As I was walking out of Wal-Mart the other day (yes, I shop at Wal-Mart, but only because I live on a completely opposite time schedule as everyone else and Wal-Mart is the only electronics/clothing/grocery store that is open at 3am…it’s a one-stop shop) …anyhow, I walked past four Toyota Priuses (is that how you make Prius plural?) in a row, all different colors (and one covered in dust with “I like it dirty” written across the back-left fender).
Normally, seeing this many of the same model car all lined up in a row would make me vomit at how ridiculous the commercialization of America has gotten (of course, I’m kidding, I voted Republican and helped invent Grandma’s Day), but on this particular occasion, I really couldn’t help but smile. You see, what the hybrid car has done is evened the playing field for those of us that don’t feel it’s necessary to blow a hundred grand on a car, so we can pick up chicks. Every personality-lacking guy out there (you know, the ones who pay for sex) is about to enter a world of hurt, because the one thing they had going for them just went out the window. Let me explain.
It used to be that a sleazeball guy could spit out a couple of choice lines at the right moment and, as long as he had pimped himself, head to toe, in flashy clothing out of the wardrobe closet from a Sopranos episode, then pulled up in a car that sported a price tag over $100K ($60K, if she lives south of Jefferson Park), he had a slight advantage in the first impressions category. This has always pissed me off, because if the girl is a nice girl and just happened to need a little attention that afternoon, he will inevitably take her heart and run it over with his designer wheels. I like to imagine that the girl who falls for this is not nice, though. And further, that this sleezeball guy had to endure a head full of nothing but dizzy air and an intimate knowledge of this month’s Roberto Cavalli catalog (actually, girls who wear Cavalli are pretty cool, so I’ll change it to something cliche like the Valentino collection), only to get back to her place and realize that she lives with her drug-dealer boyfriend. The point is, the days of these sleazebags luring nice girls into their car full of faux charm because of a good first appearance is over and the hybrid car is the reason.
Now, the sensitive, but unassuming gentleman (me) can purchase a Toyota Prius Hybrid-Electric for the nominal rate of $20,680 (base model) and actually have an advantage over the guy rolling around in his Porsche Boxter (which we all know to be the poor man’s Porsche). If one plays his cards right (and I always do), the hybrid will win out over the Porsche, Ferrari or Maserati every time (alright, maybe not the Maserati, unless you are really smooth). You see, green is in, so when a girl sees a Prius vs. a Porsche, it doesn’t mean that the Prius owner can’t provide her with financial security, etc., it means she needs to dig a little deeper and weigh a few other details before cementing her first impression. That’s good news for us eco-freaks with loads of personality, because an extra second of thought is usually all it takes to convince someone that the guy in the Boxter is a tool. Maybe I’m not rolling around in a new Quattroporte S, but I can make a girl laugh so hard that Diet Dr. Pepper sprays out of her nose (I call that foreplay).
I can hear some of you out there, “Jon, you’re an idiot if you think the type of car a guy drives makes any difference to us girls.” But, you’re wrong. Maybe you’re an exception, but on several occasions I have fallen victim to the guy drenched in Cool Water cologne. For more girls than might care to admit it, there has been a time in your life, where you fell for the bells and whistles of the guy all dressed up with the fancy car. It’s not your fault, I like shiny things too. But, what I’m saying is now the kids in the thrift store hoody and worn down chucks (me) have their own version of shiny. And that was all we needed to show you what a nice guy we really are and what a loser that other guy is. The next time you find yourself a little flustered because of the nice smelling guy, with the one-liners and the fancy car, remember that what he wants is in your pants, but the guy with the hybrid wants in your heart, or at the least, some stimulating conversation before intercourse. Don’t fall for the flash ladies, it will only leave you with a broken heart and a pillow that smells like a T-Mobile store.
