I am not, you will be surprised to hear, a very macho man. I don't like cars, I don't like sport all that much, I am pretty much incapable of doing anything manual or mechanical, I prefer the company and sensibilities of women. I am, as past experience has dictated a lover, not a fighter. And as it has been said (by me) I am not much of a lover. If the conversation turns to engine specifications or quickest road routes or the Grand Prix I do not have very much to say. I am not the person to ask about which drill bit would be the most apt for a particular circumstance. I can bluff my way a little with football, but have only been to about three football matches in my life and support York City, who are not very good (even if they are magic).
But recently I have been battling against a little compulsion to try and engage in manly banter with strangers and see how far I can get and what will happen when my lack of knowledge is revealed. It's like a fun game that will probably end in me at best getting some shitty looks and at worse being beaten up.
Yesterday I was at the gym and the man at the next locker had a motorbike helmet and some part of me was wanting me to say something manly like, "Hey, so you're a biker. What do you ride?" in a slightly affected deeper, Clarksonesque voice. Not so much that he thought I was taking the piss, enough to make him think that I might actually be interested and impressed. Of course whatever he answered would mean nothing to me. Apart from knowing a few manufacturer's names and thinking Evel Kenevel is funny and having the vague memory that your bike has to be more than 50ccs to go on the motorway (but still having no idea what ccs indicate or how many you can have), I could not tell you anything about motorbikes. So whatever he said I'd just have to nod and make appreciative manly sounds and say, "Yeah, that's one nice bike you've got yourself there." The man, playing his part in this masculine show of strength would probably feel obliged to ask me if I had a bike too and I'd have to say, "Oh yeah, yeah I've got a bike. Me? Yeah, I love motorcycling around, you know, going on my motorcycle. Vroom Vroom. I'm all over that." By now he might have smelled a rat, but perhaps he'd believe he was talking to another proper bloke and carry on by asking me what bike I had. Now I'd be in trouble. I could say "A Harley. Yup King of the bikes. Harley Davidson."
But he'd probably want to know more details, like which particular Harley and then I'd really be in uncharted territory. I don't think you can say, "a big one" or "a blue one". So I'd probably have to answer by telling him that coincidentally I had exactly the same bike as him, to the exact same specifications and hope he didn't ask any difficult questions about it. I suppose there's a chance that I might get that far, but more likely a strange atmosphere would slowly descend as the man realised that I didn't know anything at all and for some reason had tried to start up a conversation, for what reason? To take the piss out of him? To try and seduce him? What was my game? I'd quite like to start something like this knowing it would only lead to embarrassment and confusion and make me look like a fool.
A worse consequence would probably be if I somehow managed to convince him that I was a biker, with the exact same bike as him and we became friends and then he said we should go for a ride some time and then came to my house to pick me up and realised I didn't even have a bike. I mean I could pretend that it had just been stolen, but he would probably wonder why I had no biking gear or helmet or any indication in my house that I had anything but a push bike. The lie, having gone on longer, would now be much more strange.
Then tonight on the tube platform there was a man dressed in football gear who'd obviously just been playing for some local team or other. He had enough correct kit to presume it was not just a kickaround with his mates. I wondered about starting up a conversation with him, along the lines of "Being playing a bit of footie have you mate? Who do you play for?" and then pretending I was a member of a team. I probably couldn't just pretend to be in the same one as him, or he would notice this time. I know a bit more about football, so might be able to bluff a bit more, but I know nothing of local leagues or how they work or what their names are, so again the conversation would soon drag to a perplexed halt, as the man realised that I had started a conversation about something I really knew nothing about. And why? Because I wanted to look as manly as him.
But then I realised that probably a better way round to do this strange and borderline mentally ill game would be to go around dressed in a football kit or carrying a motorcycle helmet and wait for some other doltish man to come up to me and try to start a blokey conversation and then see how long it would be before he realised that I did not play football and did not have a motorbike. I think the transformation between bonding banter and slight fear and bewilderment would be very enjoyable to experience. What would they make of me? A man dressed as a footballer, who is not a footballer, just trying to trap proper footballers into talking to him. Not even bothered enough to do proper research to give himself a chance of not being discovered.
Perhaps the men I saw were already playing that game. Perhaps the men who talk to them are also pretending. Perhaps all over the country there are blokes locked in conversations with each other, that actually neither party has any knowledge of at all. Maybe all men are like me. Perhaps no one likes football and motorcycles. Maybe the blokes you see playing football and riding motorcycles have just taken the pretence one stage further. Will I be the first one to admit that I can take or leave all those things? Maybe this will be the first step in the dismantlement of all laddish, macho interests. I hope so.
