One was to regret he was average. That he was not the proverbial tall, dark and handsome stud, turning female heads wherever he went. The other option...was to be thankful that he wasn't fat, short, bald and ugly.He was Jack Mumsford, a mildly attractive man of 36 with a full head of dirty blonde hair. He had calm gray eyes, a stature of almost six feet and a trim body. He kept in shape by running a lot. He also refused to eat fatty foods or drink six-packs of beer while watching TV.For a job,. I really couldn't tell if one of them was just a really effeminate man, or a really tough looking chick. I wondered what the hell the women were doing here. But it really wasn't my problem. All I had to do was talk.I stepped up onto the small stage and behind a podium. "Is this the Tuesday night meeting of the League of Losers?" I asked."No, it's a support group for divorced men," said a whiny voice from the audience."Thanks Poindexter," I snapped. "I know who you guys are. They're paying me to. More

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