Is That A Truck You’re Driving Or Are You Just Pleased To See Me?

(My ex-boyfriend is a truck driver. We are still in the same social circles and still see each other occasionally. I am hanging out with the gang, watching a football game. The ex is there, along with one of the guys, who’s a firefighter. It’s worth noting that I’m generally fairly quiet and reserved and not prone to outlandish comments in public. I’m chatting with the firefighter.)

Firefighter: “It’s awesome to be driving a 30,000 pound vehicle and watch traffic on [heavily congested major surface street] just part ways for you.”

Ex-boyfriend: *hearing only part of the comment* “30,000 pounds! That’s nothing. My truck is 80,000 pounds!”

Firefighter: “Yeah, well that’s just one truck! [Specialty truck] weighs 100,000 pounds!”

Ex-boyfriend: “Of course, I can get permits for oversize/overweight and go up to 120,000 pounds.”

(This continues to escalate with each man naming various specialty vehicles and special circumstances that would cause the trucks to weigh more and more. I listen, somewhat bemused for several minutes, then get a little tired of it.)

Me: “Okay, boys, just drop your pants. Let me compare.”

(Both men stare, slack jawed.)

Bartender: “D***, [My Name] I never realized you had that in you!”