Dear Powerful Network Executive:

Bored with all of those reality TV shows you produce? Well, you need me! You need a reality show with me as your star!

I'm the perfect balance to all those weirdos pretending their lives are somehow more real than the lives that the rest of us men lead.

Real men are thirsting for empathy. They want to know that other guys struggle with life too.

Your humdrum is my humdrum. My dead-end job is your dead-end job. My whine is your whine.

Real men don't live in brightly colored party houses where everyone runs around half-naked.

They're not competing to be an ESPN sports anchor, riding along with cops or swapping families.

And they sure as heck do not drive around town chasing crooks while dressed up like one of the Village People.

They don't have time for fantasy. (Well, OK, maybe they have a little time for fantasy.)

Here's my solution: Celebrate the average guy.

Think about it. Anyone can run into a burning building and emerge a hero; the risks involved are clear.

But trust me, it takes real guts to be average.

And that's where I come in.

In me, you get a humble middle-aged man.

A slightly befuddled father.

A husband struggling to stay in synch with his wife.

You get angst across the board, arguments with my daughters about skirt length and home-repair issues, too.

Think James Thurber meets Grumpy.

Mrs. G. calls this "Yawn TV," but she doesn't know mid-life crisis from cauliflower.

Besides, if you act now, I'll include all the fights she and I had this summer when we remodeled our kitchen.

Yeah, who's yawning now?

I can see it in my mind, your cameras catching my morning commute on H-1 as I deftly change lanes to deliver Firstborn child to school on time.

Your viewers, accustomed to seeing sleek convertibles and Hummers, will marvel that anyone would drive a car as old and boring as mine.

Those viewers will no doubt revel when I escape to the neighborhood hardware store on weekends. All real men love hardware stores.

They'll howl with laughter when they eavesdrop on my cell-phone conversation with Mrs. G.: "Honey, remind me again why I am at the supermarket. ..."

Yep, the reality of real life is that it's pretty boring.

I'm sure we can work out a nice juicy contract. My boredom can be your boredom.

So go ahead and take a chance on average. Real men everywhere will thank you.

Reach Mike Gordon at mgordon@honoluluadvertiser.com.