Have you ever wondered whether people who do exceptionally well on IQ tests behave in normal life like the geniuses they test as? I recall that was a frequent enough topic in college when I was a sophomore. There were, of course, various theories about it.
Some said geniuses were lost in real life. Too impractical to safely cross a street, let alone do anything remarkable outside of a laboratory. Others argued otherwise. But no one could really prove his or her side of the debate.
Yet, shortly after college, I happened to gain a small, but perhaps remarkable, insight into how the question might be answered.
When I got into business, my first secretary, Gerri, was a member of the Chicago Mensa Club. She had big boobs.
The Club allowed people to join who tested well on one or another standardized IQ test, as had my secretary (She was a bona fide genius with an IQ of about 145 on one of the Stanford-Benit tests, a degree in music theory, and she had big boobs).
The Club also allowed people to join who had a high composite ACT score, but who had never taken an IQ test. My secretary somehow came across my composite ACT score, and from then on, became a passionate advocate for my joining the Chicago chapter of Mensa. Eventually, I agreed to attend a meeting with her because she had big boobs.
It turned out that, at the time at least, very few of Chicago’s geniuses were members of Mensa in Chicago. Chicago was a city of millions, but there were only about 20 or so active members of the Club. I wondered about that until I got to the meeting with Gerri. Why were so few people in the Club?*
Although I recall noticing that most of the members at the meeting did not have big boobs, the meeting of the Chicago Chapter of Mensa was held that weekend in a plush hotel suite on Michigan Ave. It was held both in and out of the beds in the suite, and the meeting featured various enthusiastic combinations and positionings of the group members on a variety of “sexual topics”.
I didn’t stay the whole weekend. I didn’t even stay the whole evening. I made my excuses and left as soon as I could politely do so. Gerri was more disappointed than she should have been. At the time I hadn’t much sexual experience, and that was one of the reasons I left early.
Another reason, more important to me at the time, was loyalty to my first wife. That is, I had not yet accepted the fact she wasn’t coming back.
Yet, I have never since leaving that party been able to think of myself as a bona fide genius. Would a genius have left Gerri’s boobs? I cannot imagine a real genius doing so.
More seriously, I don’t have many regrets in life, but recalling all of this brings up one of the few. I wish now that I’d gotten involved with Gerri. She wanted me, but — at the time — I only wanted my wife back. I can see very clearly in hindsight, though, that Gerri was a good match for me. For one thing, she had big….
Yet, in real life, I’m not a boob man. I only play one on my blog.
What Gerri really had going for her: Among other things, she was kind, funny, honest, sensuous, well-educated, musically accomplished, self-motivated, and — of course — smart. I could have done worse than her after my wife left me. And, as it turned out, I did do worse than her.
That’s enough regret, though. Life has turned out very well for me, despite a few skipped opportunities, and me nursing regrets is about as appropriate as someone sewing rhinestones on his underwear.
Do you think the fact the Mensa members were so smart had anything to do with the way they held their meetings? Why or why not? I’m very curious how you would answer that question.
*Nowadays, the thought occurs to me there might have been more than one Mensa club in Chicago at the time, and that Gerri belonged to a smaller club.