Queen of Awkward Moments

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Like the popular section in magazines, who wore awkward best?  This is a really hard call since there are so many similarities: similar hideous floral dresses, equally horrible haircuts, and the failed attempt to smile/look happy.  They both perfectly capture the look of discomfort that let everyone know how awkward you felt at that age.  It’s safe to say that this contest has no winner but I definitely lose since one of these pictures is me.

The upside to being awkward at a young age is that it prepares you for the plethora of awkward moments that are bound to come through out life.  Go West might be the “King of Wishful Thinking” but I’m the Queen of Awkward Moments.

Last Saturday was a perfect example.  I woke up at 5:00 AM to the sound of pounding on my wall.  I got up to see what the hell was going on and was displeased to discover my roommate having hardcore sex in the living room, whipped cream and all.  As I turned on the lights we both screamed and I ran back to my room disgusted and weirdly kind of hungry.

I laid there for the rest of the morning pissed off and trying to figure out what I could say.  Plenty of aggressive and angry digs came to mind but as time went on I realized that I had to be assertive and just make the best of the situation. I finally decided to come out from hiding and my roommate was cooking in the kitchen.  I was mustering up the courage to give the speech I had been working on for the past 5 hours when my roommate asked if we could pretend like nothing happened and assured me it wouldn’t happen again.  That seemed a lot easier than going into my courtesy manifesto, so I let it go.

I decided exercising would be a great way to start fresh so I got dressed and went to the gym.  I was running on the treadmill listening to my exercise mix filled with rap, hip hop, and mash ups that make you move.  I don’t dance on the treadmill but when a song I really like comes on I sometimes run to the beat.  Unfortunately as I got really into “Blurred Lines” I lost my footing and went down on the treadmill like a sack of potatoes on a conveyer belt. I slammed into the machine behind me at full force and the entire gym got silent and three employees darted towards me.  Everyone wanted to make sure I was ok but the attention was like adding insult to injury at that point.  I didn’t need a spotlight on my moment of embarrassment but there was no one working the lights.  I assured them that I was fine, gathered my things, and went home.  I had no broken bones, my ipod was working so there was nothing really damaged besides my ego.  I was used to that by now.

The day dragged on and I had a busy night in the city.  I had been MIA for some time and decided to jump back into my social life head first.  I had been sick for a while and hadn’t gone out but then I got used to staying in, which was a cycle I was about to break.  I got a reminder about a few events people posted on Facebook and realized that a friend, maybe acquaintance would be a better word, I hadn’t seen in years was having a birthday party in the city.  I was mapping out my whole night and was feeling good about the social progress I was making. The gym and roommate sex incidents from earlier were fading away and I had hopes that the day would end a lot better than it had started.

I arrived at the bar of the estranged friend and could not find anyone I knew.  As I headed towards that back I realized there was another back room where the party was probably taking place.  As I entered, I saw my friend along with his immediate and extended family having dinner.  When I made eye contact with him he had a look of shock on his face and his family just looked confused.  It was too late to pretend I didn’t see him and walk out, so I had to make a grand entrance.  I put a smile on my face and went and gave him a big hug.  He actually said, “Wow Bev, haven’t seen you in years.  Wasn’t expecting you.  Good to see you.” It was like I had run into him at a random bar.  Thanks for the comforting words and letting me know I was accidentally invited!  I had to sit there for an hour while his family interviewed me.  I was mortified.  It was like being on a bad first date.  Unwelcoming questions, checking your watch to see if you stayed an acceptable amount of time, and just a feeling of discomfort that spreads through out your body.  Finally after an hour I said I had to go to another birthday party and hugged him goodbye.  His mother was so sweet and gave me a hug and went to give me a kiss on the cheek but got me smack on the lips instead.  As if the situation wasn’t embarrassing enough.  Red faced and in a hurry, I left the bar.

I grabbed a cab to go to the next event on my list and the driver actually looked into the rearview mirror and asked with concern, “Are you ok”?  I was still trying to process what had just happened but mumbled, “Yeah.  East Village please.”  Onto the next circus.

I arrived at my destination and found myself surrounded by nameless bars in the hipster abyss of Alphabet City.  Why was it so cool to have a bar that doesn’t put the name anywhere in sight?  I walked back and forth down the block several times.  I gave up and decided that the bar on the corner seemed the most likely to hold a party, so I walked in and everyone looked at me like I had 7 heads.  When I stopped and took a look around I realized that I was crashing not only an engagement party but a toast the parents were giving to the happy couple.  I apologized profusely, probably making it worse, and then ran out of the bar.  I tried the tiny bar next door and of course that was where my friend’s party was.  I saw someone I knew as I walked in and they said, “There you are!  I saw you outside passing the bar like 10 times but then you disappeared.”  Thanks for the heads up! It was really good to see her and my friend, the birthday girl, but she was bouncing around the bar making the rounds.  I went to go to the bathroom and as I was crossing the bar, a group of girls entered and I was trapped.  It turns out it was all the girls I went to camp with when I was younger.  No one was rude but there also wasn’t a steady flow of conversation.  After the “Hi! How are you’s” I had nothing to say. It was a lot of standing there saying “Yeah…so” and then dead silence until the other person would make up an excuse to get out of the situation.  Why am I so terrible at small talk?  I could have just said,”I have to go to the bathroom.  It was good seeing you”, but no.  I had to be the awkward person that just stands there.  I finally got a hold of the birthday girl and got a chance to talk to her.  Her new work friend cornered me and asked if I would go have a cigarette with her.  I took this as my chance to bounce so I said yes.  I said my goodbyes to the birthday girl and headed out with her coworker.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

It was freezing outside.  She was blowing smoke in my face as she began the story of her new found love affair with an orthodox Jewish colleague from Miami.  I didn’t know this girl’s name but I did know that she was horny, scared of a commitment, and wanted advice on how to proceed.  Before I could come up with some sort of answer she hugged me and asked if we could be best friends.  I didn’t answer.  As I stood there while this girl was hugging me to the point of suffocation, a drunk girl and her friends walk by and she says, “OMG!  You guys are the cutest couple ever!”.  And on that note I broke up the pow wow, got a cab, and headed home.

I was happy to be in the social scene again, but when I was MIA I didn’t have to deal with these weird people or awkward moments. No wonder I didn’t go out for so long.  I wasn’t expecting to have the best night of my life but I also wasn’t expecting the most awkward one either.  I guess when I come back, I really come back. I was a bit tipsy and decided to get Burger King as a consolation prize.  I was scarfing down BK in the elevator when the door opened. I went to step out and slammed into my roommate and partner in sex who were trying to get in. There was just staring and a look of disgust on their faces.  With a full mouth I said, “Excuse me”, pushed through them, and proudly walked towards my apartment.  When I reached my door I couldn’t find my keys.  Fuck! Obviously I locked them in the apartment.  I attempted to break in using a credit card when my neighbor, with a disapproving look, found me drunk and struggling.  My credit card broke in half and I wound up sleeping on my strange neighbor’s couch instead of swallowing my pride and calling my roommate.  I had to listen to Enya the whole night and woke up to him and his boyfriend staring at me on the couch.

After the creepy wake up call I decided to try my luck at my apartment.  I pounded on the door and a grumpy roommate opened the door and had the balls to tell me I was being rude!  I was so tired and embarrassed from the past 24 hours that I just walked straight into my room, fell face first into bed, and slept for 8 hours.

I felt revived after my nap. But then the events from the day before began to replay in my head.  I had a feeling of embarrassment in my gut that wouldn’t go away.  I opened a drawer and found my fifth grade picture and it weirdly made me feel better.  It was reassuring in the sense that if I could make it through that bout of awkwardness then I can recover from anything.  It is surprising how time can heal all wounds and by the next morning I felt so much better.

But as sure as the sun rises, more awkward moments will come my way and I will think, “Holy shit.  What is wrong with me?”  But I will look back at that picture and reflect on my past embarrassing moments and realize it’s not that bad and I will come out even stronger.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my resilience and ability to make the best of awkward situations.  And hey, they do make great stories.  Until the next post!

Happy Holidays!

-Bev

how i met my first date

Now I can't forget my first date!

Now I can’t forget my first date!

With wedding season in full swing and being the token single girl at every event, it’s hard not to think about dating.  Hearing all the stories about how each couple met, I started thinking about the story of how I will meet my future husband.  Nothing came to mind except the insane story of how I met my first date.

This story is legen-wait for it-dary! And it’s a good representation of my dating experiences thus far.  I may have a cute story when I get married of how I met my husband but my kids will probably know this story just as well.

I started dating on the older side having been too shy and awkward in high school to flirt with a guy let alone go on a date.  Being the “cool girl friend” was more my thing.  “She’s like a dude” was something I actually took as a compliment and was the only straw I could grab at.  So when I finally had my first date I was really nervous.

First, let’s start with how I came to meet this Prince Charming.  I was at dinner with a friend when I started to feel a little under the weather.  We were finishing up when she got a call from her cousin who was at a bar right near her apartment. So we finished dinner and headed to the bar.  I started to sweat and heard my stomach making weird noises as we got out of the cab.  I decided to go up to her apartment while she met up with her cousin, Joe, and I’d catch up with them when I felt a little better.  

I was so sick in the bathroom when I heard the door open.  My friend had come back with Joe and a friend. Perfect.  Her bathroom was directly next to her living room and you could hear everything.  I was trying to get myself together but was still feeling horrible.  Fifteen minutes passed then 25 minutes.  I felt like I had to wait it out until they left.  It was embarrassing at that point to just walk out of the bathroom after a half hour and be like, “Oh, there you guys are. I’ve been looking everywhere!”.  It’s not like it was my apartment either where I could pretend I was in my room. All of a sudden my friend tried to open the bathroom door and I slammed it shut.  She said, “Sorry Bev, I forgot you were here”.  Then you hear men’s voices saying, “Who’s Bev?” Those bastards blew up my spot.  I washed up, threw some water on my face, put the fan on.  Nothing helped.  I walked out so awkwardly trying my best to ignore how terrible I felt and forced a smile. Thankfully the guys were drunk and didn’t notice or care at the moment.    

I was cornered on the small couch by her cousin’s friend who was talking to me an inch from my face.  As he rambled on about something (I could not follow his story), I kept imagining how I must have looked- sweaty with a really uncomfortable look on my face.  The guy was decent looking and nice enough but seemed like he had a screw or two loose.  He reminded me of Cliff O’Malley (Lochlyn Munro) from “Dead Man On Campus”.  I thought he was going to chant, “My name is Cliff.  Brother of Joe.  Got me some crack.  Want me some hoes”.  He didn’t but he did open a beer and then flick the cap directly into my friend’s eye.  She was bleeding from it and he just laughed at first.  Then he felt really bad and tried to help by getting her a cold compress for her eye. Instead he slammed the tray of ice cubes into her face and got ice all over the floor.  On top of that my situation was not improving so I figured this was a good time to sneak out.  I was trying to make my way out as discretely as possible but he popped out of nowhere as I got toward the door.  He would not let me say goodbye and despite my pleading, insisted on escorting me to a cab.

Next thing I knew he was standing next to me in the elevator. I was desperately trying to act casual but I was so scared I was going to fart or vomit on him.  The intense awkward silence didn’t help. As we approached the lobby he asked for my number. I felt put on the spot so I gave it to him. It was raining out so he decided to back out of the grand gesture and headed back upstairs. He opted for the “shout down the hall” goodbye because he couldn’t wait the extra minute for the elevator to come back down. I was too sick and delirious to care about how weird the past two hours had been and found myself a cab. I did not think in a million years he would contact me after that.

I was half right.  He didn’t contact me afterwards until about 3 weeks later.  He texted me to see if I wanted to get dinner that weekend.  I was really weary about going on a date with this guy.  I wasn’t sure if my instincts were right in that he was a chromosome short or I was just nervous to go on a date.  His behavior was so inconsistent and I was so out of it the night I had met him that I wasn’t sure if my perception of him had been off.  So I agreed to meet him for coffee and felt that was a safe first date.

The date.  I arrived a few minutes late and when I finally got to the correct Starbucks, after multiple attempts, I found out that I was a third wheel on my own date.  At the table was my date and a familiar face, my friend’s cousin, Joe.  My date smiled and waved but didn’t get up to say hi.  Joe and I had the most awkward hello. We both went to give a kiss on the cheek and had the embarrassing back and forth before almost kissing on the lips. I sat down and there was silence.  I was blushing from embarrassment and couldn’t really pay attention to the conversation or lack thereof. I can talk to a wall but this was painful.  Joe was trying his best to get my date involved in the conversation but you could see how uncomfortable he was being there.  Who takes a friend on a date? I decided to go get coffee.  All my date said was, “Cool.” He didn’t want anything and didn’t offer to get me something, go with me, or God forbid pay.  So I got up and paid for my coffee.  I got back to the table and sat down. The guys were talking but that faded quickly into another batch of silence.  My date grumbled something about a bar.  I had just gotten my coffee and wanted to finish it. Joe tried to escape but my date protested and screamed, “No!” and grabbed at his jacket. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. So Joe sat back down and we started talking again. About three seconds later my date interrupts us by pounding on the table and says, “We need to get to a bar now.”  He said it around 10 times in a row until we agreed to find one.  

We get to the bar and he immediately got himself a drink.  Again, he didn’t offer to get me anything.  I ordered a soda and he got annoyed that I wasn’t drinking.  I didn’t want to pay or commit to the time it would take to have a drink so I opted for something quick and easy.  It was a different location but same situation.  Joe and I were attempting small talk again while my date downed drinks.  He slammed the glass on the bar and goes, “What is the best thing about twenty eight year old girls?” I said, “What?”  He said, “There are twenty of them.”  The music had faded out towards the end of the joke so it was really quiet in the bar.  People were staring and giving us dirty looks.  He didn’t laugh or make eye contact, he just went back to being silent.  Joe looked so embarrassed and was awkwardly laughing.  I took the pedophile joke as my cue to leave. I said, “It was really nice to meet you but I have to get going.”  He just replied with bye.  Joe had to be like, “You’re not going to walk her to the door?”  He said, “No I’m good”.  Then he begrudgingly got up and walked towards the door.  I turned to say bye and he was in my face trying to kiss me.  Seriously??  My fight or flight reaction kicked in and I tried to flee but tripped over the rug by the door, fell and cut myself.  He headed straight back to the bar and left me annoyed, injured, and with a deep skepticism of dating.  I may have bled out of my knee, but I popped my dating cherry and finally was no longer a virgin to the dating scene.

My first date seems pretty on par with how my dating life panned out.  My story certainly set the bar for horrible dates.  Hopefully that was the worst, although I have had some pretty close seconds.  Who knows, maybe at one of these weddings I’ll meet the man of dreams and have a cute story to tell my children.  But for now I’ll just stick with how I met my first/worst date.

Like sex, dating gets better with time even though there are some bad experiences along the way. It’s what you make of the bad dates that determines how well the next one will go. That’s why I choose to find the humor in the situation rather than focus on how traumatic it was or could have been.

Continuing to make lemons into limoncello.

-Bev

Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover…Unless It’s “Mein Kampf”

Mein Kampf

We’re always told, “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” and I’m here to tell you to judge it.  Yes, when you are literally talking about a book maybe that advice applies but when referring to people the proverb doesn’t quite hold water.  The famous phrase isn’t “Love at first good conversation” for a reason.  As shallow as it sounds, attraction is the initial driving force in a relationship.  I’m not saying someone’s personality can’t help or be a deal breaker, but looks are definitely important, especially in the beginning.

A picture says a thousand words and they’re not all necessarily benevolent.  There is a creep factor that seems to seep through pictures if you are in fact a creep.  It’s this little thing we like to call intuition.  If someone looks off, they most likely are off.  However, I grew up being told to give people chances regardless of looks because attraction is something that can develop.  Yes, maybe if you were friends first or met in person, but online it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I have already given a few examples of my tumultuous relationship with dating, but here’s another one that supports my argument:

For this round of online dating I have really been trying to find someone with similar interests and what can be perceived as a good personality (from the little information you have on a website) and a good match for me.  This guy contacted me and my first reaction to his pictures was a weird feeling in my gut.  I decided that I needed to be open minded and look at the whole profile and to my surprise I was actually laughing out loud.  *Side note: If you can make me laugh, it’s pretty much a guarantee I’ll give you a shot.*  I replied and we had some good banter back and forth.  Some questionable areas of conversation arose about family and upbringing.  The only person he has a relationship with is his Dad and he moved around his whole life (a ton in recent years) so he did not have a huge family or social circle.  That should have been my second red flag after my gut reaction.

Despite the fact that my creep alarm was on high alert, I agreed to meet him.  My rationalization was that I am looking for a relationship so being open to different people and situations is part of the deal.  Much to my dismay, the date didn’t go well from the very beginning.

I was pulling up to the restaurant in my car trying to find parking when I saw this really short guy flipping his hair, like Justin Beiber, in a full Adidas sweatsuit and what looked like K Swiss sneakers.  I, of course, knew this was my date and again my stomach sank a little.  I found parking and walked up to him as he kept doing the hair flip.  As he turned toward me, it was like I was staring at the poster child for the Aryan race with what appeared to be a boil on his face the size of a walnut.  Awesome.  Off to another great start!

So we sit down to dinner in an overly crowded but, thankfully, dimly lit area of the restaurant.  For a few minutes we did have a good conversation and some laughs (if a third party came along they would think we were having a great date).  We started talking about holidays with the family and how he had missed that growing up.  I actually felt bad and thought maybe he was a good person with a bad sense of style and skin problems.  Wrong, I began to talk about one of my family’s Passover seders when he asked what a seder was.  I explained that I’m Jewish and on Passover we have a seder and gave him a quick history behind it.  He then replied, “Oh you’re Jewish?”.  After that things went downhill.  I kept staring at the boil as he spoke of his family roots.  Immediately after I declared my Jew status, he informed me that his grandparents were most likely Nazis in Germany, and said this while smiling.  The creep vibe started to spread through out my body as the conversation spiraled to a crashing stop.  I thought, am I really desperate enough to be taking dates with Hitler Youth?

Love may be blind but unfortunately so is desperation. All the signs were there to begin with.  Had I just trusted my intuition, I could have avoided this confusing/alarming date with the boiled faced anti-semite.  He had the appearance of a German Men’s Junior soccer player and the essence of a rapist.  Combine that with the Nazi ancestry and I was pretty much in hell.  I now have a rule that if I have a gag reflex to your picture, for any reason, I’m moving onto the next contestant.

Dating should be mostly fun and giving everyone under the sun a chance does not do you any good.  It’s admirable to not be shallow or materialistic but I rather not have to deal with a neo Nazi with a penchant for nomadic living.  I’m starting to theorize that his moving around was not a coincidence!  Let’s just say the FBI’s most wanted list now has more meaning in my life.

Basically, if the picture is not up to par then the person probably isn’t either.  It’s good to take pride in how you look and present yourself, even in a profile.  It says a lot about you and is a good way to separate the possible mates from the improbable.  Plus if you’re attracted from just a picture and profile…that’s not a bad sign.  Use caution when: A person has only one picture that is a self pic, far away shots, mug shots (or anything resembling), or has a picture that causes a physical reaction.  Those are warning signs to stay away.  Ignoring them does not make you a better person and will most likely involve an awkward or uncomfortable situation that leaves you right where you started.  Maybe a little bit more disturbed but still single and looking.

So the decision is up to you.  Judge a book by it’s cover or don’t.  But ask yourself this, do you really want to be the face on the milk carton?

Until the next charmer,

Bev

He’s Just Not That Into Himself…A Guide to Men’s Overcompensation

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There is a misconception that women are the insecure gender. Yes, girls criticize themselves and are socialized to believe if we’re not supermodels then we’re not attractive or perfect just the way we are. But what about men? No one ever discusses the insecurities that plague men because if a guy shows weakness he’s looked down upon or called a pussy. By no means do I want a guy who is crying all the time but being in touch with your feelings is not a bad thing! How can you be secure if you are not honest with how you feel about yourself?  The answer is NOT all men are secure.

I didn’t conduct an experiment with a control group but my exposure to men has lead me to this conclusion.  Since I began online dating again, I’ve noticed that most of the guys I am talking to have something in common, low self esteem.  However, it would not appear that way to the naked eye.  Many come off as cocky and overcompensate whether it’s how much money they have or how far along in their career they believe they are.  But it’s those little comments and gestures that blow their poker face.

Let me give you a clear example:

I was talking to this guy, we’ll call him Peter Griffin (explanation to follow), and he immediately asked me if I liked his pictures.  Peter had actually contacted me on another site a few years back and used the same pictures so I knew these were not recent.  There was the first hint of deception.  The old picture.  This will probably come up in every post but, come on, if you don’t look like your picture then don’t post it!  Then he asked me if I look like my pictures.  He pressed this topic for a while as I reassured him I wasn’t a 56 year old man pleasuring himself at the public library computer.  He kept talking about how we were both really good looking people (and pointed out how people tell him he’s handsome all the time).  He then pat himself on the back for his sexual prowess.  Peter noted quite a few times how long he could go for yet he hadn’t asked for my name yet.  I agreed to go out with him because he lives close and has a Labradoodle (as do I).  I thought, if nothing else, I would have another friend at the dog park.

The date.  Peter Griffin took me to a cafe that was cute but more so for meeting an old friend for coffee.  This was Saturday night and the nicest meal they had on the menu was a burger and fries.  But he was classy, he brought champagne, Korbel, and had it chilling for my arrival.  As I expected, he did not look like his pictures.  Coincidently his first question was, “So, do I look like my pics?”.  What am I supposed to say?  No, you have less hair, are 50 pounds heavier, and might be batting for the other team.  Then he went on to tell me about his new exercise regimen and low carb diet (he offered me some dieting tips…yup), what he had for lunch, what he has for lunch on a regular work day, and how he already feels lighter and more energetic.  Peter didn’t forget to mention the amazing apartment he has and how much money it costs, the new cars he gets every year (from a Hassidic family in Brooklyn?), and how he’s a “musician”.  FYI, owning a guitar and singing along with the radio does not make you a musician.

I hate goodbyes but this one I was looking forward to.  As we’re walking out he offers to drive me to my apartment since he thoughtfully picked a place that was closer to his apartment.  Unfortunately I don’t live in a city that you can just hail a cab so I decided to take him up on his offer…among other things.  He said he had to go into his apartment to get his keys.  He showed off his mediocre apartment, okay the view was amazing but this was nothing compared to what he made it seem.  He kept trying to show me his room and his king sized bed.  As deeply impressed as I was by his ability to furnish an apartment, I wasn’t that interested and wanted to get home.  I asked to use the bathroom and when I came out he called to me from his bedroom.  I walked in to find him laying on his bed naked (Castanza portrait-esq).  I was speechless, not because of his ballsy assumption that I’d want to have sex with him but that he looked so much like Peter Griffin from that episode of Family Guy where Peter’s bones disintegrate and he’s just a huge blob of fat.  I swear, the resemblance was uncanny!  He started to stretch and flex his leg to show off his assets.  He actually said, “Come feel.  I’m all muscle” and I couldn’t help but think “Under which layer of skin and fat?”.  I have nothing against overweight people but the way this guy spoke of himself you would think you were on a date with David Beckham, not the complete opposite.  As much as I enjoy awkward moments, this one needed to end.

But the journey continued.  I asked if he minded taking me home because I wasn’t feeling well, AKA was nauseous from the mental image of his naked body ingrained in my memory.  So he gets his clothes and brings them to the bathroom to dress (because being naked was ok but seeing him dress was off limits).  Then he was telling me how handy he is around the apartment and how he installed everything himself.  I inquired about the ceiling fan that was hanging from a wire and was one door slam away from crashing to the ground.  He conveniently didn’t work on that one. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, we get to the car and he puts on Nickelback and starts belting out “Never made it as a wise man, couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealing”.  I was embarrassed for him.  It was mostly his pride in liking bands like Nickelback and knowing every lyric to the songs as well as the key changes.  It didn’t stop there- he informed me that he just learned how to play this gem on the guitar!  Because hearing you play it will make it sound better, right?

Peter Griffin was just a walking contradiction. This guy had cajones!  Not only did he strip naked and try to seduce me but I was able to call him out on every lie and exaggeration that came out of his mouth.  To me he screamed insecure!  In an attempt to overcompensate for his shortcomings he came off as self conscious of his appearance, his finances, his masculinity, sexual capacity, and his musical ability (or lack there of).  Note that this behavior is typical for people with low self esteem.  Masking it with a facade only goes so far.  Your true nature will always show as it did in the Family Guy episode with the real Peter Griffin and now with the fake Peter Griffin, case in point.

To the nervous daters out there, you are not alone.  No one is completely secure but the more you confront these insecurities the better chance you have of overcoming them.  Don’t let these over confident personalities fool you.  Just because issues may not be visible right away doesn’t mean they don’t exist.  Like a braless girl in a see through shirt, you might be covered in fabric but we can still see your nipples.

Do: Live a naked life.  Be honest with yourself and your feelings.

Don’t: Actually get naked…especially as a surprise after the first date.  That’s one jack we don’t need popping out of the box.

A toast to living naked because eventually you will have to strip and bare all.

Stay Tuned!

-Bev