Now while this sounds like  shtick  masquerading  as filler since I don’t have any ideas of what to write tonight, I will tell you that is correct. Plus, I just got out of the bath and was nude already. The only thing I’m wearing is the laptop on my thighs and a wet dog around my shins. She had her bath at the same time. With me. Totally sexed out, ladies?

Okay – this just hit me. Where do I feel the most insecure and naked? I don’t mean emotionally or figuratively. I mean, where do I actually feel naked physically?

It’s not when I’m actually naked. I don’t shut my blinds and I live alone so walking around from the shower to the kitchen is no big deal. I’m not an animal – I make sure my neighbors aren’t hanging out on the porch first.

I’m pretty comfortable with my body. Except when I dance.

Not kidding at all when I say I feel the most naked dancing at weddings. It’s terrifying for me. And it makes no sense since I have fantastic rhythm, I play in a band, and I understand how to count to four. When I took a dance class in college (with my sister), she said I was one of the best dancers there.

And, oh yeah, ten years ago I worked for a beer company and took a truck that opened up into a fully functioning nightclub all over the country. I danced my fanny off for nine months.

Thinking about it, why am I worried now about dancing? Well, first, I have no moves. So, it’s a loss of control thing. I don’t know what to do. I’m not joking when I say I have no moves. I literally don’t know what to do with my feet.

Before I got married, my now ex-wife and I did eight lessons at Evelyn Wood and perfected a several minute routine for our wedding. Not to be one of those douchey couples trying to impress everyone – we just needed to know what to do with our feet.

I see my friends at weddings jumping all around the dance floor having fun and they don’t know fat dick about dancing. But they haven’t a care so it works. I have absolutely no fun dancing. It’s scary and I can’t wait for it to stop. Even the slow dances with my girlfriend are uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t even do that right.

I’m aware that nobody at a wedding is watching me. I also know I have rhythm and can at least fake it. I just want to be able to let go and have a good time like everyone else. But I’m not sure how.

This is about me needing to control how I’m perceived. I place myself in situations where I can manipulate the variables to the outcomes I desire. Since I have no dance moves, I have no control and I don’t think I’m “looking good.” Therefore, I’m exposed and vulnerable. And that is scary, and scary is bad.

I honestly believe that my well-being can be measured in my ability to dance at weddings in front of my friends. My goal in life is to learn to let go of that control and trust in my vulnerability. While I can’t do it on the dance floor, I often do it here.

Every time I’ve shared a hard truth on the blog, I’ve been rewarded with kindness. I’m glad that you are here to soothe me when I reveal something difficult.

Bottom line – I need to get out to more weddings. Here’s what I want from you:

Invite me to a shitload of weddings. I don’t care if it’s a second cousin or that creepy chick with the adult braces from accounting. Hook me up with a date and time. I own a  cumber bun so I’m all set.

I’ll probably start out with that electric slide garbage, since it’s easy, move up to a  Viennese  waltz, and then, over time showcase some serious popping and locking.

Note to self – buy book on popping and locking.

“Can you send a photo over to me beforehand?”

Instead, I made some comment about how I’m sure she’s pretty, and she said, “Yes, she’s very beautiful. Don’t worry.”

We spoke a few times on the phone, and then decided it would be more fun to make dinner together at my apartment for the first date.   She agreed to bring the salad and dessert, and I would make the appetizer and main course.

By the way, I’ve told this story a number of times over the years, and for women, they almost always say…

“I would never go to a guy’s house on a first date!”

I disagree. I’ve done this over a dozen times. I found that making dinner together engages a woman more into the date, and also relieves some of the pressure and awkwardness. You’re just two people having fun making dinner.

Plus, the bedroom is only twenty feet away, should the date take an amorous turn.

I know it seems like it’s a crazy thing for a woman, to go to man’s house on the first date, safety and everything, but I never had any problem having women agree to it.

Probably because I’m not a creep.   If you’re a creep, then this will not work for you.

I told this recently to a co-worker who said she wouldn’t go to a guy’s place on a first date because she would think he must be cheap.   But I’m not cheap, so I don’t care about that either.

When I start dating again, I’m going back to making dinner with women.   It’s really a lot of fun.

I went to pick up my blind date and since I hadn’t ever seen her, I was just hoping she would be attractive. I know that sounds shallow, but I’m trying to be honest here.   I need to date a woman I’m attracted to.

And when she came out from her condo, I was blown away.   She was a perfect ten knockout (this meant that I didn’t peel away before she made it to the car – kidding).

And that was that. It was a perfect first date, and three years later, we married.   Two years after that, the marriage ended, but that’s another story.

Love at first sight has happened to me a number of times in my life, but more often than not, when I see someone who has just that perfect look, it’s usually in the street and they’re walking the other direction.

Also, it’s not really love, of course.   It’s just the lining up of visuals.   It’s not love when you can only see their physique and face.   But it does really feel like love to me.

Since then I’ve matured and now when I approach women, it’s actually best for me to start a friendship.   Turns out that’s probably the healthiest way, because in the end friendships are way more important.   And if love develops, great.

When I was 23, I used to take this bus every day to work.   One day, at the bus-stop, I saw a woman who took my breath away.   She was blonde with curls, and wearing a bright red pea coat.   This was one of those love at first-sight things.

The next morning she was there as well.   I told myself that if I ever saw her again, I would HAVE to ask her out.

Then, she didn’t show up for like four months.   I seriously thought about her every day as I rounded the corner to the bus-stop.   I was really devastated and thought I had missed my opportunity.

The next time I saw her, I was ready.   We got on the bus and just happened to wind up standing next to each other.   I turned around and made a stupid joke about something.   She laughed, and five minutes later gave me her number.

I can’t tell you what a big deal this was to me.   It’s not like I asked women out every day on the bus.   And this was my dream girl.   Still wearing the red pea coat, too.

Turns out she lived in a building directly facing mine, basically next door.

We chatted once or twice on the phone, and then I announced I was coming over.   I pulled a bottle of wine and headed over.   I didn’t drink wine, but I knew enough not to bring a pint of whiskey.

She wasn’t super cool with me announcing that I was coming over, but who cared – this was my dream woman!

I show up at her apartment that evening, and she gives me the tour.   Standard early twenties’ first apartment and typically feminine decor.     But what interested me most was that her window directly faced my window.   Which I didn’t know until then.

She was on the fifth floor, I was on the fourth.

Ever been in that situation?   Where you’re at a house that looks at your place?   The first thing you do is see if you can see your stuff!

And sure enough, she was directly across the way from me.   Right across.

And I’m such a romantic moron, I actually thought this was a sign that God wanted me to be in a relationship with this woman.   Like God doesn’t have anything better to do like deal with like AIDS or famine.   I’m a moron.

I pointed out to her that I lived right across the way.   Again, I thought this was a good thing.

She looked at me and in a startled voice said, “That’s YOU?”

Now, this is a obviously a bad sign, because, “YOU” meant something.   And probably something bad.

And then I realized that, even though I had both blinds and curtains, I had never once closed them, for any reason.   Ever.

She could look directly into my apartment.   And see everything.

And here’s the thing.   I didn’t think anyone would actually “watch” their neighbors, so I didn’t care.   If I was coming out of the shower, I would walk across the bedroom naked.   Didn’t close the blinds.

I panned to the left and realized she could even see directly into my shower.   Which I had never closed the blinds to either.

But then the low self-esteem part of me again thought, “But, nobody looks at you.   People don’t really DO that.”

She said, “I’ve seen you naked! Like a bunch of times!”

I’m not particularly bashful or freaked out by someone seeing me naked.   I even showed my genitals to my wife’s waxer once, and didn’t think twice about it.   No big deal.

But this party had just become tense.   It was time to loosen things up.   How should I take care of…   I know – I’m funny!   Surely, she’ll see I’m not just some loser who walks around naked.   I have charisma!

We started drinking the wine, but things didn’t improve.   She was clearly uncomfortable.   I’m sure to her that I was now etched into her mind as the weirdo that walked around naked.   Or who doesn’t shut the blinds because he wants people to see.   Or something.

I just thought the whole thing was really funny.

So, we’re on her couch, and I go to kiss her.   Which meant I was not reading the signals, because her body language was screaming, “Get out!”

But I had to go for it.   She was that important to me!   Naturally, she pulled away.   My dream red pea coat girl did not want to kiss me.   I was devastated (well, sort of).

Realizing that this was not going to improve, I decided it was time for me to leave.

Here was the weird part – I was flying to Dallas the next day for work, and she had already told me that she would come over and feed my fish.

The next day, hours before I flew out, I received an email saying she couldn’t feed my fish.   I guess she was that freaked out.

Let’s recap.

The guy across the way, who she had seen naked more than once, comes over to her apartment, tries to get her drunk and kiss her, and now needs her to come over and feed his fish.

I tried calling her a few times over the next month, but she never returned my calls.

Maybe she didn’t like what she saw?