Usually, I live my life only thinking I’m good when someone tells me so, but when someone thinks I’m attractive it’s a whole different can of worms. My brain goes into a whole different mode, a healthy mix of panic, skepticism and bewilderment.

This whole situation only gets worse once they make a move. My mind goes into overdrive when I meet someone who connects with me. I turn into the world’s greatest psychologist while I’m talking with them.

“The slight twitch of the eyebrow, she obviously must be thinking about someone else,” I think to myself. “Ah, the purse of the lips and looking away. Bad news for me, buddy.”

I often find myself locked in my own head, still having a conversation but more just talking to myself. But as soon as something starts to go right, the stakes immediately change. My brain enters a pretty bizarre place, a mixture of self-consciousness and egotistical pep talks. I go into the bathroom, shut the door and give myself a hard look in the mirror.

“You’re ready for this,” I say with the air of Rocky Balboa.

At this point, I’m in the “don’t mess this up” mindset.  My track record looks more like a contorted amusement park ride than a goofy sitcom — I try not to think about that right now. Rather than having a recap of the highlights of my adventures like a montage in “F.R.I.E.N.D.S.,” my history looks like that scene from IT (2017) when the children are flipping through the slideshow and the clown jumps out at them. I shudder just thinking about it.

I’ve been in the bathroom for way too long. Maybe I should stay in here, and just jump out with an element of surprise.  I like to surprise people and I don’t think they want to be surprised. When the conversation takes a turn into Tensionville, my weirdness comes to hang out. Some may say this is quirky or unique, but I’m not good enough to call myself either.

I start to look through the medicine cabinet as a distraction — do these whitening strips even work?

Oh, God, they probably think I passed out or something. I can’t bring myself to leave. I think of whether I should “talk dirty.” The go-to is generally one-liners to get in at odd times, but they come in all shapes and sizes. The issue is if I put them into words they lose their meaning because they I’m not a goofy madman spewing them in the middle of sexy time.

My tone might stay the same and I say things with the same conviction as anyone else, but some of it can come from weird places. I know how to say things the right way and everyone has their desired tone they want to be talked to in, but I just enjoy genuine reactions too much.

That conversation phase, the “will-they-won’t-they” phase is a tough place to be in for everyone and I’m most certainly not great at moving things along. There usually comes a point where I imagine we are both waiting for the other.

OK. It’s almost time. I try to come back to reality for this part, because this is the main part. It’s a waiting game, but sometimes we can tell that the other one is just waiting to make a move. If I’m making the move, however, there’s going to be some element that’s out of place. Does my breath smell? No, you look great, you smell great. I’m starting to get into a goofy state of mind now; this will be easy, smooth sailing. There’s just something about them only caring about me that makes me feel like the center of attention.

It depends, of course. Some people want none of it, and I’ll get the annoyed glares or brushes aside for them. Most of the time though the other person either doesn’t care or enjoys it, which just makes me do more goofy stuff.

I take a deep breath and open the door of the bathroom.