A-dork-ableEvery New Year’s Day, I make the resolution to be less of a dork. You’d think after ten years of this, I’d have succeeded, and maybe—just maybe—some guy would look my way and see me as dating material instead of the occasional tryst. But each attempt to transform myself into some suave man-about-town just made things worse, not better.
Like the most recent office costume party on New Year’s Eve where I’d been dressed as a Wookie, gotten drunk because no one wanted to talk to the big hairy geek, and thrown up all over my boss, Mr. Watkins—I’d removed the head from my outfit as it had been stifling and keeping me from the alcohol. Bad idea, in hindsight.
My attempts to apologize to the man who signed my paychecks had been slurred, smelly, and a bit handsy. Well, Watkins was hot
