You’ve seen me naked, you can say “hi”

Originally published by, now Happy re-reading.


Some people are most vulnerable at the end of an uncomfortably sad movie – one where the dog dies or the grandfather never makes amends with his grandson and his wife sees the light before he does. Some are most vulnerable at the end of a chewed pencil, textbook open, brain switched off. Some at what should be the end of a never-ending day and some at the dining hall register, three overpriced cupcakes in tow.

Others share a special kind of vulnerability. These unfortunate souls are most vulnerable unclothed. Bare-naked. Completely exposed. I, like this kind, am most vulnerable when naked. See also: post-breakup. See especially: post-Long Island iced tea.

So here we are, twenty-something and in college, and you’ve seen me naked: a blessing by weekend and an irreversible curse come Monday morning because I know the light was on.

You’ve seen me more vulnerable than my weepy mother at the end of “My Dog Skip.” Your charming slurs pummeled through my emotionally barred walls as I followed you, like Skip, back to your place after three tequila shots too many and an uncensored scene out of Superbad.

I wave my white flag.

As an unlucky student of a campus of fewer than 5,000 undergrads, it’s almost impossible to avoid the casual (yet frequent) run-in with a one-time-late-night-drunken-decision. They’re everywhere. There they are at the gym, two treadmills down. There they are in your 8 a.m. lecture, 9 a.m. lecture and then again at lunch. There they are one more time, two people ahead of you in line at Dunkin Donuts.

As you stir your 500-calorie caramel latte, you’ll notice sugar isn’t the only thing they’re skipping today. See also: eye contact, acknowledgement and respect.

What is it about life that allows the human race to grow older in age but significantly younger in maturity? Why is it that the kid in the corner I borrowed that pencil from freshman year can look me in the eye but you, the friend of a friend who volunteered as tribute to a very gruesome, public make-out, consider me nothing more than a buffer between you and your next destination.

So this one’s for you (yeah, you).

How about you put your big-boy pants on and quit playing blind during our head-on-campus-collisions. I see you. You see me. I SEE YOU SEEING ME. YOU SEE ME SEEING YOU SEEING ME. I see you pick up pace. I see you check a convenient text. I see you fake a phone call, a fall, a death or whatever. I see you.

You’ve seen me naked, you can say hi. Spoiler alert: it meant nothing to me either.

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