There’s too much uncertainty in the world these days, too many things we can’t count on anymore. That’s why I think you’ll be happy to hear there’s a 100% chance that I’ll be taking my clothes off tonight.

We’re in the midst of a classic tale, you and I. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl go to Applebee’s. Boy exposes himself to girl. Sorry if that’s not how dates end in your prudish ivory tower, but this isn’t about you, it’s about trying to get this night back on track and make things right.

You want to see what thirty-five minutes of elliptical machine a month can do to a man’s body? You’re about to. You want to cradle me in your capable arms and tell me everything’s going to be okay? That can also be arranged.

It’s called spontaneity if you’re not familiar with the term. Another term you should familiarize yourself with is psoriasis. My inner thighs look like relief maps of South America. Sorry if that makes you uneasy, but life isn’t always neatly wrapped up in a little box with a pretty bow. Sometimes that little box has a patchy skin disease that flares up without any goddamned warning.

Fact: you are throwing me more signals than a third base coach who’s trying to have sex with me. Fact: I am reading you loud and clear and I’m heading straight for home, unencumbered by garments. Don’t let playful euphemisms like that lull you into thinking I’m keeping my clothes on, because that’s not an option at this point. Mentally, I’m already very naked. It’s just a baby step from here.

Look, no one said dating was going to be easy. The sooner you come to grips with that, the sooner you can let your guard down and start exploring my body like a budding archeologist who just unearthed a terra cotta warrior. A warrior whose armor and undergarments appear to have eroded over time. Whoopsy-daisy.

Enough talk. It’s time to check your inbox because there’s an invitation to an epidermis party. It’s from me. No need to RSVP, you’re already here. And so’s my body. If you need to brush up on some old biology curriculum, now’s your chance because it’s about to get anatomical up in here, and I don’t have time to explain to you how my body works.

We’re moments away from doing the kinds of things we couldn’t have done if I kept my clothes on. It’s like those final seconds of anticipation before a thunderstorm. But no slicker’s going to protect you from this nasty forecast. It’s about to rain three to four inches of me. Possibly five, but I can’t promise anything.