"Pink Bullets" The Shins

Two important conversations this past weekend have exposed the lopsidedness of my confidence. Tie my hands behind my back, hide my passport and stick me in a third world country and I'll be fine. Leave me in an interview wearing only tube socks and a wife-beater and I'll manage. It's putting my hand gently behind a girl's back, a subtle gesture of guidance and protection--I'm told; it's the awkward negotiation of personal space; it's the offering and the subsequent rubbing of cold hands; it's the steady pressure of my chest against her shoulder, as I hold the umbrella; it's saying, "No, you don't have to drive me home, my company will pay for a taxi." These are the things that make me sweat and stutter.