DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m hurt and I’m scared and I really need help. I’m a 29-year-old man and my girlfriend of four years just broke up with me and left me with nothing. I mean that literally. No home, no friends, not even my pride or idea of who I am as a human being. 

I’ve spent most of my life without close friends or family group – I was an only child, no extended family, my parents moved frequently for work, which meant that I never stayed in one place long enough to really make friends. Almost every time I started to make friends, we moved again. By the time I got to college, I never quite got the knack of making friends, so I had classmates and people I’d see on campus, but not people I could consider myself close to. Then I lost both my parents in rapid succession – my mother to breast cancer and my father to a car crash a few years later, leaving me completely alone until I met “Andrea”.��When Andrea and I got together, she was my whole world in part because I didn’t have one. It was through her that I felt like I finally understood things like “family” and having people around me I could count on. I fit into her friend group with an ease that surprised me, her family was warm and welcoming to me and I thought I’d found paradise. Thanks to her and her friends, I actually felt like I learned how to make real friends and build a community to be part of. We even had a dog. Well, she did; she adopted it a month before we started dating, but I felt like it was ours. 

Then after four years, my luck took another disastrous turn. I had a promising job with a small press printer, but they never fully recovered from 2020 and went bankrupt. Shortly afterwards, Andrea pulled me aside and told me that she was leaving me and it was definitely me, not her. She told me that she had been struggling with her feelings before she finally accepted that she didn’t love me and hadn’t for quite some time. She gave me a laundry list of reasons why, not the least of which being that I was more of a project than a boyfriend. She said, and I quote “I thought I could help you, but the more I tried, the more I realized I couldn’t respect you and I shouldn’t be with someone like that.” 

Just as quickly as I found a new family, I’d lost it. I moved out of our (her, technically) apartment and all my “friends” slowly quit returning my phone calls or texts. I didn’t even get to see the dog again afterwards. 

I’m a mess now. I managed to find a dead end job to cover my bills and I’ve got a place to stay, so I’m not in danger of being homeless but that’s it – no friends, no family, and feeling like I’m worthless as a person. I’ve read what everyone’s said about getting over break ups, including yours, but none of it really fits with my situation. I’ve got a therapist I see infrequently (can’t afford to go more than once a month and my insurance won’t cover it), don’t have friends to turn to, the one time I’ve slept with someone since my break up made me feel awful about myself and I don’t need another girlfriend, I need to be a different person because I’m barely one now. 

I know my problem is me and I need to work on me, but I feel like I don’t even know who “me” is anymore. How do I feel like a person? I can’t even say “again”, because Andrea managed to make me feel like I wasn’t even one in the first place? 

I Was(n’t) A Man

DEAR I WAS(N’T) A MAN: F--king hell that’s rough, IWAM.  I’m sorry that happened to you. That’s not even a one-two punch of bad luck, that’s like being stuck in the ring with Roy Jones Jr. and just getting hammered like he took a level in monk and kept spamming Flurry of Blows.

I will say this up front: Andrea did you dirty in a way that is honestly hard to believe. Breaking up with you like that wasn’t kind. Leaving you in the lurch, without a place to go was possibly unavoidable but still kinda cold. But it was the combo of “I don’t love you” and “you were a project to me” that’s so cold it could only be measured on the Kelvin scale. That was the sort of thing that, even if it was true, should’ve been taken to the grave. I’m of the general belief that while honesty is important, even when breaking up, there’re some things you don’t need to share. It wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t corrective and it wasn’t even about you. There was no excuse for it, and it sure as s--t feels like cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

In fact, that’s the first thing I think you need to take away from this: what she said and what she did was cruel and it wasn’t about you, it was about her. This wasn’t her condemning you for not being a “real man”, this was her not being able to treat you as a human. She barely treated you like she was fostering a pet, never mind a person.

This is one of the reasons why I talk about the problem with White Knight Syndrome – people aren’t projects. You don’t date someone to “refurbish” them like they’re a car or a pinball table, any more than you “save” them from whatever is afflicting them – from illness to a toxic living situation. Treating you like a “project” wasn’t about your worth as a person, it was about feeding her ego. I know it’s cold comfort now but I want you to understand this: this wasn’t you, this was entirely her damage.

So, I’m not entirely surprised that you feel like you need to be a different person. And for once, I’m going to agree with that feeling: it’s time to be someone new. Please notice very carefully that I said “new”, not “different”; this is about a clean slate, not being someone else. Right now, you have had your world burned down around you; now it’s time for you to be reborn, like new growth after a forest fire.

Fortunately, you’re a little ahead of the game, which is going to help. You’ve already accomplished the first task I was going to give you: make sure that you’re secure and safe and getting your basic needs met. There’s a reason why self-actualization is at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs after all; it’s nigh-impossible to grow or thrive when you’re always on the edge of malnourishment or being tossed out on the street, starving-artist cliches be damned. So while I recommend that you stay on the lookout for a better job – yes, even in this economy – you’ve got a somewhat secure foundation to build on.

The second task I am going to give you is to discover yourself. There’s a reason why phoenixes are reborn from the ashes of their old lives; the fire has scoured away the old self and they are freed from their past. So it is with you. In your previous life, you have had little control and little agency to define and describe yourself. That’s all gone. Now is the time when you decide for yourself who you are and what that means.

Right now, you’re dealing with the remains of who you used to be – old patterns, old behaviors, old identities. These have all been built out of reactions to things that were done to you – from having to move constantly to losing your parents and so on. This is part of why you slot so easily into Andrea’s world; you molded yourself to other people simply because you had little opportunity to grow into yourself. But that’s the point of this rebirth: it’s time for you to branch out from there to discover who you are, not who other people thought you should be.

My recommendation here is to be bold and take some big swings that would be “out of character” for you. You’ve been living with definitions and limits that were foist upon you; you want to start seeing if these were actual limits or actual characteristics, or your doing your best to fit in like a chameleon. So, what are some things that you would never have dreamt of doing when you were with Andrea? What are some dreams that you’ve never had the heart to pursue or felt weren’t worth your time? What interests have you been afraid to explore?

If you’re not sure, then I would suggest starting with something basic and elemental: do you feel a desire to create and build something physical, to work with your hands? Do you have an urge to express yourself – to play music, write a story, paint a picture? Do you feel a calling to study, discern and penetrate the world around you or to get a deeper understanding of people? Do you want to explore and find adventure? Or to nest and surround yourself with community? Use that base desire as the starting point and work outward.

You might even combine desires: woodworking, blacksmithing and architecture are all as much expressions of art as they are craftsmanship. Adventure can be found in serving others in your community as it can exploring the world.

Similarly, what are things you would never have dared to allow yourself to do before now? Have you wanted to learn how to drive a motorcycle? Have you felt a calling to go back to school and get a different degree? Or maybe even starting an apprenticeship in a different field entirely. What are some things that your past self would’ve been shocked to see you pursue? This is the time to see who you would be if you gave that side of yourself a chance to finally grow. And, as a bonus, these changes will help draw a distinct line between your past and your future. 

Now, one thing I feel like I should emphasize is that, while I also think you should make a concerted effort to make new friends and find your Team You, I feel like this is one of the few times when your focus should be on discovering yourself first. Under other circumstances, I would say that you should rebuild your social circle, but right now I think you would run the risk of falling back into old patterns of trying to blend in and adapt. I think taking this time to discover yourself should be a priority instead. I think it’s more important that you establish your sense of self, so you come to these future relationships with security and confidence. It’s hard to know who’s right for you or what community is a match for you when you don’t know you.

At the same time, however, exploring these sides of you and taking these big swings will bring you into contact with others – people who share these interests and who may even be on a similar journey as you. Having these things in common will make it easier to build connections that you may choose to turn into friendships. But it will be easier to make relationships that feel secure and beneficial when you have that stronger sense of who you are and what you need, rather than relying on others to supply them.

That being said: I think some group therapy might not be a bad idea either. There are support groups out there that I think would be helpful – people who are in similar states as you, who’ve had massive losses or who have to rebuild, and knowing you’re not the only person who faces these challenges will be helpful. You might want to consider volunteering your assistance too – helping with set-up for meetings, taking on mundane organizational tasks and so on. Feeling like you’re contributing can help you feel like you’re doing more than just existing or taking up space.

The final assignment I have for you is going to be the hardest: you need to forgive yourself. I know I just said that this wasn’t your fault, and it’s not. But that doesn’t mean you’re not carrying around the guilt and blame, and it’s not eating away at you. Forgive yourself for, as Sinatra once sang “loving not wisely, no not wisely but too well”. Forgive yourself for living as best you could under the circumstances, even if it meant that you ended up here. That’s a part of the rebirth as well; you’re letting go of the past and not being held back by the supposed “sins” of your former life.

This will be hard, I know, but you’ve got the strength and the resilience. You’ve been through hell and came out the other side. You can do this. You’ll be ok. I promise.

All will be well.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m a 28-year-old woman and I’ve been in a polyamorous relationship with a man for about a year, and lately, I’m feeling more and more left out. My partner, “Nate,” is married, and his wife, “Sophie,” who also has a partner of her own, has known about and consented to our relationship from the beginning. I’ve had relationships where my partners and I weren’t exclusive before, but this is the first time I’ve had an actual emotional connection with someone who is romantically engaged with other people too.

At first, things felt open and honest. We’d all talk together, make sure everyone’s boundaries were respected, and check in about feelings. I’ve spent time with them together, stayed over at Nate’s when Sophie was out of town (with her knowledge and permission) and even spent time with Sophie one on one. I knew going in that Nate and Sophie were going to have history and live together and that would affect things, and that I was new to polyamory, so there would be growing pains. But over the past few months, it’s like I’ve become a side note in their lives. Plans get canceled at the last minute because something “came up” between them. When we’re together, he often talks about their shared routines or mentions inside jokes that he forgets I wasn’t part of, and I end up feeling like an outsider tagging along. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he insists everything is fine and that I’m “reading too much into it.” Sophie has been sympathetic, but I still feel like it’s sympathy for someone who doesn’t understand, rather than her being supportive. 

I understand that his marriage will always come first to some extent — we talked about this going in, and that’s part of the structure we agreed on. But I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is just part of the natural imbalance in this kind of relationship, or if it’s a sign that I’m not being valued the way I should be.

Is it normal to feel this excluded in a poly relationship where one partner is married? And if it’s not, how do I even begin to address it without sounding jealous or demanding?

Signed, Feeling Like the Third Wheel

DEAR FEELING LIKE A THIRD WHEEL: This is a case of “the question you’re asking isn’t the question you think you’re asking”, and I think there’s an important one you’re not asking.

Let me start with something fairly obvious: there’s a lot of discourse about polyamory and the various forms it takes and how to manage it. There are folks who will insist that married people “can’t” be truly poly because of the inherent hierarchy, while other people will insist that “relationship anarchy” is unrealistic and unfeasible simply because you can’t expect every relationship to be equal when one is brand new and another has years of shared history, shared responsibilities and financial and social entanglements. There are folks who think kitchen-table poly (as in: everyone in the polycule lives together in a communal or shared space) is The Way while others think it’s better for everyone to have their own separate place. Get five poly people in a room and you’ll have six opinions on polyamory and all of them will conflict with the others in some fashion.

I mention this, simply to point out that there are many, many ways to have a polyamorous relationship, and the ins-and-outs of all of them will vary to one degree or another. This is important because it ties into the question you’re not asking.

So, to answer the question you think you’re asking: it’s not uncommon to feel like you’re being excluded. That doesn’t mean that it’s normal. Feeling excluded the way that you do isn’t inherent to the sort of relationship you have, but it does happen, because people are messy and concurrent relationships can be complicated and difficult to manage smoothly.

A couple who has been together for a period of time is, inevitably, going to have routines, habits, experiences, memories and inside jokes and things that, due to the linear nature of time, you will not have been part of. That necessarily doesn’t mean you’re being excluded; it just means that you weren’t there at the time when these were being formed.

Feeling excluded, however, is often a sign that there’s an imbalance somewhere. It’s one thing to not to get an inside joke. It’s another if you feel like you don’t have similar shared moments with your partner or partners.

Similarly, a couple who has been together is going to have shared responsibilities and responsibilities to one another that pre-date new partners, and the weight of that history may mean that – all things being equal – those take priority. That, however, is different from feeling like responsibilities to or with you always come second. Relationships �– whether monogamous or not – are a balancing act. While it may never be perfectly equitable, it should feel that things are roughly equal.

And it seems that for you, it doesn’t. This is why “is this normal” is the wrong question; you’re asking if you’re being unreasonable for feeling this way. And frankly, I don’t think you are. I think it may be worth your time to document things and see if this is a “feels like” vs. “objectively is” situation, but the fact that it is bothering you suggests that there may be a need going unmet here. It may be that you feel like you’re a secondary consideration, or that you and Nate haven’t had enough meaningful time to create those routines and jokes. It may mean that you feel like he’s not showing you the same level of love or consideration that he shows Sophie. Taking some time to dig into this might give you some answers, which will help shape how you should approach it.

I do think it’s fair to tell Nate that you feel like things are out of balance and that it feels as though Sophie is the default choice and you’re the secondary consideration. I’m also not thrilled that he’s told you that you’re “reading too much into it”. This might well be inartful phrasing, where he meant to say that he doesn’t consider you to be secondary or mean to make you feel excluded, but said it poorly. But I’m not necessarily inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. You know him better than I do, so you would have to be the one to make that call.

However, I think the question you should be asking is “does this relationship model in general and this relationship specifically work for me?” That, I think, cuts a little closer to the real problem. I suspect that the biggest issue here is that this is your first poly relationship and you’re entering into it as the newcomer in a relationship that’s got years of history behind it already. That can have the effect of making you feel like a junior partner, rather than someone roughly equal… or at least, where equal importance feels achievable.

I suspect that if you weren’t dating someone who is sharing the lion’s share of his life – not just his emotional connection, but his physical presence and living space – with another person, you wouldn’t feel the same way. You came into this with the understanding that he was married and lived with his spouse, but that isn’t necessarily the same as having the experience to know how that would make you feel or whether it’s the kind of relationship you ultimately want.

I think another question that you should ask is why you chose this relationship – that is, what your motivation was for agreeing to this. Obviously, you care for Nate, and you feel that it’s possible to have romantic connections to more than one person at a time. But did you agree to this relationship because it was the only way you could have a relationship with him, specifically? If that’s the case… I wonder if maybe the problem is the relationship, rather than the relationship model.

I’ve seen people enter relationships where they were – as Dan Savage terms it – “poly under duress”, and that can be a difficult place to be in. Feeling like the only way to be with someone you care about is to accept feeling as though you’re only able to have some of their time or company is rough, and it can do a real number on your self-esteem. Making yourself miserable for what feels like scraps of attention is no way to live, even if you love the person. The feeling of only being given secondary consideration at best by someone you love, and feeling like someone else is their primary concern is a lot like being stabbed with tiny knives. The pain each of them causes individually may not be significant, but it compounds quickly and can become unbearable before you realize it.

So, I think before you talk to Nate, it will be worth your time to sit down and really think about this relationship. Is this relationship meeting your needs? Is this relationship model – dating a man with a live-in spouse – one that works for you and lets you feel loved and accepted? If the answer is “yes”, then I think having an Awkward Conversation, where you lay out how you feel a more balanced relationship would look, is the right move.

But if the answer is “no” to the either of those questions, then I think it may be time to classify this relationship as a learning experience, and one that may have been right for you when you started, but isn’t right for who you are now.

Good luck.  

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I don’t know if this is the sort of think you help with, but I don’t know anyone else to ask. I don’t trust the advice I got online and my friends tell me not to risk it. 

I’m a junior in high-school and there’s a girl in my chem class I really like. We talk sometimes, mostly about homework, but she’s funny and easy to be around. I’d like to ask her to get coffee or hang out, but honestly, I’m scared it’ll turn into a big joke at school. 

People at my school love to record everything. If someone does anything remotely awkward, it ends up on Snapchat or TikTok within an hour. Some of the videos have gone viral and ended up in cringe compilations all over the place. 

I’m not a popular guy. I’m kind of a loser, and the girl I like is VERY popular, and that’s precisely the sort of content that people at my school love to share. I keep imagining myself trying to ask her out, my voice cracking or me saying something dumb or her laughing and turning me down and then the video getting passed around with people calling it “cringe.” The idea of that happening makes me freeze up every time I think about actually saying anything.

My friends tell me that it’s not worth the risk, that I’m just going to get rejected in front of the entire Internet. I don’t want to feel like I missed a chance, but I don’t want to be famous for being a loser who can’t get a date. What do I do? 

Want To Be Anti-Viral

DEAR WANT TO BE ANTI-VIRAL: Going to be honest: I realize I’m old, but it’s letters like this that make me feel like graduating high-school in the mid-90s was like getting on the last chopper out of Saigon. The s--t we had to deal with was compartmentalized in a way that doesn’t exist now.  The “cool kids” may have had an underground gossip ‘zine, but at least it was restricted to a limited number of physical copies and the bullying couldn’t follow you home after school.

I get your fear, WBAV, because this is just a new twist on an old situation. I too was a loser in high-school and the few attempts I made at asking someone on a date tended to end up being fodder for mockery later – as well as a real case of someone pretending to be interested so they could make fun of me for asking them out in the first place. I didn’t have to worry about the world seeing it, but God knows that jokes flying around school before Allison could finish the last syllable of “no” made it feel the same way. So, I won’t say that your worries are unfounded. Nor are you alone in this; this fear is apparently prevalent enough that Rolling Stone published a piece about it last month.

I will, say, however, that while your fears are real, the only real answer is to push through those fears and ask her out anyway. If you want to ask someone out on a date, you’re going to have to take the chance that they’re going to say no, and that there’s a chance that you may look stupid while doing it.  

Right now, you fear two things: being rejected and accidentally being “cringe”. You aren’t going to believe me when I tell you this, but your fear of these potential outcomes is worse than the actual consequences. Fear has a tendency to build on itself and amplify things beyond reason, and it only gets worse the longer you let it go on. Trying to avoid the outcome you’re afraid of doesn’t make the fear go away; it makes the fear worse. You go from being afraid of getting rejected or being put on someone’s cringe reel to being afraid of the anticipation of the fear of those outcomes. So now you start trying to avoid things that even trigger those feelings – quite literally becoming afraid of being afraid. The longer this goes on and the more you try to avoid those feelings, the smaller the world you can live in becomes and the fewer things you will ever allow yourself to do or try.

In the end, this pattern of avoidance becomes all-encompassing, and only later on do you realize just how much you’ve missed out on because you were afraid to step up and take the chance.

This is why my advice is very simple, very blunt and very difficult: do it anyway. Be afraid, let your knees shake, let your voice crack… but do it anyway. Because the other option is regret. 

Here’s the thing: there will never be a “perfect” way of asking someone out that will avoid all embarrassment, there is no way of avoiding the risk of rejection and there’s really no way to stop people from acting like your having the audacity to ask out the head cheerleader (or whomever) is like some massive scandal of etiquette that would make the cast of Bridgerton flutter their fans in shock. It sucks, but there isn’t a way to ask someone out that doesn’t require that you make yourself vulnerable to rejection; there is no reward without risk.

Now, I absolutely get the worry about going viral and becoming Internet famous for asking someone out in a way that isn’t 100% suaver than James Bond ordering his third martini while winning another hand of baccarat. As I said: that’s not an unfounded fear. But the actual consequences if this happens are fleeting at best. Leaving aside that you would be going viral for doing something that is possibly one of the most relatable things ever – everyone has had those moments, myself very much included – but to be perfectly blunt: this would be the drop in a bucket of “cringe” content, and not even interesting cringe content.

I realize that asking your crush out feels like its world-shattering in its scope and importance but honestly, it’s pretty banal. In order for this to be notable or memorable, you would have to f--k up in ways that the producers of the Final Destinations would think it’s a little over the top. Asking someone out when your voice squeaks a bit from nerves isn’t going to reach that level.  

This is the sort of thing that will vanish like a fart in a windstorm, simply because “oooh, Billy asked out Marina” just isn’t interesting enough to hold anyone’s attention, especially for folks who don’t know Billy or Marina. There will be other people, doing equally cringe things and being filmed that will overtake this before fifth period French. And the odds that it will actually follow you or mark you out in any way shape or form are so remote that I’m not sure they make numbers large enough to measure it.

But part of what’s animating this fear is that fear of being “cringe”. As much as I hate to be a cliché Old Man of the Internet: there’re few things I actively dislike as much as how Gen-Z and Gen Alpha has made “cringe” something dire. The aversion to being “cringe” is ultimately an aversion to sincerity and an elevation of aura farming – attempts at performative coolness in the eyes of a world that honestly couldn’t give less of a f--k. Cringe is, at its core, other people being afraid of being sincere and authentic because it doesn’t match the curated ‘cool’ exterior that people think is a substitute for character and personality. It’s giving other people veto power over who you are as a person because they think it’s somehow embarrassing to like stuff. Or to sincerely desire something or aspire to something that is outside the narrow array of approved goals, desires or lives.

Christ, it was dumb enough when us Gen Xers thought cynicism and apathy were entire personalities. Watching subsequent generations take it to the next level just makes it even dumber.

This is why I think you should ask her out anyway – because it will make you face the fear of being seen as being cringe and realizing that cringe is a stupid thing to be afraid of. Cringe has power because people give it power, but that power is inherent on agreeing that sincerity and authenticity is bad and that doing things sincerely but imperfectly is a flaw of some sort and quite frankly: F--k. That. Noise. Refusing to feel ashamed for being human, for being authentic, for caring for something is a power move. Putting yourself out there, without first having to armor yourself in false nonchalance is ballsy. It’s a level of courage that the people recording those cringe compilations wish they had. Refusing to be held back by other people trying to control you because they are afraid of being caught being sincere will set you free in ways that none of these people can even imagine.

Don’t kill cringe, kill the part of you that cringes.

Now that having been said, I will give you a couple of tips that will help you feel a little less like you’ve got the spotlight on you and minimize the likelihood that you’re going to get your 15 minutes of shame.

First: don’t try to get her alone or pull her aside when you want to ask her out. That’s going to send a signal – to observers, but also to your brain – that A Big Deal. You already talk with her during and after class; that’s as good of a time to bring it up as any. Bringing it up in casual conversation well help you feel normal because it is normal. As a bonus: it will also minimize the likelihood that anyone will notice that you’re asking and decide to start filming.

Also, ask her out in person, not over text or DMs. It shows more confidence, and it means there’s nothing for someone to screenshot and post.  

Second: rehearse the scene in your mind and imagine things going well. Our brains can’t tell the difference between what we imagine and what actually happens. We respond to imagined scenarios as though they actually happened. This is why we spiral into panic mode when we imagine all the worst-case scenarios that could result; our brains are treating these as memories and not fictional scenarios. Rehearsing the moment in your mind and choosing to see it happen smoothly, uneventfully but successfully will help calm you down and keep you from freaking yourself out before you even open your mouth.

Second: in the moments leading up to asking her out and during, focus on your breathing. Keep your breathing slow and even – slow inhale, pause, slow exhale. When we get nervous, our hearts race, adrenaline dumps into our blood and we take faster, shallower breaths in order to oxygenate ourselves in preparation for fight or flight. But by breathing slowly, deeply, we break that autonomic cycle and force our heart rate to slow. You can’t be afraid when your pulse is normal; the body just doesn’t work that way. Your brain will take the signals that everything is fine and you will feel calmer and more in control.

Third: keep the actual ask simple and casual. It’s not that you don’t sincerely want to ask her if she would like to get coffee on Saturday, it’s that this isn’t a big deal. Her answer will not determine whether the world ends or not; it will simply change your plans for the weekend. Worst case, you go see the new Predator movie instead. The ask itself should be very straightforward: “I really enjoy talking to you; would you like to get coffee on Saturday” or “I was going to go to $COOL_THING this weekend, and I think you might enjoy it too. Would you like to go with me?” No need for a big preamble, no need to justify why you want to go or to take her. You may feel the urge to fill up any silence with explanations or disqualifiers. Don’t; they aren’t necessary, they won’t change things and they will just make you feel more frantic and nervous. You asked a normal and straightforward question for a perfectly normal and mundane reason. Keeping it simple will not only show confidence, but make it less likely that anyone will think this is great content. When you feel the urge to babble or fill in the silence, just pay attention to your breath and slow it down. You’ll be fine.

Fourth: if she says no, take it with grace. Just say “no worries, just thought I’d ask,” and let the topic drop. You may segue into upcoming homework assignments or asking about notes from the last time you had lab work to do, or there may not be anything else to say other than “see you at lunch”. A no may be disappointing, but that’s all it is.

Fifth: if, if, something awkward happens – your voice cracks, you stub your toe, you accidentally bump into a pile of books – play it off. Your voice cracks? Clear your throat and say “ahem, sorry, let’s try that again”. You knock over a stack of books? Take an exaggerated bow like you meant to do it before helping pick them back up – again, calmly, not in a panic. 

Awkwardness becomes a problem only in trying to ignore it. Calling out the awkward and making it clear that you understood that the moment was awkward breaks the awkwardness. I have literally choked – as in, I aspirated on my own saliva – trying to talk to someone I thought was hot. Instead of running away in shame – like I wanted to – I paused, cleared my throat and said “ok, sorry, I think I can do better, let me try that again,” then quite literally backed up ten feet and walked up to them like I was saying hello for the first time. This got a much-needed laugh and, later, a phone number; the awkward start became endearing because I leaned into it instead of trying to ignore it.

As an added bonus: this cuts down on the value of any mistakes as “cringe content”. Much of the value of cringe content is schadenfreude – enjoying someone else’s misery. If you aren’t acting like you’ve done something wrong or weird or cringe, it’s not going to be nearly as fun or engaging as content. This is why taking the “no” in good grace – if you get one – is helpful. Someone pulling their head down and running away in shame is funny. A guy just smiling, nodding and walking off like no big deal is… just a guy walking away. Whoop de s--t.

The last thing I will say is that getting comfortable with asking people out – in person, making noises with your mouth – will be like a super power as you get older. It’s a skill, like any other, and like all skills, it improves with practice. Getting comfortable now will make talking to women and asking them out on dates infinitely easier as you transition to college, post-college life and beyond. So, even if you don’t get a date out of this, the simple fact that you made the attempt and survived (for suitably high-school drama definitions of ‘survive’) will have taught you how not a big deal this is and how easy it is to do when you carve away the extraneous wibbling and worrying.

Just remember: someone saying “no thank you” isn’t failure or a judgement on you. It often has nothing to do with you at all. All being turned down means is that now you’ve gotten an answer, and you’re free to turn your time and attention to meeting someone who does want to go out with you.

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com