Dear Obnoxious Make-out Couple,

Let me begin by saying this is certainly not a statement of jealousy*. The way you two flaunt about the gym like true love does exist - shame on you.

You, Mrs. Lady. Really, you should stop flaunting your banana rack. It's downright repulsing**. You spend too much of your time boasting your slightly curved and torpedo-like breasts. Shame on you. It's not like any of us guys*** have the desire to watch you bounce, smiling as you walk by, always smelling so good.

It’s no secret, the economy blows. I don’t need to keep up on the latest word from the Wall Street Journal to figure it out. I simply look in my back pocket.

My wallet – a male symbol of maturity, of post-adolescent togetherness – was at one time filled, often to capacity, with crisp, green bills and an abundance of condoms. No longer is that the case. I look inside, searching for remnants of the past, a better time, but sorely I am greeted only by loneliness and the fleeting thought of what once was.

The crappiest part about it is that, concerning money or sex, you can be happy with one or the other. When you have money, if you aren’t shackin’ up with a gold-digging beauty, you can still be happy with your money. If you don’t have money, you can say, “Well, at least I’m getting my hump on,” all the while retaining some sense of dignity.

I was recently asked by a female, “Do guys really care about women’s imperfections?”

Yes. Yes we do. But not without cause.

There's no way around it. Some people are just awkward. And I believe there is no better resource of awkward conversation than right inside one's own family - my family, to be exact.

My family is a complex combination of my mother's assertive, loving and affectionate side and my father's reserved, quiet and sometimes unwelcoming side. It's the latter I find more awkward.