Leading up to last Thursday’s bachelor auction for Windwood Farm Home for Children, I was never nervous. 
I set up a date that included skydiving, massage, and dinner at Cordavi, guaranteeing that with even the worst of company I’d enjoy myself.
My first “totally out-of-my-element” moment came when I sat down at Allure Salon, (my first salon, and truthfully, my first professional haircut in 8 years), and Nick the stylist transferred a wad of goo from his palm to my head. “You’ll have to air-dry,” he explained. Over in the green room, I discovered that my “formal wear” was the only outfit that included khakis. My tie, however, was gold and pure bling. 
The wine and champagne table was stocked well enough that I worked up a good buzz, and felt ready and confident when it came time to split the curtains and walk the runway.
But no one ever told me what to do when I got to the end of the very short runway. So I stood there, waiting for the bids. I turned around and walked back, took off my jacket, then walked the runway again, looking every bit the lanky goofball that I inevitably am. The bids thankfully came, (I was bought by a friend at City Paper for $275), and we’re going skydiving. Well worth it, and days later, my hair’s still never been so soft.
