All right, you’ve come this far. You’re sitting next to her on the grass, it’s a beautiful night, you’re wearing the only nice shirt you own, and you’ve found a posture that hides your unholy armpit swamp.You’re rocking a minor splash of Antonio Banderas cologne, and, for better or worse, you’re pretty sure you’re the only person on the planet who owns that cologne. Wait, why are you even wearing cologne? You’re supposed to Be Yourself, and you’re not a Cologne Type of Guy. This was a terrible mistake; everything is going terribly and you’re going to die alone.

Get yourself together! You’re Cruise, you’re Pitt… no, you’re Swayze. You’re “Ghost”-era Swayze, and she is your pre-Ashton Demi. Like them, what you need right now is the Hand-on-Hand. A gentle Hand-on-Hand will be your romantic traffic light. If she accepts, it’s green, and you go. If she accepts tentatively, it’s yellow, and you go. What would Swayze say? He’d say “The red bulb is broken, motherfrogger,” because you can’t curse on cable, and then he’d play a guitar solo on a moving motorcycle. Let’s do this.

Alright, pinky. You’re just a naïve little inchworm that I have no control over, and… contact! She didn’t move her hand! There is a bead of sweat racing down your back and towards your ass crack like Luke Skywalker approaching the Death Star trench. And these sweaty palms… she probably thinks you just crawled through a vat of diced honeydew and hello, she’s moving her thumb back and forth! This is monumental! Now distract her by pointing to an “owl,” and then reach for that peppermint Cert you strategically placed in your pocket four hours ago. Just grab it real smooth, don’t even look, pop it right in, and- okay, that was a nickel. Swallow it and deal with it later.

Why are you talking about Immanuel Kant? You should be talking about something meaningless and playful that can lead to a kiss. Cats! Sweaters! Meatloaf! Bocce! Oh God, you just actually said “Cats, sweaters, meatloaf, bocce.” You’re ruined. Wait… she’s laughing. She thought it was cute. She’s leaning. Lean. Lean with her! Tilt to the right. No, the left. The right! And…

The kiss! Boom shakalaka! A game of NBA Jam would be great right now! No, stay focused. Close your eyes. Wait, open them. Are hers open? No. Close them. Open them. Aw, she’s so pretty. Hey, a squirrel. Take a picture, Squirrel, it’ll last longer. Close your eyes. Breathe through your nose. Stifle that burp. Not too much tongue. Too soon for a love bite? Aaaand release. Smile shyly. Not too much eye contact.

Now whatever you do, don’t ask her what this makes us. After all, girls hate guys that overanalyze. Thank God you’re not one of those.