Dork Not a Bond

I used to think I wanted to be a Renaissance guy. I've tried hard to work toward that. 

Let's see, . . . (a bit of a humble brag coming) . . . play the piano, . . . write novels, . . . work in technology, . . . I have my MBA, and I'm working toward my PhD, . . . former sergeant in Spec Ops, . . .  I can even cook a mean pork shoulder or bake a smashing scone . . .  my margarita slush (a recipe I stole from a friend) is the talk of the block (if not the hood). But, instead of being Renaissance, I think I've become utilitarian. A jack of all trades, master of none.

What's this have to do with anything? 

Well, I got this pic of me at an awards banquet the other night and I would like to think a renaissance man could pull off wearing a tux without looking so much like a dork. 

With fashion, I am very much a utility knife. The swiss army knife type. I wear trousers not slacks, sweaters instead of jackets, I order my clothes off amazon, or off the rack, getting fitted or tailored clothes never happens. That can be seen easily in the fact that my collar doesn't really fit on my neck. 

Thinking back, I should have worn my sleek, businessy, fashion-forward cool guy glasses, rather than my birth control glasses. I guess because the awards banquet was out of town. Had it been in town, I would have worn my cool glasses. That alone might have sufficed to get me out of utility knife world. Still, fun to have to get dressed up every now and then, even if I can't pull off Bond level cool. 

Not sure who told me to smile like a dork. Wonder what I was thinking? And I wonder how much the babe on my arm distracts from the dork smiling in the tux. I hope a lot!