For as long as I can remember, trying to look sexy is something that I cannot do. Not that I’ve been trying to do it for that long, but I guess I always thought I’d get to an age/place/stage that would mark the time at which I was no longer so calamitously awkward. Last week Sean and I headed up to the lake for date night. It was spectacular—with no one on the lake, just enough sun to be gorgeous and just enough wind to cool. Sean was taking us out to putter in Northwest Bay and I was devouring the quiet. Everywhere I looked was more golden sparkle of sunshine on water and sparks of crimson in stands of tress. I gabbed my…