During my college senior spring, one of just two classes I took was an acting class. I just needed any credit, plus a few friends were taking it, including some girls on the cheerleading team, so I figured what the heck. Oh, and I lived in a house just a block away from the edge of campus where the theater was, making the commute to class unbeatable.
One hot, sweaty day near the end of the semester, we were performing small group scenes. The professor decided our theme would be water — namely, throwing water all over each other and staying cool. He was fun and ridiculous that way, and it really got us out of the awkwardness that sometimes stifled a theater class full of non-actors.
I don’t remember what my group’s scene was, but we all ended up standing in a line in front of our audience of classmates. I’d been one of the lucky recipients of water thrown on me, and my t-shirt was halfway off, just draped over one shoulder. Now, I’m handsome, and I’ve always stayed in decent enough shape playing intramural sports, but that semester, since I had little else to do, I’d been hitting the gym a few times a week. Nothing crazy, but dumbbell workouts had my upper body looking muscular and trim.