So many questions. Why would I agree to a morning photo shoot? Why does my face go all puffy when I wake up? Why would I choose to wear a trench coat and a button-down shirt with yoghurt stains? Why didn't I put product in my hair? Why do I always go all clammy even when it's -16C? And why, why would I pose like that?
You may, or I hope may not, have spotted my selection by Elle magazine as one of the 41 most eligible bachelors in America.
I'm not sure if the 40 other guys on Elle.com's list have endured the same social beating as I have this week, but I suppose only a fool would've expected anything less. Only a fool would've expected the list to quietly pass by his colleagues and friends without so much as a Facebook share.
Only a fool would succumb to his editor's request, and agree to a column explaining how it came about.
If you don't regularly check Elle.com, there's really no need to revisit my profile. In a soup of cheekbones and testosterone, of Brooklyn-chic and man-swag, I'm an awkward, somewhat puffy outlier among America's most desirable dudes. You might wonder how the others are bachelors. With me, well ... yeah. You just wonder.
A couple of Kiwi New York mates got roped in, too: the photographer Henry Hargreaves and writer Isaac Hindin-Miller also had their snaps taken.
But those guys are trendy and good with this stuff. Besides, what would you do if asked in an interview the craziest thing you've ever done for love?
I panicked and tried to make jokes.
So many questions.
Was I spotted on the street? Was I dashing through Soho between high-end boutiques with Giselle on one arm and Claudia on the other? Did a bigwig publishing scout stumble across my work and think, "This guy's the Foster Wallace of his generation!"
Nope. My good mate's a journo, and got tasked with finding bachelors for Elle.
"I knew it had to be something like that," said my gleeful editor, when I explained.
We all did, boss. We all did.
• Jack Tame is on Newstalk ZB, Saturdays, 9am-midday.