Hobbledehoy or Hobbledeclueless?

I recently came across this piece on The Morning News, in which the author finds a definition of his character in the world literature. Specifically, the works of Anthony Trollope and the male archetype he terms 'hobbledehoy' and defines as follows:

"There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. "

The 'blurb' or foreword for the article (or whatever the technical term is for that brief description of an article you can find in the table of contents or the online equivalent) describes hobbledehoys as men who are 'shy or bad at dancing;' the author Juan Martinez simply holds up Charlie Brown as a classic hobbledehoy, and that paints about as clear a picture as you're likely to get.

After reading something like that naturally I wondered, am I a hobbledehoy? So I considered...
Bad at dancing? Oh yes. Horrid. I dance like the proverbial white boy that I am.
Shy? Well, sorta. On the one hand, I generally don't go around chatting up strange women (except on the rare occasion when I do chat up a strange woman). On the other hand, given an introduction or some other in I can carry on a decent, sometimes witty and entertaining, conversation. So not shy, just excessively formal.
Charlie Brown-ish? Mmmm, not so much. No football kicking or little red-headed girls in this boy's life.

Well then, I thought, not a hobbledehoy. And then my lizard-brain tapped on my mental shoulder.

The lizard-brain, for those of you wondering, is my very non-technical term for that part of my subconscious brain that processes various impressions, vibes, instincts and other sensory data that is not easily quantifiable, and sends the results to my conscious mind in the form of vague impressions. Impressions like 'somebody is staring at my back' or the classic 'I got a bad feeling about this.'

Anyhow, the afore-mentioned conversation went something like this:

Lizard Brain: Hey Dan.
Dan: Um, yes?
LB: Remember that girl from Friday night?
D: Sort of... .
LB: Let me refresh your memory. The one that struck up a conversation with you...
D: Oh her. I remember...
LB: ...and made a point of introducing herself..
D: Yes, I remember now.
LB: ...and kept talking to you after her friends walked away?
D: Right. I remember. What's your point?
LB: Did it ever occur to you that she did that for a reason? That she was, you know, interested in you?
D: Er.. well, no, I just figured she was, well, being social.
LB: (sighs, mutters to self) Riiiight. Being social.
D: Oh. I see what you're getting at.
LB: Now you do. Four days later.
D: I guess I wasn't thinking along those lines...
LB: Key words there. Wasn't. Thinking.
D: Ok, ok. Next time...
LB: Next time listen to me. I can't help you if you won't freaking listen! Sheesh. How you manage to read all those books and get dumber by the day is beyond me.
D: Now wait a minute! One blown opportunity doesn't make me dumb!
LB: Sure thing Slick. And another thing... .
D: What now?
LB: The next time I tell you to lay your hand down, lay it down. You had no business going all in with a lousy two pair.
D: (swerves off the road, drive up onto sidewalk)

Nope, not a hobbledehoy. Hobbledeclueless.