If You Belonged Here

Darth Dateable

Okay for all of the single nerdy-geek females out there who are looking for straight love, I've got the answer to your problems. You see, over the course of the last ten years, I've worked out a system for finding a nerdy-geek guy. (I don't think my system works for finding nerdy-geek girls, for that I suggest you join the local chapter of LGBT and go to the symposiums. Easy-peasy.) But the single nerdy-geek guy tends to both work a lot and engage in either solitary or man-geek pursuits that, well, just don't attract the honeys.

You've got to have a plan.

Lucky for you, I've got your plan right here.

Go to the nearest bookstore. You want a bookstore, not a library. Make your way to the fiction area. Keep your eyes peeled. First good looking guy you see in the sci-fi section, grab him. That's your new boyfriend.

Unless he's wearing a size twelve wedding ring. Then that's Mr. Poppins and I advise you to stay at least ten feet away or I might have to stomp on your head.

Seriously, I do not want to do prison time. But I will. I've watched some Prison Break and if those yahoos can escape in less than two seasons, I'm confident I can, too.

But back to the sci-fi. You have to be patient. Really patient. There are bound to be a few guys who look like they've never seen daylight. And a few guys who look like they dwell under a bridge. And at least one guy who smells suspiciously like urine. You want to avoid the bridge-dwellers and bed wetters. They are not who you are looking for. On the other hand, if you see a pasty-boy nerdy-geek, who needs little more than a Queer Eye makeover to make him presentable, I say you should seriously consider him. Most nerdy-geeks are fine with having someone else pick out their clothes and choose their hairstyle. They can even be convinced to lose, or at least groom, the facial hair for the right someone. Especially if that someone provides human-on-human sex on a regular basis.

Now let's talk about what you should do when you find your man. Well, he's probably not in tune with subtle hints. He also might not want to risk bothering you by acknowledging your existence. Don't be daunted. Just go up to him and say, "hi, I think I might be your new girlfriend; can you help me confirm that rumor? Maybe snopes?" The nerdy-geek may respond quite literally, "no, I don't remember dating you, sorry" or, if he's one of the better dressed specimens, "I'm taken, but not by you."

Let's address the latter response first. Don't just give up immediately because you meet a little opposition. Maybe the geek in question is unhappily taken. That's how I got Mr. Poppins, and for that matter, that's how Mr. Poppins got me. So you should just ask, "How's that going?" Geek's usually find it impossible not to answer a direct question, even it the answer they give tends toward overly detailed and meandering. So listen closely, or you may miss the point. Once you figure out what that is, it's time to make a decision. If his current relationship is going great, then cut your losses. If, on the other hand, it is going not-so-great, your geek may be looking for a way out. You are just the nudge he needs. Offer to buy him a friendly cup of coffee. Say it like this, "please let me buy you a cup of coffee." Phrase the offer exactly this way. Verbatim. Do not ask it as a question, or even let your voice lift in an implied question, but state it confidently as a direct request.

Remember the please. Most geeks will automatically say yes to a polite, unambiguous, direct request from a female that does not hinge on their opinion or involve carpooling. So remember the wording. Use it. See what happens.

Now if your chosen nerdy-geek is single, don't expect that you can just grab him by the shirt and take him home. Although that sometimes works. Still, I recommend a gentler approach. Try talking to him. Expect the conversation to be awkward at first. It can take a while for a geek to get comfortable enough to break out the dry wit and the rough-hewn charm. If all else fails, you may have to bring the conversation around to Linux. Give him a chance. Give him your phone number. Get his phone number. If he doesn't call you in a day or two, call him. Remind him that he is your boyfriend. Tell him that the two of you have plans to visit the nearest aero-space museum. This will work. While touring said museum, be prepared to outline your expectations of him as your boyfriend. Spare no detail. He will appreciate your candor.

If you have trouble finding a nerdy-geek in the sci-fi stacks, you may have to move your net over to the engineering area, or even the aforementioned aero-dynamics. But since a lot of geeks shop amazon, you could still come up empty, in which case you'll have to get creative. With that in mind, I advise you not to rule out conventions, such as E3 and Comicon.

There are a lot of nerdy-geeks at conventions. You want to choose a geek who is not in costume. His friends can be in costume; that's okay. But your geek should be dressed as a civilian. It's fine if he knows a few words and phrases in Klingon or Elvish, but he should not be fluent.

I recommend you avoid Renaissance Faires unless you want to dress up as Maid Marion. But if you already have a period costume, then you're probably already attending the faires. In that case you should have a bagged your geek already. I imagine snagging a man at a Renaissance Faire to be about as easy as shooting fish in a barrel.

But if you go to the faires alone and go home alone, despite flirting like a harlot, well, let's talk about that.

I don't want to be too personal, but you should consider having your eyebrows waxed. And if the esthetician says "lip, too" as if it's obvious, your answer should be "yes." Even if you're afraid it will hurt.

Let me let you in on a little secret: you might not have the sticking power to lose those last sixty-or-so nagging pounds but that doesn't mean you can't be pretty. You may want to consider watching a few makeover shows. If the people getting made over look better before the makeover than you do now, you've got to get serious. Ditto if you can't see what's wrong with the way the makeover-ee looked in their before shot.

Maybe you should just send me a picture. I'll let you know what you need. Seriously, I once made over a 28 year-old-virgin (with the help of The Dol) and he lost his celibate status (without the help of The Dol) within a few months. And he didn't even have to leave the house. I'm sure his roommate was, ahem, not happy.

Back to attracting a nerdy-geek.

I know that many of you are under the impression that the male should approach the female. What you need to know is: maybe he can't. Why? Because maybe he is a little afraid of you. If you worked together on, say, a software project, he could manage over time to invite you to lunch. But most nerdy-geeks aren't known for unabashed sexual aggression. So introduce yourself. Do not be coy. I'm not saying you should hump his leg or anything, just be upfront about the fact that you like him in that way. Think of most nerdy-geeks as running DOS. Say something like, "I think we would have fun if we went on a date to the aero-space museum this Saturday at around 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Where should we meet?" The more specific you can be, the better the conversation will go.

The dateable nerdy-geek is an elusive creature. The statistics don't lie. But they aren't unicorns. You can find one, and a good one at that, if you try.

P.S. Stay tuned for Darth Dateable Part II when I tackle the question of internet dating.

Pack It Out

Take a piece of trash out of your car as you leave. I've always preferred a tidy car. Even if it's a rental. I accumulate my share of used tissues, water bottles, and coffee cups. I have even been seen with the occasional bag of fast food. But I carry my litter with me when I leave the car. Now I'm not saying I always take everything.

Nope.

Sometimes I accumulate more than I can comfortably carry, so I just take what I can. I get the rest the next time. This keeps the debris manageable. If you've ever rolled a vehicle, you know the perils of a stray cream soda bottle.

But for Hank's sake, please don't make your trash our trash. And by that I mean, don't leave soda cups or Gatorade containers full of pee behind when you pull out of your parking space at Target. That's not nice, people. Not that the kind of person who would read this blog is the kind of person who would do that.

Also, if you have a disposable cup that still has some liquid in it, dump the liquid in a nearby flower bed before you ditch it in a public can. It's not mandatory but it's a nice gesture toward the person who has to empty the trash. Sure that person signed up for the job, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't use our manners.

Oh, an aside to those who have children in diapers: ziplocs. I know that diapers occasionally have to be changed in a public bathroom, and I sure as heck don't expect you to carry a poopy home, but if you could just see your way to tucking that bad boy into a ziploc and sealing it tight, well, I for one would appreciate it.

Okay, Maybe Some Humping

Do you remember when I said that I couldn't watch humping on screen and that romance novels made me uncomfortable. Well, apparently that wasn't entirely true. My brother (who really wishes I'd give him an edgier screen name than my brother) reminded me that back when I was in high school I watched 9 ½ Weeks about as many times as I watched Mommy Dearest when I was in elementary school. Just to clarify, that's an awful lot of times. And I can't deny it.

I also watched Wild Orchid and Wild Orchid II more times than I care to admit. Especially Wild Orchid II. And I wasn't alone, although I won't name names Bookgirl. These movies, as long as no legal adult was in the room, did not embarrass me. I was enthralled, fascinated, and in my now-adult opinion, completely mislead about sex and relationships. Not that I don't believe that somewhere out there, someone is doing it in a clock tower, I just don't think that I'm ever going to be able to do an impromtu strip-tease like Kim Basinger--or meet a really nice boy with bright prospects, from a good family, who will want to marry me in spite of the fact that I'm a prostitute. As we say around here, miracle no happen.

In spite of all that, I really enjoyed those movies at the time although, like Mommy Dearest, they might lose a little of their luster if I were to watch them again now. Still, apparently, under the right circumstances, I was, once upon a time, able to watch movies with humping. Lots and lots of humping.

But I did not have a corresponding set of exceptions in the book world. As far as I can remember. Although I do remember thinking that Stephen King had something of a point when he wrote that it was a wonder that a woman could look at an erect penis without laughing. (This is not a direct quote because I do not remember which book it is from. The line was clearly not pivotal to the plot, and as I have read all of Mr. King's books, there is no way to easily narrow down the list of titles, let alone find the precise page and paragraph to collect a quote. I am just not that dedicated.)

Trust me, King wrote it and I was not the least bit embarrassed to read it or to type the word penis just now. See: penis, penis, penis. I am fine with penises. I have even read a book called A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis, a gift from Bookgirl who saw the title and just knew it had to be mine. She was right, I loved the penis book. There were even descriptions of eunuchs humping (women had to do something before the pill). And I didn't even blush. Because it was presented in a historical context. No romance. Not a drop.

Which brings me to the point of my confession. Because, this is a confession. Of sorts. Some of you may have noticed that I have linked to a blog called The Celibate Nympho (and if you are reading this, hello Nympho), and I admit, this seems to fly in the face of everything I've said about humping. We'll get to that in a minute.

Because this is not just a confession. More than admitting my strange list of exceptions to the humping rule, I feel like I owe an explanation to all the people who are linking to me from Nympho's blog. I keep some steamy company over there and I wonder if people linking from Nympho's blog are disappointed when they get here. I also wonder if that random person who googled the word domination and found me, Polly Poppins, got anything approaching satisfaction. Maybe. But only if the mystery googler followed the link to The Celibate Nympho.

Why do I, Polly Poppins, the woman who had to look away when Nicole Kidman and Jude Law consummated their sorta marriage in Cold Mountain, feel so fine about reading a sex blog that I decide to share it with the hundreds of people who visit my site every week. Not that Nympho only blogs about sex, and not that the blog post that hooked me wasn't about sex. For one thing, there's no sense of intruding on a personal moment, no fly-on-the-wall violation of privacy. Nympho doesn't overly romanticize her physical encounters. She's unapologetic about her sexuality. And she is extremely likable--when it comes to her dedication to work, health, faith, and her daughter, she's downright wholesome. But the most important reason is that The Celibate Nympho can write. She can take everyday words and make them shake and shimmy until they drop like dervishes after the dance. I'm surprised her keyboard doesn't catch fire. The Nympho's got craft, too, and you'd better believe I'm talking about her writing. She's got description, pace, and dialogue toeing the line.

Maybe it's her natural bent as a submissive, but she's disciplined in more than the bedroom. Her writing is so clean and captivating, I forget I'm reading. Although occasionally, I admit to coming across a bit that I have to skim out of pure prudishness. And some stuff just sounds like it hurts. But mostly, I am transported and transfixed.

Now you might ask: what about the pictures?

I don't know how else to put it, but as an INTJ once I decide I like someone, that they've got my support, suddenly my worldview shifts to accommodate everything they might do up until they hit a relationship deal breaker. Then it's over. But until that time, they've got a huge credit account to bank on. And I can rationalize anything they do (lie, cheat, steal, maybe murder) as completely acceptable, even commendable, regardless of the fact that I might judge another person harshly for the exact same behavior. (I never told you life was fair, buttercup.) And so, no joke, I find The Nympho's pictures, which usually wouldn't be my cup of tea, endearing, vulnerable, even sweet. Probably not the look she was going for, but that's what I see.

And here's the big reveal: I think I am becoming a better writer because I read The Celibate Nympho. She has showed me another side of language, another set of physical energy to tap into, a more sensual way of experiencing the world. And by sensual, I don't mean sexual, I mean MBTI sensing. Because, from what I read, she is living in her own skin every bit as much as she is living in her head. She doesn't spend all of her time working over motivation and thought, she deals with concrete details and sensations.

Coincidently, I wrote everything in this post up until this sentence last night. I got a comment on No Humping from Diosa, who had no idea I was about to readdress this topic, this afternoon:

Never had a problem with sex on screen. I don't find it embarrassing.
In fact it can be rather educational. I don't like romance novels. I'd
rather read penthouse forum. I like my sex straight up, not disguised
as literature. So, not all INTJ's think alike on this matter.

Bookgirl works on a lot of, ahem, adult titles so I naturally found myself talking to her at length about how confounded I am by how much I love Nympho's writing. She said, "it's not the sex that makes you uncomfortable, it's the romanticizing of sex and the emotion (read: sentimentality) that bother you."

I guess, like Diosa, I prefer my sex straight up. But I also love fabulous writing. Which is why even though I would have told you that I was not interested in books about rotting corpses, assassinated presidents, or child abuse, I loved, Stiff, Assassination Vacation, and That Mean Old Yesterday. I also love Bones, Biography, and the unforgettable Mommy Dearest.

I guess it's not only my morals that come with a huge gray area.