Nerd Girl

by Lee, Sue

  “Did you miss it when you left?”

  “Yeah, I did. But, I had other priorities that needed to be taken care of,” he said thoughtfully. “After a while, my mom got better and starting adjusting to a new life without my dad. My sister graduated. I had always wanted to go to grad school and get an MBA, so I applied to the Stanford business program. I got in, fortunately, and then found myself back in the Silicon Valley.”

  “But you moved back to Seattle again after that?” I was really curious about Ryan’s life story. I kept peppering him with questions and he didn’t seem to mind. I found everything about him so interesting. He was both thoughtful and introspective about his answers.

  “There were a lot of jobs in the Bay Area, but I really felt that I needed to be here for my mom. She missed my dad so much and I could tell it was hard to have me away again. MS offered me a Product Management job out of grad school, so I took it. I’ve been at MS ever since.”

  “What group did you say you were in again?” I asked him.

  “I’m in the US Sub in marketing. What about you?”

  “I’m in CMG.”

  He nodded recognizing the name of my new department, the Corporate Marketing Group, but didn’t inquire any further. We continued to talk comfortably through our dinner. I only told him half the truth about why I’d decided to change jobs. I couldn’t exactly tell him I took it to forget about my ex-boyfriend. He wanted to hear more about Anna and me and what growing up was like as twins. He seemed genuinely interested in hearing everything I volunteered to tell him about our unique relationship. He asked a lot of questions about my childhood and college years. We even discussed politics, which tended to be a subject I’d normally avoid when I didn’t know someone very well.

  Through our conversation, I learned that he was well-read, well-informed on current world events, and had some strong but very respectful opinions about the state of our economy and the election. Fortunately, we voted along the same party lines. I bet he was on the debate team in high school. I loved listening to him talk and found his intelligence incredibly sexy. I found the stubble on his chin sexy, too, and my gaze lingered on it every time he brought his hand up to rub his chin. He did this regularly whenever I was speaking and it was his turn to listen.

  His own stories told me a lot about the type of man he was. He put his family first, he was unselfish and responsible, he was extremely intelligent and ambitious, but he also seemed to keep his personal life separate from his professional life. I loved that even though we both worked at MS, we opted not to talk much about it. I was honored by the amount of personal information that he chose to reveal to me and was surprised at my own willingness to open up about my family and myself.

  I found it so easy to talk to him, to be with him. Any shyness or awkwardness had worn off soon after we sat down for dinner. Questions and comments kept slipping out of my mouth before I realized what I’d said—there just didn’t seem to be a filter here with him. Maybe he felt or sensed the same thing. For someone I’d only just met, it was hard to believe how comfortable our conversation was and how fluidly we moved from one topic to another.

  Then there was the obvious attraction between the two of us. I had felt it since the moment we shook hands earlier in the evening and I felt it the whole time we were talking. It was like there was this electrical current vacillating and humming between us. Through the night, there were some short lulls between our conversations, but they weren’t uncomfortable and there wasn’t an awkward need to fill the quiet space.

  During those short lulls, we gave each other shy smiles, like we had each had some sort of secret that we didn’t want to share just yet. I had never experienced such comfort and ease with a man on a first date before. Not that this was a first date or anything. In fact, I’m not really sure what this was tonight. This evening was slowly turning into an unexpected and special gift. My confidence and ego had been shattered over these last few months and it felt so good to have a man look at me appreciatively and talk to me about something other than work. I was flattered by his genuine interest in my intellect, my stories, and just me.

  I sensed one area of reservation on both our parts, though. I really didn’t want to talk about relationships with him; the last thing I wanted to bring up was Andrew. I purposely stayed away from any discussion topic that strayed in that territory and he seemed to do the same. I just didn’t feel ready to go there yet. Though I had my reasons for not discussing these sensitive subjects, I found myself very curious and wanting to understand more about his reasons for keeping silent on the same matter. Who was the friend that had cancelled on him tonight, anyway? The way he reacted, I guessed it was a female friend. Maybe I would never know.

  A shared bottle of wine later, the restaurant was getting ready to close. We were the last people there on a Thursday night; it was nearly midnight and I could tell the wait staff was getting a little impatient with us. We had long since paid our bill, or rather, Ryan had paid our bill. He used the whole “I hit you with my car” defense on me, so I let him buy me dinner and all my drinks.

  “Where did you park?” he asked casually.

  “Just down the street in front of the bookstore.” I suddenly felt shy and awkward again.

  “I’ll walk you there,” he said.

  “You don’t have to.” Upper Queen Anne was a very safe and well-lit neighborhood; I wasn’t the least bit worried about walking to my car alone.

  “I want to,” he insisted.

  When we got up to leave the restaurant, he steered me towards the door with his hand lightly placed on my lower back. Instant goosebumps. As we walked down the sidewalk to my car, there was a chill in the midnight air. My blazer was in my car, so I folded my arms over my chest and shivered. Without hesitating, Ryan draped one arm around me and rubbed my arm under his hand to generate some warmth. Oddly, it felt completely natural; his hand on my arm felt warm and comforting and I almost felt like I was melting into him. I no longer felt chilled, but heated from my increasing pulse. As he brought my body in towards his side, I noticed his muscles were lean and strong. I snuggled into him as we walked. He smelled like soap and a visual of a mountain fresh spring ran through my mind, just like a corny commercial. I’m glad he was holding me tight, because I was starting to feel a little breathless and lightheaded. I’m not sure if it was the wine or his touch and proximity.

  I pressed the unlock button with my key and the car beeped twice. He released me and then stood only a few inches from me. I turned to him and said quietly, “Thank you, Ryan. This was a really unexpected and lovely evening.”

  “I had a really great time tonight with you, too. It was a very pleasant surprise,” he said almost to himself.

  I smiled shyly and gazed into his eyes, which now looked dark midnight blue.

  “I’m so glad I bumped into you.”

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it.

  He chuckled then, too, as he caught on to the double meaning. “Okay, that was lame. No pun intended,” he added, smiling down at me.

  Just like the first time I met him, time seemed to stop. The movie paused. He looked at my lips and I involuntarily licked them in anticipation, my eyes locked on his. I could feel his sweet breath on my cheek. I wanted him to kiss me. So badly. His lips looked soft and inviting, but he was hesitating; thinking. I wished I could read his mind because I could see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes were on mine, his brows slightly furrowed; he looked so intense and deep in thought.

  He finally broke eye contact and looked down. He placed his hands gently on each of my shoulders and bent down to gently kiss my forehead, then tucked his hands into his front jean pockets and took a step back. Whatever battle he’d been fighting in his head had been decided.

  He pressed his lips into a little smile, then looked down at me and whispered, “Goodbye, Julia.”

  “Goodbye, Ryan,” I whispered back. I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

  He turned around and slowly wa
lked away.

  The movie was no longer on pause, but rather moving in slow motion. I felt like I was in a dream. Did this night really happen? After one of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in my life, an extremely attractive man whom I had this amazing connection with, had just walked me to my car, kissed my forehead, and then said good bye. He didn’t turn around; he didn’t ask for my number; he didn’t say he wanted to see me again. What the hell?!

  To be fair, I didn’t say anything, either. Nor did I call out his name or ask why he just turned around and walked away.

  Why didn’t I say something?

  I knew exactly why. The wound was still too fresh. I wasn’t ready to put myself out there again. My heart felt like it was being squeezed and a deep sense of sadness overcame me.

  Maybe it’s totally true what they say about finding love when you least expect it, because I really didn’t see this one coming. I mean, talk about Ryan coming out of left field—that was an understatement. Not that it mattered; I didn’t even know his last name, so it was doubtful I’d ever see him again.

  Maybe life was all about taking or missing opportunities. I liked to believe that you created your own fate. I didn’t believe that it was this magical, unexplained thing that happened to you with no say or matter in the end result. I figured if there was a missed opportunity in life, it’s because I somehow willed that decision—I had only myself to blame.

  That didn’t stop me from thinking about Ryan and our surprising dinner together. I replayed the evening over and over in my head. I was perplexed by his behavior at the end of the night; I really thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me, but when he left me standing by my car without any mention of wanting to see me again, the reality of it was that I was relieved. My ego was too fragile to consider opening up my heart again for any new possibilities. Frankly, it was better that he walked away. I felt better wondering what could have been rather than risking more rejection and heartbreak. Even so, my mind was in conflict with my emotions. All I could think about was how I might be able to see him again—run into him at work, at Betty’s, maybe accidentally bump into his car …

  I couldn’t deny the chemistry that existed between us. I couldn’t recall ever having experienced the same initial connection and intensity level with any of my past boyfriends, but I didn’t have the emotional energy to get excited and disappointed again so soon. When it came to long-term relationships, I had discovered a reoccurring pattern. If I was in love with the guy, eventually he always ended up wanting someone else. History had a way of repeating itself.

  Case #1: Matt. During my senior year at the UW, I fell head over heels in love with Matt, a 4.0 Computer Science major. I’d always been attracted to very smart men. He was skinny and gawky and dressed in very loud prints, but he had the most angelic face and was always so eager to make me happy. I thought he was both brilliant and adorable. We couldn’t get enough of each other and the sex was fantastic. It surprised me that he was such a brilliant computer programmer and yet so good in bed. You had to wonder then about Bill Gates and other self-proclaimed geeks. You’d never expect to find those two qualities in the same person.

  Matt and I had the most intense relationship for six months. When summer came, he left to San Jose for an internship in the Silicon Valley. We both cried at the airport. Upon visiting him later that summer, he told me that he had met someone else. She was one of several co-interns working in the same department. One night they were giving backrubs and it went further than they planned or some crap. He wanted to satisfy his curiosity and see where it could go. He was sorry and wished me the best. Why he didn’t tell me this before I got on the plane to visit him in San Jose, I had no idea. I learned several years later that they had gotten married; his summer fling became the one.

  At the time, I was heartbroken over Matt. Though to be honest, I don’t think I loved him in the deep, truest sense. I think I was just overly dramatic because that’s what you do when you’re twenty-two years old. A bitter little seed was planted that summer. I vowed that I would never cheat on someone, ever. I would never make someone feel the way that Matt made me feel that summer night.

  Case #2: A couple years later, I met Jake. Jake wasn’t what I would call a long-term relationship. I only mention him now because he made me realize what kind of relationship I didn’t want. Jake was a good Christian boy, Engineering major, and a recent MBA graduate from the UW business school. He had just started a promising career at MS. He had dark brown hair, beautiful green eyes, and always furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t obviously good looking, but he had an intensity and soulfulness about him. I thought he was incredibly sexy, brooding, and intelligent. The most memorable thing about him was our amazing physical chemistry—every time I was with him, I thought I would combust into flames.

  He was twenty-nine at the time, I was twenty-five. Before meeting me, he had been dating this girl, Melissa, for a couple of years. They had met at the UW MBA program. On paper, they were perfect for each other. They had so much in common; both loved to bike ride, hike, enjoyed the same music and shared the same friends from grad school. After dating all through grad school, she was ready to marry him. Unfortunately for both of them, he didn’t feel any passion for her. She didn’t make his heart race or his skin tingle or his breath hitch. Then he met me.

  We met at church, innocently enough. I went to church quite regularly in my early twenties. Admittedly, part of it was an effort to meet men with similar values. I prayed to God to deliver me the perfect man who would support my professional ambitions, give me beautiful children, and of course, marry me. I thought Jake was the answer to my prayers. After all, I met him in the house of God, right? Ironically, Jake and I never actually had sex. We just did everything else you could do, but not “the deed.” I reached a whole new level of appreciation for oral sex and if that was any sign of what was to come, I was all for going all the way with him. Unfortunately, other than the great physical chemistry, we had very little in common.

  Poor Jake was torn. Did I mention he was the brooding type? He couldn’t seem to decide whether or not to choose Melissa over me. At the time, I was the much more exciting choice, but a less predictable alternative. Did he marry Melissa and have a relatively content life of good friendship and companionship? After all, weren’t the best marriages based on friendship? Or was he going to wait for that person who made his insides twist and clench, his heart beat so fast that it felt like it would explode out of his chest? Apparently, I was the latter. I started to feel more like his therapist than any sort of potential girlfriend.

  In the end, Jake chose the safety of friendship and companionship, but was that so bad? I concluded that it was, over time; maybe not for him, but certainly for me. I wanted more than that. I wanted the butterflies and the passion as much as I wanted the loving friendship and companionship. Shoot me, I wanted it all.

  Case #3: Andrew, with his classic American frat boy good looks. I met him at the UW business school and we hung out with many of the same friends. He had blue eyes, dimples, blond hair, and an athlete’s build. He grew up in Missoula, Montana, and was loyal to both his fraternity and family. We had been acquaintances for several years after college and one night, while a bunch of us were out for drinks at an Irish bar at the Pike Place Market, he spent the evening flirting with me. When it came time to leave, he didn’t have a ride home, so I offered to drive him. He invited me into his apartment and we proceeded to make out. I was twenty-six years old then. Three years later he broke by heart.

  Andrew was the first in our relationship to tell me he loved me. He had pursued me and I fell for his charm and looks. He was a Finance major and started working for one of those big global consulting firms right out of school. I was at MS as a Systems Analyst and both of our careers were taking off. On weekends, we met up with our group of friends and went to pubs, tailgated at Husky games, and celebrated birthdays and promotions at the trendiest Seattle restaurants. Andrew, me, and all of
our friends worked sixty plus hour weeks, went out for cocktails, double dated to the movies and held frequent house and dinner parties. Most of us had roommates, so we would hang out at each other’s apartments, get drunk often, and then Andrew and I would have sex. Often. We were perfect for each other, or so I thought.

  As we headed into our late twenties, things started to get more serious. We were no longer in entry level positions. Our friends started pairing off into those that dated since college and broke up, or those that got married. Since we were still together, by default we were heading in the direction of the latter group.

  In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been surprised. We were never that perfectly happy couple. It was a flawed relationship since the first break up, which was probably where it should’ve ended. We had broken up twice before the final one. The second time, he wanted a break and just didn’t think we were right for each other. A few months later, he was begging to have me take him back. He said he loved me, he missed me, and he started doing things like fixing my car and making sure my tires weren’t flat. I know now that getting back together with him then was a huge mistake. Neither of us was brave enough to let the other go. It was just easier to deny the truth and fall back into old patterns. Hindsight is 20:20 and all that.

  During that whole period, I’d been going to a lot of weddings. What started out as a fun relationship wasn’t so fun anymore. I was seriously wondering if Andrew was the one and whether or not marriage was in our future. If Andrew wasn’t the one, then I needed to make a decision soon. I was twenty-eight years old and my biological clock was ticking louder and louder. When we last got back together, I warned him that I’d had enough. If he wanted to leave one more time, that was it. This was his last chance. I loved him, but we weren’t going to do this to each other anymore. He still wanted to come back, so I took him back. I brought up the idea of marriage a couple of times, but he remained mostly silent during those discussions.