Mauled By A Mad Scientist
There are two parts of my body that a person should hope to never encounter when they’re out on a date with me, 1) my right hook and b) my left knee. In my 36 1/2 years I've never had to bust out both of them until last Friday night.
As the result of a speed dating event I was matched with this guy who turned out to be a scientist. This was no ordinary run of the mill scientist either but a Harvard AND NASA scientist.
The speed dating event was advertised as such - meet 20 guys in 90 minutes (oh my). Do to a surplus of single people stranded in the city on a snowy Saturday night, there was more than enough to go around. I was conveniently stationed at the bar, each guy took a loop around the room, we got to spend 4-minutes making a lasting first impression on each before the the gong was hit and then they moved on to their next potential match.
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| No wonder Beaker always looked so frightened. |
The speed dating had gone into overtime, and by the end of the second hour I was exhausted, cranky and in dire need of nap. In other words, I was in rare "Stacey" form. That's when M21 saddled up to me. Our initial 4-minute conversation can only be explained as a stolen page from some long lost unemployed sitcom writer's script:
Me: Well, my face hurts. (Jiggle my glass) I could use another drink and an aspirin. So what do you do?
M21: I'm a scientist.
Me: (in a high pitched tone) Really? Like a mad scientist???
M21: (Chuckle) Not exactly, I'm a physiologist...
Me: So you don't spend all day in a dungeon coming up with evil potions? Or are you more like that Muppet scientist? Cause you kind look like him. (In case you're wondering, this is why I am single.)
My rare Stacey-ness somehow managed to score me a date with the "Mad Scientist." The date started out great. We met for dinner in the East Village at a Serbian restaurant. He charmed me with stories about his family's house in Portugal, his professorship in New Zealand, his numerous trips to Eastern Europe and his cross country trip to a scientists convention on his Harley. That was it, I was officially a geek lover!
From there we went to our second spot - a small German beer garden. All good. We're standing at this little side table and then it happens... His hand travels down the side of my body, stops on my rump and and he starts patting it. I do the nervous girl giggle and the not so subtle subtle right elbow shove and move his hand off. We play this tug of war a couple more times. It seems as if he couldn't complete a sentence without punctuating my ass.
Our third and final destination was a little 80s club across the street. In our brief commute over I made it very clear verbally that the ass grabbing was not appreciated. From that conversation, our genius deduced that he should step up his game. You would think that a physiologist would know that boobs are not detachable nor are they screw tops. That's when Shirley and Lefty made their first appearance together. I got up after that and went to the ladies room. When I returned the Mad Scientist was past out asleep. And this is why he's still single.
It was in that moment I realized a few things 1) crazy comes in all shapes and sizes, 2) having an education doesn’t make you smart and c) thankfully I know how to handle myself. I think alot about these girls who don't say anything and allow these guys to behave poorly or girls who tolerate this behavior so guys repeat it.
It doesn't matter if the guy is a scientist or a janitor at NASA, we're all beautiful, intelligent women who deserve to be treated appropriately and when we're not we're going to get mad.
[Just as this blog was going to post, the Mad Scientist texted another apology. My life truly is a sitcom.]
"Show me your tits!" Well, now that got your attention. It certainly got mine when I received it during a non-sexual text conversation. At first, I thought maybe I was not the intended recipient or maybe he meant tots? Nope, it was for me and had nothing to do with taters. 
