Zoe:I’m pleading the fifth on this conversation and changing the subject.
How was your first week at the new firm, miss junior associate? How’s New York?
Phoebe:Kind of crazy, I’ve been at the office non-stop since I got here. What are you up to?
Zoe:Got my mocha and on my way to class.
Trista:I miss our Thursday coffee dates; I miss you guys.
Phoebe:When you make it big as a photographer, you can work from anywhere you want, Hun.
Phoebe:Speaking of work, I got to get back to doing it.
Zoe:Yeah, I’m going into my lecture in a few minutes.
Trista:I’m texting you from the toilet. I ran away from the god-awful models “Garderobe” hired for this shoot; they may be the biggest online fashion magazine and all that, but they are poor judges of character. I can’t get these people to make a facial expression!
Zoe:You’ll figure it out Tris, you always do. Happy hour Skype date tomorrow? East coast time this week, right?
Phoebe:Yes! I need a drink after the week I’ve had, and I need to see your faces.
Trista:Ditto. Love you guys <3
I put my phone back in my bag, with a pang of sadness.
I’m happy for the girls, they’re chasing their dream careers and making a name for themselves, and it’s not the first time we’ve been apart. Throughout the years higher education had taken us to different parts of the country, in my case the world, but it always came with a deadline, a timestamp as to when we’d all be back together.
But now that we’re in our mid-twenties with long-term ambitions and goals, it all feels very permanent, and I’m lonely.
Trista’s always been easy with people, approachable and fun, she makes fast friends wherever she goes, and many of them end up being true friends who stay for the long run. Phoebe is more guarded as to who she lets in, but she’s the type of person who walks into a room and all heads turn, always surrounded by people and the center of attention.
I’m the invisible one. Not that I mind, I tend to lose myself in the crowd in large social settings. As a result, my social life has always been closely interwound with that of the girls, and now that they’re gone, I’m starting to realize that maybe it was a bit too thoroughly, to the point of dependency.
And though I love my academic career, excel in my field, and adore teaching, there’s a sense of stagnation in the romantic aspect of my life. One would even venture to say it’s comatose.
For as long as I can remember, guys have always been intimidated by my IQ. It was all fun and games until they realized I didn't just skip a grade or two—I was a legit genius with a Ph.D. in chemical physics from Harvard University. Guys my age, at least the ones I dated, struggled with the fact that, on paper, I was smarter than them, and my diploma was more impressive than theirs. Eventually, they couldn’t handle trying to prove they’re smart enough and said they just wanted to go back to dating “normal girls.”
Their words, not mine.
I mean, what does “normal girls” even mean? Trista and Phoebe aren’t geniuses and they out crazy me ninety-nine percent of the time!
So, I don’t even try anymore.
At one point I dated around a bit but never seemed to get past the second or third date. Not so often I'd meet a guy I liked well enough to use for scratching an itch, then I'd end it before anyone got too involved. None of them complained, never fought for me to stay, and I never asked them to. Then, eventually, it wasn’t worth the effort, so I just stopped altogether.
Now I’m all of twenty-five and have resigned myself to the simple fact that my type of smarts is just too intimidating for boys to handle.
I still sayboysbecause, deep down, I hope that somewhere out there is a guy man enough to see my brains as a turn on rather than a relationship kill switch, and more importantly seewhoI am and not just how smart I am.
Like my dad sees my mom. Given, my parents are divorced, but that was never about my mom's intellect, and I know for a fact they’re still madly in love and keep each other company often, even though they try to be sneaky about the latter.
I have to start taking chances, meeting new people, putting myself out there, or I’m going to end up pathetic and alone while everyone else around me moves on with their life. At the very least, I need to get laid.
I’m a few minutes early to reach my lecture hall, so I wait at the faculty entrance watching Professor Ned Thorne wrap up his engineering design class. He notices me standing there and gives me a grandfatherly wink.
Taking on the teaching gig at the community college was a whim. I saw a post about an opening and sent my resume on a spur of the moment decision. I felt like doing something crazy and untypical like applying for a job teaching night classes when it was obvious my schedule didn’t allow it.
Yes, that was crazy in my book, though even I realize it’s silly and downright sad.