When Nerds Attempt to Hook Up

I know several people who met their significant others at a work-related conference. I suppose this makes sense, given that the conditions are ideal for a hook-up. You're at a hotel already. You get to meet people with similar interests as you do, and everyone is dressed up and looking nice. And after or in between all the conferencing stuff, every social and networking occasion involves alcohol. And you're there for only a few days, so you'd might as well have a little fun while you're working.

However, in regards to academic conferences, which are the only conferences I've been to, I find it hard to believe that much hooking up happens. Quite frankly, I rarely see anyone remotely fuckable at academic conferences. Professors are largely former speech and debate geeks and academic decathletes (no joke), so one can only imagine what kind of a meat market academic conferences might be.

At a recent conference I attended, I did manage to meet someone with hook-up potential. He wasn't a professor or a graduate student, but worked as a program coordinator at an institution that works in historical preservation. I'll just refer to him as Sriracha. Because I only remember that his name started with an S. And, well, because he was hot. Anyway, I met Sriracha with a group of graduate students who were having dinner and drinks at the end of the first day of the conference. As the night progressed, we got drunk, danced, flirted, and eventually found ourselves back at the hotel.

Now, I'm not one to do the one-night-stand thing, even in my drunkest and flirtiest state. So I was pretty careful about setting my boundaries and keeping things light. Sriracha, however, definitely wanted sex. A part of me was definitely tempted to throw caution to the wind and sleep with the guy. But then, the dude suddenly transformed into a pubescent boy. After going in for a kiss, he started talking like Screech from Saved By the Bell and exclaimed, "Woah, what happened there?" And then he told me he wanted to see my "boobies, " after which I burst out laughing and told him I had to call it a night. Any desire on my part to hook-up fizzled. I didn't see the guy again for the rest of the conference.

Anyway, because the academic world is absurdly small, it turns out that Sriracha knows a good friend of mine, who worked at the same institution he works for. She was quite shocked when I told her about our little almost-hook-up, because the dude is engaged to be married. And apparently, his fiancee is absolutely gorgeous. My friend is also very disappointed the fact that Sriracha would cheat on his fiancee, because he seems to be such a decent, intelligent, put-together guy.

I suppose I should be insulted by the fact that this guy was putting me in the position of Bombshell McGee, Divine Brown, or the however many women Tiger Woods managed to have affairs with. But mostly I just think the whole scenario is absurd. I'll bet Sriracha regularly has one night stands with women whenever he goes to conferences. Had he not chosen to make me his target, I'm sure he would have found someone else that night. He may have had a different woman each night he was at the conference. I think this might be the case for a lot of men in academia, especially in the humanities, where men are the distinct minority. Sriracha, who's attractive, but really is only a normal-looking dude in the normal world, must easily catch the attention of academic women, who either don't get to meet very many men at all or only meet friggin' weird and awkward men. (Again, academics really are just a bunch of nerds.) I've seen it time and again-- Guys who are really unexceptional-looking or even downright ugly getting way more ass than one would think they'd be able to get, or snagging women way out of their league and then cheating on them. I really don't get this behavior.

Jerks exist everywhere in and in all forms, of course. But put a guy in an environment where he feels entitled to be greedy, even the biggest nerd can be a playboy.

Open Letter

Dear Econ Grad Student With Whom I Went On Two Really Awkward Dates About a Million Years Ago,

I'm very flattered that you still remember me and my name, because, quite frankly, I would not have recognized you had you sat next to me at the bar. And it's very cool of you to come up and talk to me, however briefly. That's way cooler than the friggin' owner of the bar, whom I had also dated about half a million years ago, who likes to pretend that he doesn't know me, even though I've patronized his establishment regularly for the past 8 years. Thank you, too, for offering to buy me a drink. Had I not already been drinking for much of the night, I would have accepted the offer.

But my saying, "Thanks, but I've already had a few beers tonight" doesn't necessarily mean that you need to cut the conversation short and just scamper off. You could have said, "How about I get you a Coke, then?" Or just continued chatting with me while I sipped at my glass of water. You could reciprocate my question of, "So, have you finished your degree?" with that very same question. Instead, you chose to randomly tell me that you spent some time in China (Was I supposed to be impressed by that fact? Because I'm Chinese and you're white?), and then ended the conversation without asking me what I've been up to. The fact that you then ran away with your tail between your legs only reminds me of why each of our two dates was really friggin' awkward, and why I was relieved when you didn't come around asking for a third.

What is up with dudes like you and the complete lack of follow-through? If you want to talk to me, just talk to me. If you want to buy me a drink, go ahead and do so. If you want to ask me out, just ask. Unless you're a major creeper (like the dude who introduced himself to me by saying, "I'm a pharmacist; What type of birth control are you on?"), I generally won't bite your head off or give you the cold shoulder. I will be my usual friendly, conversational self, as I believe I was with you tonight. I may decline your offer should you ask me out, but that's a risk that we all take, right? Grow some huevos and just take it.

I suppose it doesn't really matter that you totally punked out, given that I had already decided a million years ago that I didn't want to date you or even be friends. But you just reminded me of why I find meeting people so frustratingly exhausting. I cannot tell you how many times I've encountered guys who would initiate and then suddenly veer off course. I used to think that there must have been something wrong with me, that I was suddenly off-putting, that I smelled bad and didn't know it, that I was like that woman from that one episode of Seinfeld who suddenly looked ugly in a shift of lighting. But now, I really don't think that's the case. I'm fucking charming. And always polite. I have impeccable hygiene. So I have to assume that when guys who talk to me run away as if I were the plague, there's something wrong with them.

And you know, I'd might as well apply that assumption to men whom I actually do end up dating. Because the follow-through is key there as well. I've been dumped by a guy who decided after one year into our relationship that he "wasn't sure" if he was ever in love with me. I've been dumped by a guy who acted as though he couldn't get enough of me and then never talked to me again, not even to say "Thanks" when I sent him an email wishing him a happy birthday. I don't walk into every relationship believing that it will end in "happily ever after," but I do think that people should own their choices and actions. When I say that I want a follow-through, I mean that I simply don't want a relationship to end with a "WTF?" It is possible to break up with someone without making them feel as though the whole relationship was a lie. And it is possible, and even comforting, to convey to someone that you care about them even after the relationship is over. Certainly, taking off like a bat out of hell may seem to be the less messy of alternatives. But it also makes you a spastic asshole.

But I digress. What I meant to say was simply this: Thank you for validating my M.O., which is to no longer suffer wishy-washy boys kindly. I want and deserve a man who knows what he wants, and who knows that he wants me.

Best,

Me