Neurons Colliding - How to Tell if a Nerdy Chick Likes You

One of the best parts of being abroad is it forces you to isolate your little behaviors and idiosyncrasies and really takes a long look at them, which is about as painful as it sounds. In order to communicate something in another language you first have to think about how you would say it in English and what tone/mood/ feeling you want to relate. While I’m having enough trouble just asking Paquita where she keeps the toilet paper, I also have to navigate the tricky Spanish university social system, which is basically the exact opposite of the culture at Marist. There are almost no extracurriculars you can lean on to meet new people/forget about your lack of social skills. And the kids in my classes already have their friends and it’s generally not culturally “normal” to talk to strangers. You can ask them a question and they will answer completely and politely, but, at least for me it hasn’t lead to much more. Usually, I scrape up something witty or universally relatable to keep things going with a new aquaintance but the Spanish cut to the chase. How have I survived without my edgy, inane, New Yorker banter?

When you are single and planning to go abroad, everyone tells you “ U gOnNa mEeT sO mAnY sPaNiSh hOtTiEs” and magically a lifetime of romantic mishaps will disappear and you will have the tios buying you tapas left and right. It’s a very nice idea that was very nicely enforced by Vicky Cristina Barcelona, but once I arrived, I quickly dropped that illusion and decided that this experience was about me and not rando Spanish dudes. It’s all scary enough without having to worry about getting hurt or contracting some type of SDTD ( Spainish Discoteca Transmitted Disease). But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped appreciating what’s right in front of me. As I said, there is a very mysterious, very attractive Colombian guy that sits next to me every day in music class- he has that scruffy hippie thing going that I like. I was very confused the first day he sat down next to me and asked my name. Huh? Was someone actually speaking to me of their own accord? Was this person considered attractive by the general public? Weird. The next day, I figured we’d move on to talking about the weather or the syllabus, but he was silent – and so was I. The next few weeks continued in the same way – we didn’t talk, even though I tried to put some effort into my appearance those days.

When I finally said to myself “whatever,” I used the extra time I wasn’t spending on my appearance to geek out on my laptop before class. Who taps me on the shoulder and starts chattering away but mysterious Latin hippie. He was cracking jokes, agreeing with me, asking follow-up questions, etc. I had no idea what was going on. We chatted amicably through the end of class and at the end, he suggested that we exchange numbers. Gulp. This was maybe the 2nd time in my life a guy had asked for my number- and the 1st was one of my more embarrassing moments of recent history. When I say the 2nd time, I mean in a social situation. Usually when guys ask for my number they missed class and need the notes. I gave him my number and he tried to call it, but alas he had no money on his phone – bad omen #1. So he decided to give me his. It was at that moment that I realized I was sweating and my knees were knocking and I no longer understood Spanish. Why was this happening? I know nothing about this guy, have absolutely nothing invested in him, and he wears a fanny pack ( ok ok I know that a fanny pack is a dealbreaker, but at the time I was trying to play it off as a cultural nuance that I didn’t understand). He repeated his number a few times, but my hands were shaking and I couldn’t enter it in my phone, so he mercifully took it and did it himself. God, this gets more tragic every time I recount it. He went off and that was that. He didn’t call me. I didn’t call him. We still chit chat from time to time but that’s the extent of it. So for all of you who were wondering about my love life here – there it is.

So all of this has led me to examine how I interact with guys that I am interested in/are interested in me( from what little I can discern), which as I’m finding out more and more, is a little non sensical. Although I KNOW I’m not the only girl who thinks along these lines. I’d say I’m less of a Rubik’s cube and more a “Chamber of Secrets” – (save your snickers, judgment, and sexual innuendo for later). I’ve set up a bunch of puzzles and traps to keep people out or let them reach a certain point and then let them get eaten by Fluffy the 3 headed dog. So as an exercise for myself and a case study for the general public, I present the process of attraction, as seen through my bespectacled eyes.

If I Think Someone is Attractive

1. I wonder where his girlfriend is.

2. Oh, I see her. She just bought a Fruit and Yogurt cup and diet iced tea from the cab.

3. I should probably go finish the last season of Arrested Development while I devour this chicken parm.

I’d say about 40% of the time – things end there. Thanks Marist male to female ratio.

Let’s say for some reason this person is unattached. I usually find an extraneous reason not to like him/ think he is the scum of the earth (he spelled you’re/your wrong or under his favorite book section on facebook he wrote – who reads?) or I simply get lazy and stop caring. When you are used to your life a certain way, it’s hard to convince yourself that a change could be for the best. Even though I can’t say I’ve put in tremendous efforts as of late, my lack of success in high school still follows me around sometimes and reminds me of the insecure mess I used to be, and suddenly I feel inadequate.

If by some strange chance, he passes the grammar gauntlet and hasn’t done anything offensive (ex. Wear a Nickelback concert T or refused to use the recycling bin). I might be ready to admit that I actually like this person. Especially if we have good banter going- gosh I love a good good banter. Friends, boyfriends, teachers, acquaintances, political candidates- I don’t care who you are – if we don’t have an established set of banter topics, we’re on a one way train to nowhere. Keep in mind that this process could take weeks or months.

Now most girls have some type of sure fire method they use to get a guy’s attention. Giggle. Hairflip. Going to his game Laughing at things that aren’t funny. I don’t know what this kid’s do these days. I have little to no flirting skills – usually because I fear that they would come off as disingenuous because I can’t pull it off. Despite it all, I really believe that there are people out there that find authenticity attractive. Nothing is sexier than someone who cares about what’s going on in the world, has an opinion, and is brave enough to talk about it, as well as people that are willing to be open about their quirks and imperfections, instead of acting like they don’t exist. I like people that are obsessed with something ( in a good, normal, non-psychotic way) –whether that’s hiking, Civil War maps, or 90’s music.

So I flex my personality muscles, because I believe I’m different because of who I am, not what I look like (usually disheveled). I’ve got time. Some of my other latest flirting go tos include flaunting my knowledge of YouTube sensations, playing Super Smash brothers/ Halo, talking about recent issues of TIME magazine, sending witty text messages, discussing agricultural policy, bragging about my Free Cell winning streak, debating Biggie vs Tupac, wearing my best cardigan, etc. All things that I genuinely like but hard to transition into any romantic anything. It’s just enough to feel like I’m trying but not enough for any guy to really think twice about it; because these aren’t as much flirting techniques as normal everyday friend activity. The number one rule of Dating for Emilys is NEVER do anything that would give the guy and obvious clue aka make a move physically or tell him. This is all about tension, build- up, confusion, and inklings. You know, the fun stuff

Ok let’s say this poor soul is showing interest in me. Now it’s really time to panic. Launch the escape pods, sound the alarm, this is not a test. Shit. What now? I’m not programmed to go past this point. In the past I’ve followed this game plan:

1. Panic.

2. Ask my housemates for advice.

3. Panic.

4. Imagine fantastic future disaster that could result from this/any relationship, for example, I end up pregnant, addicted to drugs, and living by the railroad tracks.

5. Ignore said situation and said person until everything goes away aka act like an asexual cyborg

In a nutshell, if I’ve I liked someone and there’s the slightest glimmer of possible reciprocation I’ve usually panicked and ruined things for myself. I like when people don’t like me or are too tangled up to do anything about it. It’s safe and I know what’s going to happen next. There have been a few brief, sun drenched moments when my guard was down and things felt right and I took a few itsy bitsy risks. I go back to those memories when I think about how I would like to be when I return.

Although I have had experiences and enjoyed a level of independence that I would never trade, I wonder what life is like on the other side of the bubble. My sister has been in the same very functional relationship for more than 3 years and is just as happy and independent as I am, although in a different way, and I have no concept of what that is like. There are reasons why people write so many love songs and sonnets and cross continents for love and lust. I believe that it is all as wonderful as it is made out to be – but falling in love with life and with my friends and with myself have been equally wonderful and I’m content taking things as they come and letting people, including men, into my world a little bit more. For the time being, I have convinced myself that I am a beautiful, funny, intelligent person and maybe I won’t be freaked out if someone else thinks so too.

This blog isn’t filled with subliminal messages that someone is supposed to receive and suddenly realize that I’ve loved them all my life. I’m just trying my best to be brutally honest with myself and when I share it with the blogosphere, it helps to soften the blow. It’s meant to remind me that other people might be just as freaked out as I am and that I should be patient with them, as I have been with myself. And it is a helpful nudge for guys who find themselves interested in a slightly nerdy and fiercely independent girl ( if you need to know where to find one, holler at me - I know oodles). Let her feel smart and funny and beautiful, but be patient. Take her cues or seeming lack there of – there will be a moment when she lets you in.