The Scientist: Second Dates & Science Textbooks (Part 1)

Smart Guys

 

We had had our first date on Thursday night and now it was Sunday and I was headed over to the Scientist‘s place for dinner.

I arrived right on time.  He opened the door, we hugged, and his wet hair pressed against my cheek.  He seemed a tad rushed, which was substantiated when he told me that his day had run long at the lab and so he hadn’t had a chance to actually cook anything yet.

No worries I said.  I wasn’t even that hungry yet.  He showed me around his place (which is smaller than mine, if that can even be possible) and then he presented the view, which was stunning.  He partially faced the “mountain” (mont-royal), as well as the stadium, and had a clear view over the city.  It was beautiful while it was still light out and then magical once it had gotten dark (did you know that there’s a huge lit up cross on Mont-Royal?  I had no idea but apparently there is, so much for Quebec’s new attempt to ban religious symbols eh?).

Unfortunately, unlike my balcony which is solid cement and at least feels sturdy, his balcony felt and looked like it was constructed for a 7th grade science project.   And before you think me a huge scaredy-cat of illogical reasoning, try to remember that this is Montreal after all, and you can’t trust anything here.  Corruption is real and infrastructure is terminal.  I mean, I’m still a scaredy cat, but like bear that in mind is all I’m saying.  Thus, while the view was cool and all, going out there was kind of terrifying and I don’t think he was impressed by my sensitivity to…ya know…dying.

We continued to talk for awhile, particularly about travel as his apartment had a large map and was decorated primarily by the knick knacks and souvenir trinkets he’d clearly picked up along his travels.  Eventually though, he had to make us dinner, so he told me to make myself comfortable and he’d finish it up.

I, of course, took that as an excellent sign to read his science textbooks (don’t worry, I asked first). 

 

During dinner we listened to jazz music and he dimmed the lights so we could look out over the city.  The food was simple yet delicious, though I only ate one of the tortilla/fajita things.  At first, I thought he’d made 4 and since I wasn’t all that hungry to begin with (nerves, probably) when he’d eaten 2 and offered me another I declined, assuring him it was delicious but that I was good.  Then I found out he’d made 6, but I couldn’t figure out if it would be weirder to not eat very much or to change my mind now, so I stuck with the former.  Then he offered me ice cream for dessert.  At first I responded with no, I’m fine but then I felt like such an asshole for turning down all his food that I said sure, I’ll take some.  I mean, I’m nothing if not a polite houseguest 😉

We talked some more about travelling, and he showed me this video of his trip to South Africa.  He told me a story of how him and his friend had been camping off the beaten trail in South Africa and a car had pulled up and the driver pulled a gun on them.  He asked if I’d ever had any close calls like that with danger and I struggled to answer.  No, not really I’d said and immediately I found myself ashamed of my lack of adventure.  But then I realized that it could be because I was a woman and thus, had a very keen sense of which situations are safe and which are not and would then never have put myself in that kind of danger.  But, it did make me want to travel more, to be more adventurous, to make this life really happen, ya know?

We sat on this weird super tiny couch that looked like it was covered in light blue velvet, him drinking a beer and me drinking water.  It was pretty typical second date stuff, the two people slowly moving closer and closer together, the kiss waiting in the wings.  But there’s still an awkwardness at this stage, there’s still an uncertainty as to whether affection is wanted, will be accepted.  And so I did my best to indicate that it was and would be, by facing him and just like that…we were kissing.  Well…kissing, and trying to not spill my water.

 

To Be Continued…

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Victoria Young

Writer. Dater. Masturbator. Don't worry my parents don't think I'm funny either. Grad Student. My breasts aren't ashamed of me either. You and me kid, we're going to change this world.