Tag Archives: math of love

Ms. Mac Lover

This story begins with the untimely demise of my iPod Touch.  It was an apocalyptic day.

But once I’d calmed down, I dragged myself out of my “deep depression” (aka chocolate-covered waffles) and booked myself an appointment at the Genius Bar.

For quite some time, my buddy, Andrew, has been encouraging me to go to the Apple Store to prowl for men and telling me that these fellow Mac-users would likely be great potential dates for me.

Andrew has a point.  Guy loves Macs.  I love Macs.  And we’d probably love each other!  Why?  Simple mathematics:

Let X = a saucy dame

Let Y = cute, bashful guy

Let ∑ = undying love for Apple products

Let Ω = a healthy dash of nerdiness

X + Y + ∑ + Ω = high potential for beautiful love story

The day of my appointment, I awoke with a spring in my step.  I put on my pretty face, put on some freshly laundered clothes, and made my way to the Apple Store.

As I approached the Genius Bar, I was overwhelmed by the collective nerdy hotness that was emanating from the Genii in their matching blue t-shirts.

I had found nerdvana.

When I was summoned to the counter — my heart fluttering with excitement — the greeter waved someone over and said, “Hey, I know you’re a computer guy, and she’s here for an iPod problem, but…”

As I was pulling my dead iPod out of my bag, I heard a deep voice say, “Oh, it’s no problem.  It’s all the same really.  I’ll take care of her.”

Thank god.  I couldn’t wait any longer to have my iPod fixed.  When I looked up, my eyes settled on the sexiest man-thing that I’d seen in a while.

It was as if the ultimate broad-shouldered fireman fantasy dressed himself up in nerd-chic glasses and an Apple Genius t-shirt…

Nerd-chic is so hot right now.

In other words, I placed my order with the universe, and the universe finally delivered it.

The glorious piece of nerd-candy reached his hand across the counter and said, “Hi, I’m Alexandre.”

Man-shopper’s brain – “Hubba hubba.”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “Euh…”

Man-shopper’s brain: “Say something witty!  Say something seductive!  Fuck it.  Say ANYTHING, dammit!”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “Hi.  I’m Helene.”

Man-shopper’s brain: “Nice going, nimrod.  Real Pulitzer material.”

Man-shopper’s mouth – (silently: Shut up, brain.)  “Thanks for seeing me even though you’re a technically a computer guy.  My iPod is very ill.”

Alexandre – “No, it’s my pleasure!”

Then he smiled.

And I swooned.

Thankfully, I managed to aim the swoon onto a stool.  It wasn’t graceful, but it was effective.

Apple Store, Paris

I took a couple of seconds to recover, and then proceeded to explain my iPod’s condition.  Alexandre verified that it was still under warranty, put his hand over mine (could he have felt my racing pulse, do you think??), and said, “No problem.  We’ve got you covered.  I’ll have a new iPod for you in a few minutes.”

I was head over heels.  Any man who gives me free Apple products is marriage material in my book.

I watched him as he searched around for my new iPod Touch.  The blue t-shirt was a snug fit on him, so I could admire the way his muscles as moved as he rummaged through drawers and opened boxes.  A few minutes later, he was handing me a new iPod and my receipt.

Man-shopper’s brain – “Oh no!  This means that our interaction is ending!  Quick, do something to prolong it!  FLIRT.”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “So that’s it?”

Man-shopper’s brain – “AAAAARGH.  You are such a dumbass.”

Alexandre – “Yes, it’s that easy!”  He smiled again.

Man-shopper’s brain – “Go on.  Ask him out, goddammit!  This is your chance!”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “Cool!  Thanks so much for your help, Alexandre.  Bye!”

Man-shopper’s brain: “You’re hopeless.”

Brain was absolutely right.  I let another dream-boat slip through my fingers because… well… I’m incompetent.  Right now, this is what my brain is saying:

“This Man-shopper fool is a waste of my good sense.  I need to find another body with a mouth that will actually listen to me.


I made another Genius Bar appointment for this week.  This time, Brain and I are going to have a serious strategy meeting before I go in there.


Filed under Misses

Mr. Almost There – Part 2

As some of you may recall, in my two-month anniversary post, my goal for March was to go on a second date.

And as of this week, I have finally broken my long string of first dates.  Mr. Almost There, the ONE decent date that I’ve had all year, asked me out for a second date!

And even though sparks didn’t exactly fly on our first date (he was a munchkin), I said yes so that I could give him a second chance to charm my pants off — a second chance to make me overcome my inability to be attracted to a munchkin man.

So this past Thursday night, and even though I had pulled out my flattest pair of shoes I was feeling optimistic…

The same jacket, I swear!

…until I saw him.

Mr. Almost There looked like the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.  (This is the second time that my date has resembled a character from Alice in Wonderland — see Mr. Cheshire Cat.  Perhaps my dating life is just one endless LSD trip…)

He was wearing that very jacket AND carrying an enormous umbrella with a wooden hooked handle.  What made it worse was the fact that the length of his umbrella was almost 3/4 of his height!

I had to take deep breaths to avoid laughing hysterically.  I almost gave myself the hiccups.

His legs were this short too...

It didn’t help that when he started walking, he looked like the Disney version of the White Rabbit —>

Absurdly funny, but definitely not sexy.

Especially considering that I was still taller than him in my flat shoes (again, I’m 5’3″, people).

But then it got worse.

On this second date, Mr. Almost There came across as a bit of a condescending prick.  He asked me where I went to university, and after I told him, he started acting like a patronizing ass-face.

He probably felt insecure about whether he measured up intellectually.  Either that or he thought that I’d be turned on by a man who antagonized me about everything from not putting accents in emails sent from my iPod (the thing doesn’t even do accents!) to being unable conjugate “promouvoir” in the subjunctive (dude, I know French people who can’t conjugate it in the present tense).

What an asstard.

Munchkinosis + asstardedness = zero chance of hanky-panky.

Basic mathematics.

His insecurities about our intellectual equality were well-founded after all… because he definitely didn’t understand that equation.

Going in for the kill?

Mr. Almost There somehow thought that our date was coming along swimmingly.  At the end of the night, as we were saying our goodbyes, he leaned in for the kill…

It’s times like this that I LOVE living in France — a country where la bise, the kiss planted on each cheek, is a perfectly polite greeting and parting salutation.

Even Obama knows la bise.

… so I deftly executed what I call the Mouth-to-Cheek Slide, my best post-date-kiss evasion tactic.  I round off the move with a full la bise and step back to admire my handiwork.

The look on his face was priceless.

Befuddlement, sheepishness, and irritation.

The best thing about all this: the condescending turd can never accuse me of being impolite!




Filed under Misters