Page 1 of Built to Last

chapterone

Sadie

You know that romantic comedy where the super awkward journalist goes back to high school undercover as a student to try to get a feel for today's teenager? So, in that movie, there's an iconic scene where we’re back in the original time when the heroine was actually in high school. She was smart and nerdy, but also, painfully awkward. So painfully awkward that when the hottest boy in school asked her to the dance, she said yes. Gah, my stomach is knotting just thinking about it. I mean how could she be so dense? Surely, it was obvious to her that he was only setting her up for a cruel joke.

Yet, she missed all of those warning signs. See previous comment about her being painfully awkward. She got ready and wore a dress and stood on the front porch waiting for him to come and pick her up in a limo, which he did with all his friends. Who then proceeded to stand up through the moonroof and throw eggs at her.

This is the montage playing through my mind as I’m perusing the article on my monitor.

How to Get His Attention

(at the office!)

I was doing research because I have a crush on a co-worker, and he hasn’t seemed to notice me yet. At least not in that way. Sure, we interact professionally all the time, but he seems unaware of me as a woman.

And when I say crush, I really mean that we make a whole lot of sense as a couple. We’re both scientists and both have above average intelligence, so we’d never lack for things to talk about and if we did, then surely we’d be comfortable just quietly reading in the same room.

After a failed attempt (yet again) to get his attention in the break room, I came back to my office and went to the internet for assistance. Now, I know what you’re thinking, the internet is full of crap. And yes, I’d agree with you. But it’s also full of beautiful, socially capable people who know more than I do about these sorts of things.

You see, once upon a time, I was that nerdy high school girl. Just like in that movie, a cute, popular boy asked me to a dance and just like in the movie, I was too clueless to see what was right in front of me. (In my slight defense, I hadn’t yet seen that movie.)

We were supposed to meet at the dance, which we did. Then… let's just say somehow my dress got caught in the back of my pantyhose. The entire school saw my supersized yellow spotted underpants. Even those who weren’t at the dance, because my “date” recorded the whole thing and uploaded it to the school’s server.

I tried to convince my parents to let me homeschool for the rest of the year because frankly, I wasn't learning anything there anyways, but also because, you know, teenagers in general, pretty much suck. But my parents insisted that I stay in school because social skills are just as important. Spoiler alert, they're not just as important. But to my parents, who are both public school teachers, it was a non-negotiable.

Needless to say, I’m annoyed when the first thing that grabs my attention in the article is to dress to kill. In other words, get a makeover. You know, I don’t really have anything against makeovers per se, but I do have something against changing yourself just to get the attention of a potential mate. I mean was the Neanderthal woman dressed to the nines with the latest in fur fashion? I don’t think so. Yet her mate still likely clubbed her over the head and hauled her back to his cave.

The bottom line is, if I need to transform myself into some sort of mythical sex siren, then I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.

I mean, let’s be honest here, I have a Ph.D. in aquatic botany. That is not a sexy science. I might love it, but I’m not blind to the nature of my passion.

There’s nothing wrong with my life. I’ve got a great job at a prestigious lab, right in my home town of Corpus Christi, Texas. I’m working with a team of amazing scientists studying how kelp forests can remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, moderate ocean temperatures, and moderate ocean acidification. Basically, we’re going to use kelp forests to battle the climate crisis and save the planet. (Sounds a lot sexier now, doesn’t it?)

And in addition to having the perfect job and practically being a superhero, I have the best friends in the world. And I have a great house, complete with two adorable rescue cats. For the most part, I love my life.

But admittedly, now that I am the only one in my friend group left who remains unmarried and without kids, I do get lonely.

I’ll repeat that for those of you in the back, I am the last remaining single girl in my friend group. Because of this fact, the dynamics in said friend group have changed.

We still have our ladies’ brunch. Twice a month now instead of weekly. Though we don't always make it. Well, I always make it. But the rest of them don't always make it, between kids, ear infections, birthing classes, married date-night, etc. I just don’t have any of those things. I have my cats, so that means the occasional vet appointment, but in truth, I’ve never missed a brunch because of it.

I don’t fault my friends. I just want what they have. Sort of. Do I expect the big sweeping love they have? No. Certainly not. I am far too much of a realist to expect that a man is going to fall head over heels in love with me at this late stage. I just know that I definitely feel like something's missing.

I glance back at the article on the screen and something catches my eye.

Men want what other men want.

That’s a proven scientific fact. If you want to grab a man’s attention, you have to give him permission to find you attractive. That means you need him to see you with another man. Go ahead. Flirt and watch him turn green with envy.

I snort. Who writes this shit? I’d be willing to bet money there’s nothing proven or scientific about any of that. Um … hello random internet writer, may I please get links to the peer-reviewed articles in respected scientific journals? No?

Yeah. I didn’t think so.

Still, I have seen that particular concept work in the wild, so maybe--science or not--there’s something to it.

The brain rattling sound of an electric drill pulls me from my pondering. The noise is so out of place in my normally quiet office, it takes me a moment to identify its source, despite the fact that I’m the one who hired my friend, Finn, to build the custom shelving for my lab.

I stand to go tell Finn that he might need to wait for that particular task til when the building is less full, so as to not disturb the rest of the lab.

---