Someone from the other 99.99%

Cobb salad is a dish best served... well, never, but it is the only option on the menu that might suggest that I'm health-conscious. At least this is what I read about a year ago in a Cosmopolitan article about first date orders that my ex-girlfriend forgot at my place after she broke up with me. I meant to look into it when I was freshly wounded and deeply hurt, in the hope of learning one thing or two about women. But all I found was sugar coated bullshit lies in made-up topics. Still up to this day I don’t understand why women read magazines like that. Shitty advice from deeply insecure but somehow very opinionated women who are disappointed in love. I mean, the article suggested soup order on the first date means the guy must be above sixty. And that steak is the ultimate sign of someone who is definitely a hedonist. And that mac and cheese with apple juice stands for guys who are stuck at a mental level of an eight-year old… well, that one I actually understand, but still. All about insincere and biased judgments I don’t care about hearing at all. 

I’m kind of angry about that article messing with my head so bad, anytime I sit in a restaurant, perusing the menu makes me super nervous. Not that I have a lot of first dates. Sometimes I wonder if we men have the equivalent of it. We might not be better when running to Reddit with every little thing that crosses our minds. Three weeks into the break-up and I was practically living on Reddit, discussing red flags with strangers. And even though by now I more or less successfully learned how to filter out trolls, I’m in doubt if I made the right choice choosing this venue for our meetup. I researched restaurant reviews for at least half an hour to decide what type is best for a first date and I settled with this one. I just need something not too fancy, that doesn't involve a lot of dressing up, but reasonable and modest enough to show that I care without putting too much effort in it. 

I mean it's just a first date and not an anniversary. Too bad I can’t imagine this place full of ornamental plants crawling in my heart that I would long back here after being together with someone for ten years. But what am I thinking about anniversaries already, sweet baby Jesus… Though going on a date is the ultimate purpose of this whole swipe-talk-meet thingy I’m not really a fan of, I really should just focus on having a good time and enjoy the food. Don’t be foolish. Just stay put. Chill. Don't get obsessive, don't forget that we often project a fake version of ourselves online. Whatever happens, it doesn't matter how good it seems to be, she might have surprises for me. Yes, I registered in the app and then swiped right, and so did she but there are up to 1.5 billion swipes every single day, so I really need to keep a cool head and carry on with realistic expectations. Even her profile said ‘looked better in photos’ which kinda had me already because I genuinely like people with self-deprecating humor, but it also could be just a sign of plain truthfulness.

Oh, here she comes… and wow, she looks gorgeous.

   "Thank God I made it on time, I missed at least two taxis," she laughs while taking off her coat and puts to the chair but then freezes for a moment to think aloud, "do physicists ever say Thank God?"

   "We do, actually, it's a very common phrase," I reply laughing. I like how funny she is in real life, too.

   "Good," she states with a warm smile and I’m glad her focus shifts to the menu because my heart is racing at lightspeed. I can feel my armpits start to sweat.

   "So I must say, I arrived with great hopes..." I say but she gives me a startled look and seems worried for a second about what I'm gonna say so I finish my sentence differently than originally intended, "that the food won't be terrible."

Her eyes are a mixture of relief and angst and she nods in agreement with a low-key smile so I rather keep it to myself that I have great hopes to meet her. Her, who earlier said to me that the horoscope is a bullshit business only created to mislead superstitious women who are easy to influence. Which she clearly isn't. Finally, a somewhat rational girl.

   "So what type of physicist are you exactly?" she asks after we order from the prettiest waitress I’d probably ever seen and yet who is nowhere compared to this lady sitting in front of me. Why did I have to try a new deodorant this morning, of all mornings? The rivers under my armpits deeply betray me.

   "I'm an environmental physicist."

   "Does it mean that you would shout at random people on the street if they threw the plastic bottle to a public trash can instead of a selective container?" 

I laugh out loud about how deadpan she delivers the joke but she looks at me puzzled... Has she meant it seriously? Wasn't it one of her witty jokes I got used to in the past two weeks? Her expression is hard to read.

   "Well that, yes. Other times I apply physical principles to environmental problems. I work on creating new product materials that are better for the environment."

   "Oh..."

   "I research a lot. On all kinds of stuff." I quickly add because she seems confused even more than before. 

I quickly change the topic when we receive our cocktails and ask whether or not she had acceptable Tinder dates before or how many of them she had, but she dodges a lot of questions which is a bit odd. She must have sensed her behavior because after about ten minutes of chatting she eases up a bit and tells me about this guy who was acting awful with her and was demeaning in every aspect. She tells all about him over dinner. How it ended with her telling him 'I'll be honest. I know what I need in a man, and you don't have it' which I find a truly terrible thing to say to anyone but if he was really an awful perv as she tells then I think I'm fine with it. And then four days later when she ordered pizza for dinner from a new place, this same guy was delivering it and it was a very awkward encounter ending with her tipping the guy way too much.

And then she asks me about what I research, but she still seems awkward listening to it so I see it better to throw in instead some Tinder facts I've read. Like an average guy gets around 14% of matches on Tinder which I say based off of different articles I've read - some claim higher and some claim a little lower number but that seems to be the average. And then I mention how Tinder is full of fake dating profiles and that there's bots and it can ruin the whole user experience.

   "I was insecure for a moment if you're a Scam Bot, too," she mentions casually which normally I would find slightly offensive but her eyes beamed something that is a mixture of honestly having a good time and an effective Manhattan cocktail. "That reminds me, have you seen the movie Her? It's great, you should watch it."

I actually did like that movie so I just decided I couldn't be mad at her and anyway she seemed more curious instead of accusing or mocking me. She then explains that she only thought that I was a bot because I don’t use any emojis in my texts. I think it's a fair point, I take it. 

The food was tasty, the place's atmosphere is actually cozy and started to grow on me even though I promised myself it never will. She's really witty and beautiful which is such a rare combination. 

   "So what do you do for a living? I don't think you mentioned it,” I ask while we wait for dessert. 

   "Oh, right,” she whisks with a silly smile. “I'm a kinesiologist. Applied kinesiology... Are you familiar with Touch for Health?"

The what now? "No, I am not." 

I can feel my eyebrows crossing. I try to focus on sipping what’s left from my drink and hide my confusion behind it. Applied kinesiology?! But how? Why? What? I totally zone out for a couple of minutes in agony only to realize she's already talking about it enthusiastically, so I catch her words only mid-sentence and out of context.

   "...try to help the body's self-healing processes work using meridian therapies. So this is basically the principle of energy balance. See? I'm kind of a physicist myself, too!" She claims proudly as if she was bragging and I'm still devastated by my new discovery about her. But I cannot just sit in silence so I do what I always do when I’m befuddled. I try to reason.

   "If I understand correctly, what I already know about kinesiology is that generally there are no exact measurements. Thus, you base your normal and abnormal levels of muscle tension, and ultimately the effectiveness of your therapy, solely on your own subjective opinion. Is that really so?" I softened the end of my question when she gave me googly eyes, because I really try to be understanding instead of being  judgemental.

She gives no answer but her floored look is a dead giveaway of how uncomfortable she must be feeling right now.

And I'm still shocked. 

Then the desserts arrive. We both stare at them embarrassed and puzzled. 

All I can think of is my late uncle who was a great physicist and a role model to me and who always said 'since light travels faster than sound, people may appear bright until you hear them speak.' Bummer.

   "Well," she starts poking her pudding with a fork, "it's not just about the internal energy flow of the body... We are all surrounded by an energy field, too, an aura that can be felt beyond the boundaries of our skin. And this is called fine energy..."

Ay woman, please don't overdo this, cries my inner self but I manage to listen to her in silence. So she continues. I can feel my armpits’ rivers slowly drying up.

   "It makes me uncomfortable to talk about this now that you clearly raised your concerns. I thought we could talk about physics and similar stuff."

Similar stuff?! "It's not physics", I point out in a measured tone. "You see, kinesiology has never been able to convincingly prove the effectiveness of its techniques, so basically it belongs to pseudo-science."

   "Okay, but people have the ability to heal through the innate intelligence of human tissue. This ability is at our disposal, it's there in our hands and brains. It is a natural heritage, we just have to let it work and heal. It's a real blessing to man, to all of us." She tries to convince me with no luck.

   "Can I ask something?" I fiddle with my glass, not looking at her.

   "Sure." She replies with hope in her voice but I'm a bit hesitant to ask.

  "Was your question earlier about recycling plastic bottles a joke, or do you really think that's what environmental physicists do?"

   "Does it matter at all?" 

   Yes. "No."

   "It was a little both," she gives me a face and murmurs barely audible, she clearly is embarrassed and yet somehow bored at the same time.

I drag my hand down on my face. Coming here was clearly a mistake. Registering on Tinder was clearly a mistake. First thing arriving home will be to delete this app or at least deactivate my account for a time. I should have known better. 

   "Are you interested in another piece of statistical fun fact?" I offer, leaning a bit over the table, my hands resting on my thighs. 

   "Sure, why not." She sighs resignedly and finishes up her pudding. She obviously let this go, too.

   "Regardless of specialty," I'm grinding my throat, "most physicists do many of the same things, like use complex calculations and computer models to analyze data. We use math, too, very often for everything," I stand up and start to get on my coat. "Even in our non-worklife. Mathematical estimates indicate that our chances of finding our soul mate is only 1 in 10,000. Only 0.01% chance." I shake my head disappointedly and push my chair back to its place. "Now I'm gonna leave this money for the dinner and for a taxi but I better be leaving now, I'm sorry. And... I'm sorry." I repeat as I’m not quite sure how much deeper I want to go in, anyway. I really need to leave now before I turn into an asshole by saying something rude. I don’t want to offend her, it’s not her fault I had my expectations too high. 

She nods with a bittersweet smile while stirring her second Manhattan cocktail and without looking up on me all she says is another witty comment.

   "You're really dedicated to the environment, huh? You run away so quickly that you leave no footprint."

I give a little laugh but it is humorless. It’s clearly a match made in another heaven.