Engineering a Date

This one’s for Kevin…

So, return with us to those thrilling days of yesteryear–specifically to the Fall of 1984. As I had mentioned in my last article, I was in sad, sad shape. My crazy drunken wife had left me, I was totally socially inept while sober and I was lonely as hell.

However, by gosh and golly, I was not unarmed in the battle of the sexes. I was a trained engineer! There had to be an approach to the situation that could be devised using systems theory. All it would take would be some study, and I’d have it.

First of all, the reasons for my abject terror had to be analyzed. Inexperience in social systems was the main problem. In the past, I would start working on a pitcher of brew and my underlying Jedi Master powers would be unleased. I would use a few mind tricks, turn on the charm and the young lady in question would fall into my arms. The main problem in that case was merely remembering what her name was the next morning.

This was clearly unacceptible for obvious reasons. I decided that some research was in order. I staked out a section of the Illini Union where the coffee was flowing freely and observed the successful dating tactics of sober men. After a week or so, the evidence led me to the conclusion that the successful men were actually having conversations with the women in question.

Unfortunately, this presented a problem. Under normal circumstances, I could speak very well on any number of abstruse subjects–astro- and high-energy physics, gas chemistry and quality assurance all immediately came to mind. The problem that this presented was that the very small number of women who were working on my project were either already taken or gay.

Somewhere out there, there had to be something that was non-threatening, intricate enough that I could demonstrate my intelligence, and available for me to learn on my lunch hour, since I was working ten-hour days. Sports? Nah–too much competition from buff rugby players. Politics, religion? Nope–too controversial, and I’d get raving and they’d get scared right off.

Suddenly, it hit me: SOAP OPERAS. I knew that my mother liked them and that some women spent an inordinate amount of time watching them. Non-threatening, and fun–fit the bill completely. One of the bars on campus at the time had a projection television, so I walked over from Loomis Lab to Campustown at noon and sat down in front of it and watched the program that they tuned to every day–All My Children.

Well, within a week I began rushing to get there in time to get a good seat. By the end of three weeks, I was hopelessly hooked on the adventures of Tad and Jenny Martin, Erica Kane and the suave but evil Adam Chandler. Unfortunately, I had fallen into the program to the extent that I didn’t even notice the people around me (including women) while it was running. I moved from my original venue to Murphy’s, since the food there was better.

So, this brings us to the day after Thanksgiving ‘84. I had a pile of books in front of me (IAU Symposia, since I was working my way through the Astronomy portion of the Physics Library) and was standing and shouting at Tad Martin on the TV, who had been caught sleeping with both Liza Colby and her mother, Marion during the same weekend. It suddenly occurred to me that at the end of the bar, there was this cute blonde girl who also had a stack of books in front of her that was shouting at Tad, too and saying many of the same things that I was.

Hmmmm. Very interesting. First check for wedding ring. Crap. At least she’s not gay. Books are science-fiction and feminist-lit. Acceptible.

Oh, wait, I recognize her. She does the night shift at the Honky Hen (as we called the White Hen convenience store) across the street from the bar–11 to 7, as a matter of fact. Check–she’s used to weirdos. This is looking better and better.

I move closer and engage conversation circuits. We have a good laugh over the exploits of everyone’s favorite Soap Lothario. Early on, I determine that she’s been separated from her husband and is casually dating a guy. Bingo. Oh, damn, how do I analyze her personality?

Aha!!! “So, my brother is getting one of those new VCRs and we were going to get some movies over Thansgiving weekend. What five movies would you recommend that we pick up?”

Ice was broken and mission accomplished. Whew. When I returned from my trip up to the farm, I saw her in Murphy’s again the next Friday. We went to Papa Del’s Pizza and when the check came, she reached for it and said in a firm, feminist voice, “How dare you presume that you were going to pay for it!” I smiled wryly and replied, “How dare you presume that we’re not going to split it!” That was all it took. I walked her home and her tuxedo cat, Patience (named after a frontier Lesbian,) jumped onto my lap and began purring, even though she “never did that to anyone.” Her couch looked strangely familiar, and it turned out that she had met the woman who would become Elderwife at the gay coffeehouse in town and had gotten the couch from her.

Let us draw the curtain now on this romantic scene and just say that it has been a fine twenty-two plus years of cats, gender issues, books and hours watching Tad grow from a teenage seducer to a middle-aged grandfather. I guess this just goes to show that no matter how big a geek you are, there is always hope for you–if you understand how to approach a problem. Who knows, you might get an entire basket of kittens.

Tom