![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
resonantThis morning there was a guy in my coffee shop that I just could not take my eyes off of.
On the one hand, he had heavy glasses. He was dressed in baggy khaki pants, a baggy tweed jacket, and an orange T-shirt with something written on it. He was kind of large in the butt. He had an awkward forward-leaning walk. He was carrying a pile of about five library books. And he went out and came back in twice, as though he kept forgetting things.
On the other hand, he had that high-maintenance blond surfer haircut -- the one that makes you look as though you washed your hair, went out immediately without drying it, and spent twelve hours on the beach. And he had on one of those short leather necklaces with the shells, and a knotted hemp bracelet.
God, to my taste he was breathtaking.
See, I like pure geek; pure geek is attractive to me. Pure pretteh -- eh, I can take it or leave it. But geek mixed with pretteh? Irresistible.
There's a woman named Dixie in my writer's group who's a type you've seen a thousand times before -- a nurse, short and round, with close-cropped gray hair and one of those unbreakable watches, very matter-of-fact and plainspoken and practical. And then one day she showed up wearing flip-flops and a toe ring. I -- man.
Lucky for me, I married one of those. The spouse is a geek, but he's an Italian geek, which means that he's rumpled and bespectacled, but he has a fairly audacious fashion sense. So there he is, with his tie poking out the bottom of his jacket and highlighter marks on both hands, but he's wearing a soft shirt the color of raspberry sherbet and a tie with the text of the Rosetta Stone printed on it.
And, you know, unlike Dixie and the guy in the coffee shop, him I can kiss any time I want to.
On the one hand, he had heavy glasses. He was dressed in baggy khaki pants, a baggy tweed jacket, and an orange T-shirt with something written on it. He was kind of large in the butt. He had an awkward forward-leaning walk. He was carrying a pile of about five library books. And he went out and came back in twice, as though he kept forgetting things.
On the other hand, he had that high-maintenance blond surfer haircut -- the one that makes you look as though you washed your hair, went out immediately without drying it, and spent twelve hours on the beach. And he had on one of those short leather necklaces with the shells, and a knotted hemp bracelet.
God, to my taste he was breathtaking.
See, I like pure geek; pure geek is attractive to me. Pure pretteh -- eh, I can take it or leave it. But geek mixed with pretteh? Irresistible.
There's a woman named Dixie in my writer's group who's a type you've seen a thousand times before -- a nurse, short and round, with close-cropped gray hair and one of those unbreakable watches, very matter-of-fact and plainspoken and practical. And then one day she showed up wearing flip-flops and a toe ring. I -- man.
Lucky for me, I married one of those. The spouse is a geek, but he's an Italian geek, which means that he's rumpled and bespectacled, but he has a fairly audacious fashion sense. So there he is, with his tie poking out the bottom of his jacket and highlighter marks on both hands, but he's wearing a soft shirt the color of raspberry sherbet and a tie with the text of the Rosetta Stone printed on it.
And, you know, unlike Dixie and the guy in the coffee shop, him I can kiss any time I want to.