The bartender was someone I hadn’t seen before today: an absolutely beautiful girl in her mid-twenties, jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail, gold eyes and olive skin. Freckles dusted across her shoulders matched the ones across her nose.
I approached, and saw her reading my “Shrodinger’s Cat Is Dead” shirt.
“What does that mean?” She said.
“It’s a very nerdy physics joke,” I said.
“So it’s not being cruel to animals?” She said.
“Well, there’s a lot of Uncertainty about that,” I said.
I love Wil Wheaton :>
The story continues:
She frowned. “What?”
“That was also a very nerdy physics joke,” I said, and explained Shrodinger’s Cat to her.
” . . . so until you observe the results, the cat is both dead and alive,” I said. “Which, I’m sure, is just thrilling to you.”
She reached into the cooler and pulled a beer out of the bottom. Chunks of ice clung to the sides, and she wiped them off. As she opened it, she said, “Actually, I was listening to you because I think nerds are incredibly sexy.” She bit down on her lower lip.
I’m sure I blushed, and said, “Well, on behalf of nerds everywhere, I’d like to thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, as she set my bottle on the bar. I paid her and got the hell out of there before my wit and charm started writing checks my body couldn’t cash.
Moving on . . .
I just have to say…the running away, there? That was such a nerdy thing to do.