Sometimes you feel like a nut.

Up until two nights ago, I feverishly hid the cover of Twilight and New Moon as I was reading each. On the train, the plane, the beaches of St Thomas, and on lunch breaks. When I closed the book, it immediately went under my arm to cover all traces of black and red flaunted on the front cover. I finally admitted to myself that I had an obsession for the series, but that didn’t mean I wanted the rest of the mature world in on my secret.

That is, until…

I went out with a man who was so smart that he was actually boring. I never thought the intelligence of a man would turn me off but alas it has. He was a law enforcer who mentioned (twice in an hour and a half) the 1000 books at his apartment – all of which were probably philosophy and law related. I shy away from people who are heavily into politics because I am not. When interviewed on the street by a television reporter for MTV about the democratic presidential debates (on the night before) I was speechless. I had been so busy working and commuting I didn’t get to watch it. I wanted to, the thought was there- but so was my bed and my pillow and, well, I voted for the down comforter. I’m not proud of it, but I did have to pay for it in the end. He kept the questions coming and after helpless blank stare after blank stare he threw me a bone. He wanted to know how I thought Obama would win over Hillary’s supporters as many voters were on the verge of crossing party lines. A quick learner, he didn’t wait for silence, he immediately brought it down to my level by retorting to using names maybe I was more familiar with. (face reddens) He answered his own question by suggesting that maybe Obama follow John Mayer’s lead by sending Hillary, Jenn Aniston, a muffin basket. (John and Jenn were on the rocks again during that time.) The analogy barely helped, I was too camera shy/shocked to even chuckle. I still pray every night that session didn’t aired. I don’t know what I was thinking- there was a camera, a tall beautiful black man holding a microphone and beckoning me over to his space. So I went. Big mistake.

So the other night, after learning more about my… god I can’t say it. I won’t say the four letter d-word! ... company for the evening… I did everything in my power, and with a new found pleasure, to make him think I was theeeee stupidest woman ever. I didn’t like him that much that I was willing to throw away all my feminist notions and feign the portrayal of a female that in no way resembles myself. 

I took him to K-mart as we waited for my train to rescue me home. I figured he’d hate the evil corporation that it stood for, but he said nothing and followed me around like a lost puppy. We hate that. Don’t follow us. The camping gear got boring so I moved over to the toys. “Let’s go steal toys from the little kids and make them cry.” No hint of amusement flickered across his face. The toy shelves were in disarray, everything on the floor. But the one display that was perfectly intack was the stuffed bears that sing those terribly annoying Christmas carols. I remembered him saying he didn’t like loudness, or loud people. PERRRFECT! I went over looking for which paw to press to bring him to life. Lower right paw, “press here.” My obedience was rewarded as the sweetest most screechiest sound came to my ears. And to my delight, he danced too! Even better, but still not enough. The other 5 bears and the one lizard wanted to join in on the chorus. One by one I pressed their paws to bring in the first and second sopranos, the alto, tenor and finally the bass. All last-minute-shopper-eyes were on us as I conducted the stuffed animal choir in 6/8. I swayed with them as they danced. My company just stared, again expressionless.

“You hated that didn’t you?” I asked hopefully, an evil smile lighting up face as we walked away. There were no standing ovations or pleas for an encore. He said something smart, using too many words when he could've just said "No." and meant the same thing. Damn it! He didn’t hate me enough. And even though I only allotted 1.5 hours of time together (keeping it short on purpose) there was still more time until my train. 

Last resort. 

There was a Borders just above the train station. I was intent on showing him how opposite we were and how there was no point in him even trying to contact me again. This is not to say that I wasn't going to continue to have so fun with this, I mean I was there- I may as well have. To continue the plan for sabotage, we went through the store and I pointed out all of the books I had recently read. I hoped he would frown upon them as they were not nearly as intellectual as his palette for literature called for. “Eat Pray Love – read that! Looooooved it.” I said. He picked up a copy of Skinny Bitch and scrunched his nose. “Have you read this one?” he asked. “Nah, I don’t need to read that. I already am a skinny bitch.” Emphasis on the ba-itch. No reaction. Did he not hear me??

This wasn’t as easy as I had hoped.

My (last) last resort. “OK, so I’m kinda embarrassed to admit this- but I’m really into the Twilight series.” No reaction. “The vampire series.” Not even disgust. “…About a teenage girl who falls madly in love with a teenage vampire.” Can I get at least a smirk to let me know I’m successfully sabotaging the night? “It’s 500 pages but the type is thiiiiiiis big!” I spread my thumb and pointer finger as far apart as my bones would stretch. Still nothing. We passed the science fiction, the thriller and mystery sections. It was nowhere to be found. “Maybe we should go look in the children’s section. It was there last time… hhmmm.” I thought this would kill him, as a man who refused to speak in the vernacular. Come on, I was reading the cheesiest books out there and he used words like “shall” on FaceBook chat.  Colloquial language was beneath him? First clue Jacquii. The first time I had met him he was interesting. So, we gave it a try. Shudder. It happens.  I like nutty guys, ones that go against the grain- but he didn’t quite fit my mold of nutty- as it doesn’t exclude personality or fondness for pop culture but does forbid creepiness and extreme intelligence. Seems there’s always a fine line between the two.

He had never even heard of it. Note to self: only hang with people who are aware of the latest blockbuster movie, and book series that’s taking the world over by storm. This way, at least you can dumb down if need be. In hindsight, since that didn't work I could’ve just told him about the muffin basket story. Perhaps that would’ve kept him from saying inappropriate things about what he wanted to happen the next time (next time?!?) he saw me. Maybe I was doing it all wrong. Maybe he wanted a dumb girl. I should’ve ended it all by saying I was a democrat.

Sometimes you don’t.