Alone In Bed In Montreal

Strange things happen to me when I go to conferences.  I won't say I go crazy, just that my mind starts to behave in strange fashions.  I don't know if it's because I have to spend an extended period of time away from home, or if it's because I have to spend time in contact with a number of strangers, or because my usual mechanisms of self-distraction are not available, but my mind becomes overactive.

One thing happens is that I often end up writing a lot.  Which is a consequence of me spending a lot of time thinking.  I think when I'm with other people, and I try to find time to be by myself so I can think some more.  I think, and think, and ultimately end up writing my thoughts down.  Which is what I am doing right now.  Another things that happens is I become emotional.  I don't mean burst into tears or hysterical emotional.  I just mean that somehow I feel my emotions more acutely.  Perhaps it's just another symptom of thinking more.  But I find myself feeling things and having flights of fancy that I wouldn't have under everyday circumstances.

A common occurrence is that I will, I hate to use the term, fixate on a person I meet at a conference.  It's not obsessive, more like a very strong crush.  In actuality, it's not something that's bad.  People normally meet other people, find themselves attracted to another person, maybe have a bit of a crush.  I'm led to believe this happens to people all the time.  I guess what's different for me is that it happens way more frequently at conferences, so it seems to stand out.  Maybe that's because I'm meeting new people at a rate much higher than I normally do, so the chance for sparking is higher.  But I'm always on the lookout for abnormal psychological behavior in myself, and it worries me when something stands out.

Her name is Coralie, and she is a grad student from a Caulobacter lab in Geneva.  My interaction started innocently enough.  I was putting up my poster before the Caulobacter meeting and two girls were wandering around looking at posters.  They were looking at mine and I just said "hey, that's me, do you want me to take you through it?"  They said sure, so I ended up explaining the project.  That was kind of it.  Later on one of the girls presented a talk that had some work that explained a very confusing piece of data I had.  I was pretty excited.  After the talks I tapped her on the shoulder and said "when you get a moment you need to come see my other poster, I have something you are going to want to see."  In a little bit she came over.  I showed her my data and how thanks to her work it actually made sense now.  I explained how I wasn't going to do anything with the data and my boss and I think she should take this work and expand it a bit and it would really help out her paper.  She seemed relatively happy with the idea.

It was then that my attention began to focus on her.  Normally at the end of a poster-type conversation, the non-poster person politely makes some excuse to be elsewhere and awkwardly leaves.  But she didn't.  Everytime the conversation began to wind down and I thought she was going to excuse herself, she was spark the conversation back up again.  About this, about that.  Half-consciously in response, I turned on what charm I had.  We ended up chatting for, oh, 45 minutes?  An hour?  Quite some time.  She's a slender beauty, with a very expressive face, and she laughed at most of my jokes.  It was very pleasant.

During one of the later talks our eyes met from across the room.  She scrunched up her face and flicked her eyes towards the speaker.  The maneuver could be interpreted one of two ways.  Either "get a load of this boring crap" or "hey, stop looking at me and pay attention to the talk, silly man".  Either way, I laughed, and that seemed to go over well.  I can count one hand without using all my fingers those special types of moments I have had with someone.  They are precious to me beyond dollars and doughnuts.

So now I follow.  I am led like a lamb.  I try not to be the creepy stalker.  I wave if I see her, and if I get a chance to say a few words, I say a few words.  But in my head I yearn, and in a room of over 200 people I am not satisfied until I know where she sits.  I itch and hop until the bun of her hair or the orange peel curve of her chin provide relief.  What does she think of me?  Based on her reactions there could be a possibility of her being attracted to me.  It is a non-zero probability.  But more than likely she just thinks I'm a nice guy.  And I'll take that.  So often people think I'm the asshole, that if she goes back to Geneva and thinks "wow, I met this really nice guy named Patrick", I will consider that a win any day of any week.  But as I lie here alone in bed in Montreal, wanting to taste her neck, I fancy the idea that as I wish she was lying here beside me, maybe she is lying in bed wishing I was there beside her.  Wouldn't that be something?  Wouldn't that be something.