Chapter 2: The end of the beginning.

(By now, you might be a bit impatient with the pace. It speeds up a bit, but not too much--this is real life.)

When we got back, I dropped off my stuff at my place, and went to lab. Mostly to check e-mail and flip through a few websites. As it turned out, I noticed that Liz had also come in--she worked in the lab adjoining mine--to pick up a few papers she needed to read, I found out later. So, it seemed only natural for me to stop in and say hi.

We ended up staying and talking for hours. Not about anything of real consequence or the typical exchange of common interests--just talking about past experiences, current problems, and future ambitions. It was as if we already knew each other well enough to skip all the formalities and requirements of 'getting to know each other.'

That became the pattern for the next few weeks. I'd drop by once or twice after work (I rarely scheduled any experiments past six or seven; she had no such inhibitions), and chat with her while she was working in the lab. The conversations usually ran to how she was doing in her classes, commiserating on how few results both of us were getting in our experiments, but rarely anything intensely personal.

During those weeks, it gradually occurred to me how little I actually knew about Liz (and how little she undoubtedly knew about me) in some aspects. For example, I could describe her favorite articles of clothing and most-used figures of speech in some detail, but couldn't begin to tell you her favorite singer, color, or movie. I could explain what she was working on and what she wanted to be ten and twenty years from now, but not her favorite book or poet. And it wasn't a problem with me. That realization made a decision I had been agonizing over much easier. You see, I couldn't figure out whether I wanted to pursue a relationship or a friendship with Liz.

She's charming, intelligent, and enjoys my company (at least, I didn't have any indications to the contrary). She's fine-boned, and her hair brings out golden highlights in her hazel eyes (those are the first physical characteristics I look at--even if Venus descended, I wouldn't give her a second glance if I didn't like her hair and eyes). Problem is, we've rarely interacted outside the lab. Also, I have suspicions that our chemistry would break down completely if subjected to the strain of normal date tension. Plus, I thought that I knew her well enough to tell that I wasn't her type. She's a romantic (anyone who takes Latin dance classes has to be a romantic in my book), whereas I'm... not. She's comfortable in a crowd, whereas I often find myself more alone in a crowd than by myself. And then, there's the whole 'I don't really know that much about her, she's not offering too many details, and I don't want to ask because those questions are usually those one asks en route to actual dating' angle. I have this really weird pet peeve against doing anything that could be construed as hitting on someone or being viewed as someone who would hit on someone--it's a long story I won't get into here. In addition, she'll semi-disappear at the end of January (she starts research away from Hopkins), as will most of my usual casual contact with her. And lastly, she's dated three guys since she's been here. None of them lasted, which doesn't bode well for yours truly.

In the end, I decided that I'd like myself better if I tried to be her friend with my normal persona than if I tried to be someone else in order to pursue a relationship. Granted, I haven't decided what I would do if she defied my predictions and asked me out, but it was a reasonable place to start.