Romance Evil Twin style

It is Friday afternoon, 4:18pm to be exact. I am sitting on my desk chair with my legs propped up on my lab chair. I see a medical student potential walk out of the lab with her black Ann Taylor pant suit. My balding kind temporary boss walks her out. As soon as the lab door closes, he turns to me and says, "So are we drinking?"

"Hells, ya," I reply. "I was waiting for you to finish all of your interviews."

He laughs. "Nah you should have come in and poured yourself a drink. Maybe then she would have gotten the hint the interview was long over."

"Went that well, huh?" I say.

"Eh. I just rather be drinking." he says. "Well ET#1, I guess this is your official last day at Harvard. So which one do you want to start off with?" He points to the row of Scotch and Irish Whiskeys on his desk. Nothing younger than 12 years. I knew I liked him better than my own adviser.

I plunk down on his couch as he plays bartender at his desk. He calls out to the lab and tells them working time is over. One by one students, technicians, and postdocs pour into his office. Most of them are not drinking, but find it amusing to us do it. Amongst the students, there was one of particular note. He was our first Roton of the year. (Tangent: Rotons are first year Ph.D. students who are rotatating in different lab to find a match.)

After about 5 whiskeys, we all walk down the hall for departmental beer hour to get a little food in our stomach. Every Friday afternoon at 5pm the Microbiology department gives out free beer and snack foods to encourage socialization. Socialization... liver failure....tomato....tomato. Anyway, I start drinking some Mike's Hard lemonade, because that is all that is left when you come to beer hour too late. One of the adorable Kewpie-esque Tawainese postdocs asks to have a sip. She likes it and downs the bottle. And so starts the chain of events to a demented romantic story.

"Oh crap are you okay?" I ask. The adorable postdoc whole face is beet red and she can't seem to stand straight. We walk her to our lunch room. Because it is my last day, I emptied out my liquor cabinets and brought all of it to the lab. Mainly, I brought it for one of the students. He is in his fourth year, and I know he will need it to fortify his will. While we watch the adorable postdoc recover, the rest of us keep drinking. Now we move onto gin and tonics. I tell the Roton to get the post doc some crackers from the vending machine. It works and the adorable postdoc has the ability to stand,so we all decide to get dinner.

We sit down at the table, after an intricate musical chairs number. I am sitting next to the Roton. this benefits me greatly, because I mistakenly order a salad because it had the word steak in its title. I proceed to eat all the mashed potatoes off of his plate. He asks that I help him steal the glass he is given. It has a gnome on it. Since I am especially adept at restaurant thefts, I throw it into his bag.

Finally, it is 12pm and it is time for us all to go home. I start walking and chatting, but I realize I should have no one to chat. I tell the Roton, "Isn't your apartment over there?"

"Yeah, but no woman should walk alone. It's no big deal, I'll just walk you home," he says.

Now were I not a moron I should be suspicious because two other female postdocs just left alone. But I thought fair enough. After all, after the last party we had in the lab he walked me home from the South End (approx 3.5 miles) in sub zero weather. As we were walking, put my hand in the crook of his arm. Okay, I think, he is a gentleman. He did this for me last time to keep my hand in the splint from freezing. Oh except this time I had no splint.

He points into shop windows as we walk by them. Isn't that funny, who would ever wear that, why flying pigs? At my stoop, I thank him. He asks if he can use the restroom, so I let him in. When he gets out, I am in the foyer reading my issue of Science. Now for all those who know me, know I love being the first one to a magazine. So I am standing there reading it and he is standing next to me. He leans in and kisses me. First priority is to make sure my magazine does not get crumpled. Then I assess the moment. In a flash it become clear. Him constantly hanging out in my part of the lab, always sitting next to me, him jokingly putting his arm around me, and walking me home under inclement conditions. "Oh I'm sorry, but I thought it was my last chance. I know you said you would never date another scientist, but....," he said.

Really, I said I would date another scientist. Ahhh yes. Many months ago I said that, but who thought people were actually paying attention to what I said. "Put your bag down and take off your coat," I say. He does and goes to the couch. I follow him with Science in tow. He has his arm around me and is playing with my hair as I read my magazine. "Seriously," I say, "why the Medaka fish, who do these people think they are?" He just kisses the top of my head and says he does not know.

Epilogue
I call the Roton on Monday night to see if he want to go out on Tuesday. He does not call back. In fact, he disappears and does not show up to the lab. Sigh. Back to drinking.