Over the years, I’ve cut myself some slack slack by telling myself I’m old-fashioned, shy, playing hard to get, and a variety of other euphemisms.  But, when I’m being completely honest with myself, the sad truth of the matter is I’m just a big dweeb.

Now, keep in mind, being a dweeb is very different from being a nerd or a dork or a geek, all labels with which I also identify.  Here’s a quick rundown of how I define the terms:

  • Nerd: Intelligent and often focused on a field of academic study.  Sometimes socially awkward.
  • Geek: Uniquely enthusiastic about a usually non-academic subject.
  • Dork: Goofy in an amusing and often endearing (but sometimes annoying) sort of way.
  • Dweeb: Engages in behavior that can be attributed to neither overintelligence or overenthusiasm. It’s the sort of stuff that makes you facepalm and think, “What the heck are you doing?”

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Case No. 1 In Point

There is exactly one cute guy who works in my office.  He is also either engaged or married; point is he’s unavailable.  Due to said unavailability, I am not interested in said Cute Office Guy.  Honestly.  And that’s what makes my behavior during the event I’m about to relate even more ridiculous than it would be if I were interested.

One day, a coworker from another department cornered me in the breakroom to ask me a question, since I am unofficially Master and Commander of Troubleshooting at Work.  During this conversation, Cute Office Guy happened to meander into the breakroom, too.  All of a sudden, I found myself very worried about sounding intelligent and capable and charming and like a girl.  I think I even started to blush.  In an instant, I was horrified by my attire: a long-sleeved T-shirt blaring the name of my sister’s high school soccer team with my dirty hair pulled back in a ponytail.  (Dressing like this most days is my small rebellion against the corporate dress code where I work.)

I managed to escape, I think, without sounding like a moron.  But I sure felt like one on the walk of shame back to my cube.  Yes, the guy is cute.  But he’s not that cute.  And I’m not interested.  So what the heck is my problem?  I can tell you.  It’s that I’m a huge, huge dweeb.

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Case No. 2 in Point

A few weeks ago, all four sectors of the non-normal person in me aligned when I went to see the Lord of the Rings Symphony.  Here’s how that played out. LOTR Geek. Symphony Nerd. Dork Factor achieved by arriving later than expected due to traffic and having to sprint from parking garage to concert hall in my nice clothes. And then the Dweeb Factor. During intermission, I, naturally, got up to go to the bathroom.  On the way back to the hall, I had to navigate through a long and thick line.  I happened to choose the tiny gap between a couple of guys.

“Excuse me,” I murmured.  No acknowledgment.  “Sorry, I’m just trying to get through,” I said, a little more loudly this time.  Finally, out of my peripheral vision, I see one of the guy’s heads turn toward me.  “Oh, just push this guy out of the way,” he says with a chuckle.  I smile, nod, and pass through with a fleeting “Sorry; thanks.”

And as I was passed onto the other side of this river of people, I realized that I had kept my eyes down the ENTIRE TIME.  Not once did I look any of these guys in the eyes.  Not even when he acknowledged me and made a joke.  When he attempted to engage me in banter.  I’m perfectly capable of returning banter!  Why didn’t I say something back?  Why didn’t I give him an amused smile?  Why didn’t I, at the very least, make freaking eye contact???  I think you know by now.
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I hope this is something I’ll grow out of with some active behavior and thought management (and there’s the nerd factor again).  I think the real issue here is that I’ve got to deal with being ELIGIBLE again.  Not just in the legal sense, mind you.  I’ve got to start feeling eligible again; I’ve got to keep reminding myself that I’m worth it.  I’m worth looking in the eye.  I’m worth bantering with.  I’m worth smiling at.  Shame is unbecoming, and I owe myself better, you know?

Gabe: I’d hate to be your boyfriend. He must go through hell.
Rain: Well… I’m worth it.
Husbands and Wives by Woody Allen