Some weeks ago, we had a spasm of reactionary posting here at GeekaChicas, all related to a blog post whining about "wimmin in ur syfy, puttin' frilly petticoats on ur manly mens." We had a lot of fun with it, as did many other bloggers and genre writers.

I stand behind everything the GC bloggers said at that time - women have always been a big part of SciFi and science, though they have been often enough subjected to the Invisibility Gaze of their male counterparts.

I've had some time to reflect upon the episode, and various intervening bits of news have given me some perspective. I'm the sort of person who sometimes has to boil ideas on the back-burner for a bit, and see what floats to the top. This time, I ended up thinking about something that happened a long time ago.

When I was a youngster, I would often take long walks in the evenings, up and down the roads near the rural home where my family finally settled after my father retired from military service. It was a lovely place - rolling hills, mountains in the distance and fragrant apple orchards nearby. Sometimes in the fall, I would go a bit farther than I had planned, and get caught out in the failing light.

One night, when I was still a quarter mile or so from home and the sparse streetlights had come on, someone stepped out of the trees in front of me.

With his pants down.

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You read that correctly, my friends.  Imagine my glee when I was surprised one evening with the gift of....

Trust me...I lived on nothing but Star Trek waffles and syrup for the next two days.  Literally.  I must say that Spock, be he of the Nimoy or Quinto variety, is quite delicious when smothered in maple syrup.  Should Eggo decide to make breakfast food out of any other hotties, I will gladly volunteer to taste test.

Or, you know, if anyone needs to conduct an experiment to see if hot men are worthy of breakfast status without the pesky waffles in the way, well....I suppose I can make that sacrifice.  For science, you see.

 Now let's go buy more maple syrup!

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Saucy Saturday is a new feature at GeekaChicas, in which a brave Chica unleashes her sexy self and salty humor for the edification of us all. Saturdays will only be saucy when the mood strikes. ~ The Management 

I've always loved the idea of nerds. I've been attracted to them since I was a young teenager. Especially onscreen. They were the only fictitious characters I can remember being attracted to as a young'un. Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, Jeff Goldblum in the Fly, Sam Neil in Jurassic Park, Matthew Broderick in War Games.

MmmMmmMmmmmm. Yummy. As a consequence, when I got to be a teenager, the people I developed crushes on were all nerds.

Brian, the web footed D&D nerd who introduced me to LARPs; Chris, the drugged out librarian boy I stalked amongst the shelves for two years; David, the HOT AS FUCK 6ft tall Taiwanese man who was the network engineer at my first computer job and who courted me with Badtz-Maru dolls; Mark, the beautiful red headed AutoCAD engineer who made my 17 year old heart dream of marriage and babies; Michael, the interior designer who was secretly a gun and history nerd; Nate, the chess guru who challenged my head and libido...

Every single one of these guys caught my eye right off the bat because they were quintessential NERDS. Smart, socially inept, shy, driven, fascinated by arcane subjects, capable of focusing intensely on whatever they were interested in.

I was completely fascinated by all of them. I could sit for hours and listen to them talk about their passions, and while sometimes it was a give and take, mostly it was them talking at me. I learned a lot from them, over the years.

But, inevitably, I'd fall out of fascination. I'd start to feel disappointed. I wasn't sure why, because they didn't change. They were still awesomely nerdy, sweet, shy... they were still all the things I was attracted to in the first place. But I always fell out of attraction with them, waiting for them to become something they were never going to be. I wasn't sure what that something was, but I knew I expected it of them. Well, over beers last night, I realized what that something was. We were talking about how stupid Superman's disguise was. Glasses. C'mon. Really?? Glasses on - mild mannered reporter. Glasses off - SUPERMAN!!! I got to thinking out loud about what that really says about how our society views glasses. What do glasses represent? Nerds. What do nerds represent? Inept, shy, clumsy, ineffective, and definitely not sexy.

Clark Kent was a nerd. But slip his glasses off, and suddenly you've got the strongest man in the world, packing something awful attractive in those bright red undies. Interesting.

Now, Indiana Jones. "Jonesy wasn't a nerd!" you might say. "He was an adventurer!" But really. Think about it. Indy was an archeology professor. He was completely socially inept. Yeah, he got the hot girls, but not through any real effort on his part. He was hyper focused, abrupt, impatient, very cerebral, and he wore a bow tie. That bow tie is what got me thinking. Because when does he wear a bow tie? In school. When he's in nerd mode. Indy's disguise is his bow tie. Take it off, and you've got a hot dude in a fedora and whip, ready to whisk you off on an insane adventure. So. My epiphany?

I'm always waiting for the nerds to take off the glasses and bow tie and whisk me away, knock me off my feet, kiss me crazy, and take me dancing in the air. Because that's what nerds DO!! Underneath every nerdly exterior is an adventurous hero beating his chest and waiting to ravish you. Right? RIGHT??? Wrong. And it's taken me till I'm in my thirties to realize this. Fuck you, Indiana Jones. Fuck you and your false expectation creations. I still love nerds. I'm still attracted to their beautiful brains. But I'm no longer looking for them to be something they're not. Now, if I want an adventurer, I'm more likely to go looking in REI than the local library. If I want a gorilla, I'll go to a sports game. If I want wonderful conversation and sensitive, emotional sex... I'll find a nerd. I can deal with that.

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