HOT FOR TEACHER

It takes a special kind of woman to get all hot and bothered by the prospect of dating a college professor...and I'm not talking about David Duchovny on "Californication" here. I'm talking about a real-life, atmospheric chemist, a guy who spends his days teaching undergrads and some of his week nights running their 4-hour chem labs. I'm talking about a guy who's passionate about the periodic table. A guy who knows a fuckload about...atoms. And I'm telling you, I'm the woman who's more than a little bit titillated by that.



In the spirit of full disclosure, Dr. Freud would have a field day with this one. After all, my own dear father is a professor (though not a chemistry professor, he's a physics professor...totally different, right?) Maybe we do all end up with guys like our dads (yikes.) All I know is the following, which I will share with you:



1. He has a job.

2. It's not in Hollywood.

3. He's adorable (even in his faculty mug shot).

4. He can write a coherent sentence.

5. His students absolutely love him, and more than a few think he's hot, too. (Nice.)



This, friends, was all I needed to know to agree to a Saturday night date this upcoming weekend with The Professor. Some might say my standards are low (and my track record in dating does nothing to disprove this) and some might say my interest in a college professor is purely Freudian, but I just don't care. My unsinkable, incurable optimism still insists that someone out there is waiting for me. And while getting oneself back into the dating scene is a bit like jumping into the deep end of a cold pool on a nippy January morning (even for those of us who actually like dating), I keep putting my metaphorical bathing suit on, over and over again. Although if I'm really going to go for the metaphor here, I should probably say I'm putting on a wetsuit this time--more protection from the brutal cold, more sturdy, more staying power.



Now what's remarkable about this ever-lovin' optimism of mine is that even when faced with the most egregious and insulting acts against womankind, I persevere (or as George W. Bush would've said, "preserve.") Here's my case in point: a friend of mine...we'll call her Lynn...had recently found herself texting again with a guy with whom she once had a hot, passionate thing (I'm gonna take a moment to quote Alexyss K. Taylor here and say, "Dick'll make you slap someone." If you haven't, please youtube that and get back to me. It's brilliant.) So they texted back and forth (welcome to 2009...the fact that most communication in romantic situations is happening via text message makes me think that men have won, somehow...) until he wrote (on Saturday night) something to the effect of "IF YOU DON'T MEET ME, I'LL BE FORCED TO HOOK UP WITH THIS SLUTTY GIRL ON HOLLYWOOD BLVD."



I'm sorry, but WHAT?!?



As in, "If you don't meet me, I will hook up with this yucky skank, and it will be your fault"? I mean, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. What a total douche. I mean, if there is anyone who is NOT DESERVING OF PUSSY IN ALL OF LOS ANGELES, it is THAT guy.



Anyway, I share this as an example of the plethora of total morons and douchebags that are currently swimming in the dating pool. And yet, I knocked down, but I get up again...ain't never gonna keep me down (thank you, Chumbawamba.) So back I go, into the cold, deep end of that dating pool...hoping that this time, a cute chemistry professor is going to have some palpable chemistry with me. I'll let you know how it goes...keep your fingers crossed.

In the mean time, here's what I'm eating tonight:

Simple Arugula & Lemon Whole Wheat Pasta (adapted from Cooking for Mr. Latte by Amanda Hesser)

Handful of whole wheat spaghetti
2 lemons zested (juice only one)
Parmesan, freshly grated (a handful)
3 handfuls arugula, chopped
1/2 cup creme fraiche
1 cup frozen peas, defrosted in microwave
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Cook the spaghetti, reserve 1 cup water. Combine lemon zest, cheese, and arugula in a bowl. Drain pasta, toss with lemon zest, cheese, arugula. Add a little lemon juice and pasta water and creme fraiche. Add peas. Fold together until it's well blended. Serve with more cheese.

Serves 1 hopeful romantic, who can keep going on pure hope but fares better when fed.