Crazy For A Geek Girl: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  “I like your name,” said Henry. “It was my grandmother’s name. And Henrietta was my other grandmother’s name.”

  “That’s an interesting coincidence,” I said. “I go by Netty to my friends.”

  “That’s really cute,” chuckled Henry. “That’s a cute nickname for Annette.”

  “Yeah, my parents always called me that and it stuck,” I said.

  “I started going by Henry in college,” she said. “I guess Henrietta just felt too girly to me.”

  “Well, going by Henry swaps that,” I said with a small laugh. Henry smiled.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe a little too far away. But I don’t think about it anymore. It’s just my name.”

  We shared a moment of silence in the conversation. That’s how it always is, isn’t it? That awkward, getting-to-know-you conversation is usually peppered with some silence as you consider what’s next.

  “Is it weird to be out with a client of yours?” I asked. “I don’t mean to make it weird by saying that, I’m just interested.”

  “A little,” said Henry. “But not really. Everything is a little weird to me, so I guess that makes nothing weird ultimately.” We both laughed softly together.

  “I guess that’s a good attitude to have,” I said. I brought my cup up and took a sip of tea.

  “Hey Netty,” said Henry, chewing a bit on her lip. “I have a hunch and I just want to get it out there.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “You’re a lesbian, right?” she said. Her face was trepidatious but serious.

  “Yes,” I said. “I am.”

  “Okay,” said Netty. “I mean, I thought you were. I just wasn’t totally sure.” Netty removed her black frames from her face and wiped the lenses off with her t-shirt, then replacing them back atop her nose.

  “Are you?” I asked cautiously, widening my eyes.

  “Mm hmm,” she affirmed.

  I suddenly felt a great sense of relief. I was uncertain up to that point about Henry. I didn’t want to offend her or get into an awkward situation. Smiling to myself, I pressed on and tried to remember how to better flirt. It had been a while for me.

  “What got you into computers?” I asked. Henry looked away and her face showed a bit of embarrassment.

  “I just…” she began. “I’ve always been a bit of a computer geek. Throughout my teenage years and stuff. It was natural for me.”

  “That’s cool,” I said. “It’s impressive. I’m all right with them, but definitely not good enough to do what you do.”

  “It’s pretty easy for me,” she admitted. I could tell talking about her nerdiness made her shy.

  “I think it’s great,” I said, reaching across the table and lightly touching her hand. Henry’s eyes slowly returned to our conversation and I could tell she was blushing.

  After finishing our tea, Henry admitted to me that she was scheduled to play her game later that evening and had to head home. As we hung together near the doorway of the teahouse, we exchanged numbers and my heart fluttered. I was feeling rather infatuated with her. In that moment, I was glad we hadn’t gone out for drinks because I knew I would have been tempted to drink, tried to press her into hanging out even later, with the idea of perhaps accelerating things too quickly. I knew myself well and that was one of the reasons I tried to avoid drinking alcohol. The teahouse had been a wonderful option.

  “It was nice getting to know you, Netty,” she said, leaning forward and hugging me.

  “You too,” I said, returning her hug. “Maybe we could get together again sometime?”

  “Totally,” said Henry. “Text me.”

  “All right,” I smiled, shaking my phone before slipping it into my pocket. “Oh, do you need a ride?”

  “Naw,” she said. “I live just a couple blocks away. I guess I sorta tricked you into driving to my neighborhood.” I laughed.

  “Are you sure?” I reiterated. “It’s cold.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” I said. I couldn’t help myself and I leaned in to hug her again, our big soft winter coats pushing against one another as we embraced. “Stay warm.”

  “Have a good night,” said Henry with a smile, giving me a little wave before slipping a wool cap on her head and pushing out of the teahouse door, walking into the chilly winter evening, disappearing quickly into the darkness.

  I sighed to myself. I missed Henry already and the usual loneliness began to set in.

  *

  I had a difficult time sleeping that night and woke up early rather than hazily remain twisted up in my blankets. My mind was dwelling on an amalgam of issues, most notably my work project and my little tea date with Henry. After sleeping on the issue, I felt as though I had somewhat stepped around the line of professionalism by going out with her. While our time spent together was innocent enough, I couldn’t help but think about making a go at her. There was something quite endearing to me about her geekiness. It was a world I had no experience with, outside my purview, and something that, admittedly, excited me greatly. I wanted to know more about her.

  I looked around my bedroom, with it’s modern design and large window wall, happy that I had been able to build such a life for myself and saddened that I didn’t have someone next to me in bed to share it with. Maybe that person was Henry. I didn’t know. But I so desperately wanted to find out.

  With my hair back in a ponytail, wearing a white tank top and loose grey sweatpants, I gripped onto my phone and wandered into my kitchen. Coffee was already made thanks to my preprogramed coffeemaker — hey, I’m not totally tech illiterate — so I grabbed a cup and sat down at my kitchen island. I gazed into my phone and considered texting Henry, despite how early in the morning it was. I mean, a text at 7AM wasn’t crazy on a Saturday morning, was it?

  With that morning jolt of caffeine from my coffee, I worked up the courage to begin composing a text. I didn’t really know what I could say but I just wanted to reach out, I just wanted a bit of a connection. I tried not to expect much of anything, I only felt like I needed to make a move.

  “Thanks for the tea date last night,” I began typing into my phone. “If you’re free, maybe I could take you somewhere today?”

  I stared down at my phone at this message in the composition window, feeling a bit scared to send it. Why was I scared? Why was I so nervous about this? It’s not like I totally embarrassed myself the previous night. We got along great. I couldn’t help but feel a little strange about our business relationship, but it wasn’t like she was assigned to work at my company every day like some of her coworkers. I could navigate this. I was a professional success. Relationships didn’t have to be so hard.

  My finger dangled over the “send” button for a moment or two before I closed my eyes and finally touched the button. I took a deep breath, sat my phone on the counter, and watched the window to see if she’d text back.

  I tried to imagine what’d I’d tell Henry I had in mind. Maybe we could go to the Natural History Museum or go take a cold walk along the lake. I guess the cold lake walk wasn’t too enticing of a scenario, but I did enjoy seeing the lake in winter, snow all around the beach, frigid waves crashing up onto the shore. Although Chicago could get pretty grey in the winter, the lake was always a beautiful sight to behold.

  Maybe we could go ice skating in Millennium Park? I mean, it sounds fun but it was a bit of a corny idea for a date. Very romantic comedy. I had a feeling that Henry might roll her eyes at the suggestion. I don’t know why I thought that. Probably just projecting my own insecurities.

  After I finished my cup of coffee and Henry still hadn’t texted back, I felt a little distraught. Standing up from the stool at my kitchen island, I placed my empty cup in the sink and stretched out. Having no plans for the day, I figured I should just go hop into the shower, get dressed, and head in to the office. I could probably get a lot done with the quiet of a Saturday, as only a handful of the foreign market traders would be in to work. I wo
uldn’t have to totally dress up, I could be comfortable and casual. And then maybe I could lighten my load for Monday.

  Just as I made my move to leave my kitchen and head toward the shower, my phone buzzed on the counter and I almost tripped on my own feet as I leapt toward it excitedly. How quickly our focus can change. I eagerly held the phone in both hands, unlocked it, and looked into the text window to gobble up Henry’s response.

  “Yeah!” was her response with a little yellow emoji smiling next to her text. “Still in bed, but totally down to hang later. What did you have in mind?”

  I hadn’t really settled on a date idea, so my brain began to race at a mile a minute. We could do brunch, I thought, and then off to something else. But what could that be? I wanted to make a good impression, like I was cool, like I had my act together, like I wasn’t some lonely workaholic. I mean, I was a lonely workaholic but I didn’t have to act like one when trying to impress somebody. I just couldn’t get my mind straight or flesh out an idea.

  After a moment, I just started typing to see what would come out.

  “How about brunch?” I wrote, sending it in its own message first. I then furiously typed my next line into the phone with my thumbs. “Then maybe we could go ice skating downtown.”

  I felt my stomach drop after hitting send. I felt so unbelievably corny for suggesting ice skating. It could be fun, of course, but I felt like it made me seem old or something. Henry probably just wanted to camp out in her apartment with a blanket wrapped around her playing a computer game.

  “Wow!” she typed back. “I would never thought to do that. I’m in!”

  My jaw about dropped when I read her text. Henry was actually enthusiastic about my silly plan. But I was elated and relieved. I just hoped I remembered how to skate.

  “I’ll pick you up at 11,” I wrote. “Text me your address.”

  It had been so long since I’d been on a Saturday day date, it didn’t seem like this was my reality. But Henry had me feeling giddy again, giddy in a way that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Since I’d cleaned up my act, gotten serious about work, love had become a difficult thing for me to wrangle. I wanted to really try to make things work with Henry, if she’d have me of course, and I was eager to impress. But how does someone like me impress a geek girl?

  *

  After an amazingly social and animated brunch, we hopped into my SUV and drove downtown to Millennium Park to try this skating thing out. At the brunch spot they had mimosas on special, an unlimited mimosa deal, which I would have jumped at in a past life. I admit, I was still a little tempted but when I saw Henry decline the deal with a roll of her eyes, I knew it would be easy for me to say no as well. I couldn’t help but smile as we hung out together, hoping I didn’t look too stupid or anything, too eager, too infatuated.

  The ice rink was bopping with people, bundled up figures gliding along the surface, scarves flying behind them, some people slipping and falling down on their butts with a laugh. It must have been twenty years since I last ice skated and I was definitely nervous. As we picked up our skates from the rental counter, Henry admitted something to me that made me even more nervous.

  Flipping her scarf up over her shoulder and shrugging off a bit of cold, her dark glasses lightly fogging up as her warm breath drifted up her face, Henry grinned at me showing off her bright teeth.

  “I used to be an ice skater,” she said.

  “What?” I exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” she said, looking demurely downwards for a moment. “I skated pretty seriously until I was 18 or so. It ended in college.”

  “Like competitions and such?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I should have told you at the restaurant but I was still a little embarrassed by it.”

  “You’re embarrassed by it?” I scoffed with a teasing smile. “I haven’t skated in a couple decades and I was never any good.”

  “We can just glide along the edges of the rink,” said Henry, sitting down on a bench and slipping on her skates. I followed her lead, the two of us tying up our skates together, boots to the side.

  “Okay,” I agreed with a bit of hesitance. “Make sure I don’t fall.” Henry smiled, took up both of our boots, walked on her skates to the rental counter, and handed them over. Turning back to me, she opened her arms.

  “Let’s do it!” she said.

  Although I had definitely been nervous, my skating legs came back to me after only a couple of minutes. It’s amazing what the body can remember and do. Henry was obviously quite good, but she didn’t flaunt it. Rather, the two of us slowly skated together along the edge, skating in time with some of the other people, moving deliberately, chatting and laughing as the winter sun peeked through the grey clouds above us, glimmering a reflection off the ice.

  “We haven’t really talked about what you do,” said Henry, quickly skating ahead of me, deftly turning, and then lining back up with me again. “Obviously I know that you guys are an investment firm. But what do you do there?”

  “I work in marketing and client relations,” I said, sticking my tongue out, trying to insinuate that it was boring or no big deal. “It’s fine. It’s lucrative. But there are hurdles, like any job I suppose.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “It’s just a ton of work sometimes,” I said. “It’s taken over my life. I need a break from it.”

  “So why don’t you just take a break?” said Henry, reaching out to steady me by grabbing my arm when she sensed I was losing a bit of balance. Even after keeping me upright, she continued to hold onto me and we skating along together.

  “I have a lot of responsibility,” I said. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

  “Yeah,” said Henry. “Of course.”

  “I haven’t said this out loud to anyone yet,” I said. “And I know we just met, so don’t think I’m weird.”

  “Oh jeez!” said Henry with a laugh, causing her glasses to slide down her nose a bit. She quickly reached a gloved hand up to adjust her glasses on her face. “Don’t put a ton of pressure on me or anything.”

  “Ugh, you’re right,” I said. “Forget it.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said, tilting her head and me and smiling acceptingly. “Go ahead. Open up.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath, trying to remain upright on my skates, unsure as to why I was even admitting this to Henry. We had only just met and here I was, immediately moving to the heavy stuff. But I wanted this to all start out right, open and honest, and I was just coming to terms with what I was about to tell her myself.

  “Your face changed,” said Henry, her smile waning. “If you don’t want to say this to me, Netty, you don’t have to. You can wait and tell me some other time.”

  “No,” I retorted. “No, I want to say this.”

  “All right,” said Henry, tightening her grip on my arm to both stabilize and comfort me, bracing against me, keeping us both on our feet. The two of us looked ahead as we skated, Henry giving me some visual space so I didn’t have to look her in the eyes with my admittance.

  “I think my job gave me a problem,” I started. “A problem with drinking.”

  “Oh,” said Henry softly. “I understand.”

  “I don’t want to make this too heavy or anything,” I said. “I just wanted you to know. I’m in the process of giving it up. Giving alcohol up.”

  “That’s great,” said Henry, her smile returning. She looked to me and gave me a gentle glance, an understanding glance. “You’ll be better for it.”

  “It’s been tough,” I said. “But I’ve been good! That teahouse last night was a total lifesaver. I can’t believe I suggested going to the bar with you.”

  “Old habits die hard,” she said. “Like I told you last night, I don’t really drink. I mean, I’ll occasionally have a glass of champagne or something at a wedding or an event but I don’t really like it. I just do it to make other people happy. I usually can’t even finish the
drink!”

  “Wow,” I said, huffing out a warm breath into the cold air, confused and surprised by Henry’s ability to abstain. “I want whatever you have.” Henry laughed softly.

  “I don’t know how I do it,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve just never really been interested in drinking.”

  “Thanks for letting me get it out,” I said, relieved at how supportive Henry was being. “You know, it’s kind of a bit taboo to admit you’re wrestling with alcohol. It makes the people you talk to about it question their relationship with it and that can be uncomfortable.”

  “Why do you think your job gave you this problem?” she asked.

  “That’s just my excuse right now,” I said. “It helps me.”

  “Okay,” said Henry, smiling.

  “That’s for listening,” I said. “And thanks for not letting me fall.”

  “Hey, if you fall,” she said, still gripping tight to me. “We both fall.”

  *

  “So this is my place,” I said, pushing the door open to my condo and letting Henry walk in first. She scooted her boots along the doormat to dry them off, then stepped over to the side and untied them. “Can I take your coat?”

  “Sure,” she said, unbuttoning her black wool coat and then turning around, allowing me to help slide it off her shoulders. I hung it up in the closet along with my own coat. I casually slipped out of my boots as well and the two of us moved together along the hard wood floors underneath as I showed her my condo.

  Henry looked so completely alluring to me. She wore thick black winter-weight leggings with a grey pair of shorts over top of them and a dark blue long-sleeved henley shirt, loose and billowy like it was a size too big for her, all the buttons at the neckline unbuttoned and causing the neck to open up wide and show off a white ribbed tank top underneath. Her black plastic glasses still had a bit of fog on them from coming indoors, and she adroitly removed them from her face and wiped them off on her shirt in a totally cute, unabashed way.

  When I was younger — hell, even when I was Henry’s age — I probably would have been snotty around a girl like her. Growing up I was popular, pretty, outgoing and that lead to a bit of pretentiousness that followed me to college and into my adult working life. In fact, I know for certain that I had made fun of girls like Henry before, to their faces even, for being different, liking different stuff, acting kind of odd. At 34, I can definitely see how silly that all was. It especially got strange for me when I accepted that I was a lesbian. I really got confused about who I was.