Smrtyboy

M3 and I took a self-portrait a few weeks ago. We were in the midst of a quick weekend jaunt to Vancouver, BC when he decided the time was nigh for me to face my crippling fear of heights. His solution? A leisurely stroll across a suspension bridge that dangled precariously at least thousand feet above a rocky riverbed if it was strung up an inch. Even with M3 holding my hand and assuring me that I'd be okay, it positively sucked. But an hour later and about $25 lighter, I'd done it. Twice. But that's so not the point.

In our self-portrait, M3's head consumed three quarters of the frame.

"That's because it holds a larger and more developed brain," he explained.

His argument was annoying, certainly, not to mention so obviously designed to provoke some sort of snarky response from yours truly. Unfortunately, his justification for his ginormous cranium was also not entirely without merit.

My all-time favorite thing about online dating was just how easy it was to almost instantaneously cast people aside when they didn't meet my stringent criteria related to their ability to spell, write or form coherent sentences. Unfortunately for the vast majority of the male online dating universe, determining someone's intellectual horsepower is actually pretty easy, really, when your initial meeting occurs via the Internet and thus, the written word.

In the case of me and M3, because we met via a dating website the premise of which is to help singles find a lifetime of lasting love, I knew enough about him to be fairly certain that the boy had a brain even before we'd exchanged one single email.

I knew the last book he'd read (or, at the very least, the last book he intended to have me believe he'd read). I knew the most influential person in his life and why. I knew the one thing he was most passionate about....the five things he can't live without...and the ultimate characteristic that he was seeking in a potential mate.

M3 and I carried on via little more than email for weeks before actually meeting. And, because one of us was still in a relationship, we continued to be relegated to that very same medium for almost another entire month after we'd finally met face-to-face and discovered within like the first five minutes that we had the hots for each other. In the end, after a stretch of weeks that felt much like a very tedious lifetime, through the exchange of more email messages then either of us at this point could count, I fell for the boy.

(It also didn't hurt that he was a total fox.)

I may be wise when it comes to matters of the heart (kindly refer to archived posts between the dates of January 2 and January 26 for compelling evidence in support of this argument rather than the wealth of other blog posts that attest rather explicitly to the contrary).

But M3's smart about shit that matters.

Like the implications of American foreign policy on the global economy. And supply-side economics. And he probably knows at least a dozen real reasons to mock George W. Bush above and beyond the tragic reality that the cowboy hat-wearing leader of the free world not only makes up words but clearly has profound difficulty pronouncing others.

So while I absolutely find M3 to be really unbelievably attractive (and often tell him so, even when I haven't been drinking)...and continue to routinely marvel at the gravity-defying amplitude of his buttocks...and am challenged on a minute-by-minute basis whenever we're together to not fully molest him, especially in public...

M3's big ol' brain is by far the sexiest part of his anatomy.

Last week, as I was en route to San Diego for a rowing competition, he sent me some light reading that he thought could help pass the time in the airport. They were essays he'd written in 2004, published on a political website. It took me a couple of days to finally give them the attention they deserved.

And I think I might be more head over heels now than ever.

An examination of the Medicare Prescription Drug Improvement and Modernization Act of 2003. A dissection of the implications of Reaganomics in the context of John Kerry's failed attempt to reclaim the White House from the lot of buffoons currently taking up residence. An assessment of the Democratic platform, the party's position on the role of government from the genesis of this particular debate more than 200 years ago to that which Kerry espoused in the 2004 election, and the cavernous delta that separates the opinions of our two primary political ideologies on this very matter today.

To a girl who is woefully undereducated on both the topics of politics and the economy...and to that very same girl who wishes each and every Sunday that this weren't the case yet who knowingly and deliberately leaps straight to the New York Times' wedding announcements and Style pages, generally bypassing the front section entirely...M3's words were pure poetry.

Oh, and yesterday he also referred to himself as my boyfriend.

Smart boys are so fucking hot.