“She’ll Do”, Part 1

I remember exactly where I was sitting, even though I was actually standing. It just seems more appropriate to be sitting when someone spontaneously calls you beautiful, doesn’t it? Means you have to look up to acknowledge it, like Snow White awaking from her mortal slumber to find Prince Charming gazing down upon her. 

Well anyhow, I was there by the exit of a roller coaster, waiting for two of my friends. A random guy, maybe just a few years older than me, happened to glance in my direction. Without saying a word, he smiled, then sheepishly turned and kept on walking.

Okay, so he technically didn’t tell me I was beautiful. But I knew that smile and what it implied. I knew it because I’d never seen it before. Isn’t it amazing how some of the things we know best are the things we’ve never experienced? The soul sees before the eye does. 

Claire is my name, in case you care to know. Claire Jamella. And no, this isn’t gonna be a story about how I never felt beautiful until I met him. Because then it would just be a Pygmalion-esque wish-fulfillment tale, and we have enough of those in the world, don’t we? 

I’m simply saying that beauty is a science as much as it is an art, and scientifically-speaking, I’ve always been pretty average. Artistically-speaking, I’m overflowing with potential — except even after that potential is realized, I’ll still only be average, scientifically-speaking. And I’m alright with that.

‘Cause even when you’re beautiful, you have no guarantee of finding true love. And while I sat through boring class after boring class in college, I really started to feel the clock ticking. 

As unfeminist as it may sound, I’d always wanted to be a mother. One child would do, just enough to prove I was here and left something good behind after I was gone. I hadn’t ruled out an unprotected one-night stand and keeping the baby, but that was certainly not ideal. Some sort of formalized commitment would be nice. 

And sometimes I wished I had a little device implanted in me that told me whether or not the men I passed every day found me attractive. That would have saved me a lot of rejection and wasted time, you know? No hours of pointless flirtation and misheard signals followed by more hours of hopeless hope and rom-com manifestations. Though it could have backfired: 

“Never in a million years would I date that girl.” 

Or the more condescending, “Aww, she’s sweet, but no thanks!”And what if no one I passed found me attractive? What if every smile was that condescending one people give you when they’re worried for your happiness because clearly you don’t have what it takes to find happiness?

As a full-time Freudian psychology student, I knew I already thought about men and sex more than most, and that I probably needed to spend more time on other things, like fantasizing about being the lead in a Princess Diaries remake. 

Still, a device like that really would save me a lot of trouble. Maybe even open my eyes to people I wouldn’t have normally been attracted to under other circumstances.

***

“I’ve been working on an experiment,” my best friend Maryann told me one afternoon at Steak ‘n Shake, our favorite college hangout. 

“For class?” I asked. I should have known better. 

“Most certainly not,” Maryann replied with a slight aura of pretentiousness. “For all humankind.”

“You’re not working on another love potion, are you?” I interjected with one eyebrow raised. Maryann had always been a wannabe witch, even if she technically believed witches were in direct cahoots with Satan and that could lead a person straight to Hell. 

“Not exactly. But in the same ballpark—”

“Maryann, I don’t want the FBI to open another case on you—”

“They never opened a case on me. Your dad is just paranoid.”

“My dad is usually right about these sorts of things.”

“Well, it’s not FBI-worthy anyway. Not even local police-worthy. But it might be perfect for the student paper.”

“Go on.” My interest was officially piqued.

“Well…” Maryann glanced to either side, then leaned in over the table. “I think I might have invented a device that enables its wearer to instantly tell whether or not a person is attracted to them.”

My jaw dropped open. This was my dream come true! Then again, Maryann was one percent bite and 99 percent bark 99.9 percent of the time. I couldn’t get my hopes up too quickly. “And how exactly would that work?” I asked.

“It’s quite simple actually.” Maryann knew she had me, and she leaned back with a smirk. “Sexual attraction is primarily a matter of brain chemicals, and these chemicals are mostly manifested through the eyes. My device picks up on the slightest details of a human retina and can detect attraction or the lack thereof instantaneously.” 

I blinked, pausing to think about the plausibility of this before responding.

Maryann had always had wild ideas — she once claimed that Jurassic Park was a brilliant, possible concept that had been ruined by guys being guys, and that she would become the female John Hammond the world never knew it needed — but beneath her oddities was a profound sincerity that the world could certainly have used more of. 

Still, I couldn’t let this chance pass. “Can I try it out?”

Maryann grinned. “You mean be my guinea pig? Sure! I don’t think it’ll kill you or anything if something goes wrong.”

“Well that’s a relief.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but my stomach flip-flopped on me. “Have you tried it on yourself yet?”

“A little. But no one’s ever found me attractive, so I’m not really the best example.”

“Oh, Maryann, you know that’s not true! You just meet the wrong girls. You’re surrounded by Kristen Stewarts when you should really be surrounded by Beanie Feldsteins.”

Maryann rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I think…”

“Don’t you think Beanie Feldstein is hot? And that Kristen Stewart is, like, so overrated?”

“I guess. But physically speaking, you have to agree Kristen Stewart is superior—”

“Then physicality is overrated,” I said, waving the thought away. “Anyhow, that’s beside the point. If your device hasn’t detected attraction from any person, then I doubt it really works. But I’ll still give it a try.”

“Great! If you wanna come back with me to my dorm, you can try it now.”

For the second time in those few short minutes, my jaw dropped. “You have this thing stored in your dorm?”

“Where else would I store it?”

“But what about room inspections?”

“They wouldn’t know what it is. It’s basically a microchip that fits in your hair. They’d probably think it’s a USB drive or something.”

I leaned back and looked at my friend for a moment in admiration. How could someone be so brilliant, after all? “Alright. I guess I can try it now.” 

We paid for our food, and I followed Maryann to her embarrassingly messy dorm room. All geniuses are messy, right? It’s a side effect of their brilliantly disorganized thought processes. 

I was still pretty skeptical of this “device” she wanted to try on me, but curiosity usually overpowers my skepticism. Sure, curiosity also killed the cat, but it’s saved many a human being from the enslaving dullness of daily routine. And who knew: Maybe I’d be finding Mr. Right that day. 

After I survived not tripping over the legions of underwear she had lying on the ground, Maryann led me to the tallest shelf of the cabinet in her closet-sized bathroom, and pulled out the secret device. Then, biting her lip in concentration, she stuck it in my hair right above my ear. 

With a grin, Maryann said, “Alright, now go find yourself some guys.”

I hesitated, and my hand twitched upward before I could stop it. “Do I have to turn it on or anything?”

“Nope, it should turn on by itself.”

“And how will I know whether a guy’s attracted or not?”

“It’ll start ringing when it senses attraction. And when it doesn’t — well, you’ll just hear silence.”

“So if I start going deaf, that’s a good thing?”

“Precisely.” Maryann’s grin got wider. “But don’t worry, it doesn’t ring too loudly.”

“How would you know if it hasn’t worked for you yet?”

“I tested the ringing sound beforehand. Kept it at a safe decibel level. Now c’mon, I want to see who your future husband is!” 

Maryann practically shoved me out the door, and she closed it behind me before I could say anything else. I grimaced, and began walking toward the cafeteria, preparing myself for disappointment. Finding a pocketful of guys on our campus wasn’t too difficult; the cafeteria constantly swarmed with them. 

I locked eyes with a really cute guy first-thing, but the device? Not a sound. Damn. Hopefully it was just broken, and Maryann was crazy after all. 

For the next 30 minutes as I wandered that male-glutted cafeteria, nothing happened. “Hello, darkness, my old friend…” started to play in my mind. It was positively depressing. But then all of a sudden, I heard a 1980s phone-esque ringing near the top of my right ear. 

I looked up and locked eyes with a shaggy-haired dude of the sort who look like they’re plotting to blow up the school or assassinate the president. Damnit!! At least now I knew the device might actually work. 

Five minutes later, I heard another ringing noise and looked up again, this time making eye-contact with my abnormal psych professor. I guess that figured: It’d seemed fishy to still have an A in the class despite failing almost every exam. 

Turning another corner, I heard yet another ringing. This time I was not disappointed; it was a decent-looking business student I’d talked to once or twice, Luke. He wasn’t Cary Grant, but his eyes were green and soulful, his physicality decently average, and his jawline was just a notch below being Glen Powell-worthy. 

In short, I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. 

But I couldn’t exactly go up to him and say, “I can sense you’re attracted to me, wanna go out sometime?” I’d always been bad at starting conversations; whenever I tried to break the ice, I usually ended up creating more ice. But people are capable of change, or at least of growing to be better versions of themselves. Why not give it a try?

So I strutted up to Luke — okay, it was more like I nervously walked in slow-motion — and said, “Hi, Luke! How have business classes been?” 

The question seemed to catch him slightly off-guard, and I could almost hear the thought: Why would this girl he barely knows randomly approach him in the cafeteria and ask him about class? But to do him credit, he tried to act like it was perfectly normal. 

“It’s going good. How’s, uh… psychiatry?”

“Psychology. But close enough. It’s going alright. Always staving off advances from my Freudian professors, but you know how it goes.” 

“You must remind them of their mothers.”

I wasn’t sure how to take this, but I decided to play along. “I guess so. I’ve just got that homemaker quality in my eyes, don’t I?”

Luke seemed to choke — was it with laughter or fear? “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “You just seem very kind and gentle. Well, from the little I’ve talked to you anyhow.”

“Thanks.” I blushed and dipped my head away, trying to hide it. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Then I stopped. Didn’t I want him to think I was attracted to him? Wasn’t that the point of all this? Let the face burn! Guys liked a shy and nervous girl, or so I’d heard.

“What are you up to right now?” Luke finally asked amidst a charmingly coy smile.

“Oh, you know, just grabbing dinner. Gotta enjoy that meal plan while it lasts.”

He did laugh this time. “Yeah, it’s almost too good to be true. I definitely gained the Freshman 15.”

“You don’t show it though.”

“Well, I’m a senior now,” he said with a shrug.” I’ve had time to lose it. But I can always gain it back…” His eyes wandered to the dessert bar.

“Nothing wrong with that. You look like you could use a few more pounds on you.”

“Really? I always thought girls liked the skinny guys.”

“We like them somewhere in between. You still have some in-betweening to do.”

“Duly noted. Maybe I’ll go get an extra cookie.”

“I’ll come with you.” This popped out of my mouth way faster than I’d intended it to, but I had to run with it now, so I gave a quick grin. “Just for moral support. I’ve been trying to lose a few pounds.”

“Great! Er, uh, I mean, about the moral support. You already look perfect exactly as you are—” His cheeks turned bright red as he tried to stammer out a proper finish, but couldn’t find one.

Luke was so adorable when he was trying to dig himself out of a hole! Things were looking good; maybe Maryann was a genius after all! 

Continued in Part 2…

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