I AM SUPERMAN! (Wednesday’s only)

I’m out and proud. I have embraced my status as a nerd.

You might wonder what qualifies me to claim this for myself. Well, let me ask you—what is your definition of a nerd?

• Book smart 
• Socially awkward 
• Introverted 
• Obsessive 
• Science fiction and fantasy enthusiast (see obsession) 

Check. Check. Checkity-check. Double check.

• The guy who never gets the girl  (with flashing neon lights)

Several people have claimed that they invented the word, including sci-fi author Philip K. Dick (yeah, the guy who wrote the book that spawned Blade Runner), or that knurd is drunk spelled backwards, and refers to students who’d rather study than party. But, the true etymology comes from a Dr. Seuss book, If I Ran the Zoo, where a nerd is a small hominid who is angry and funny-looking.

Geek, however, dates back to the 1200s, so it’s coming up for a thousand years of rocking that socially awkward outcast gene.

But I digress. I do that a lot, since along with an IQ of 159—one point higher and I’d officially be a genius—I also have ADHD and OCD. I’m a walking, talking alphabet soup.

But it wasn’t until I started college that I fully embraced my nerdiness.

High school was the unremitting hell of being stuffed in lockers by every member of the football team, like some sort of rite of passage for them. The bullying had gotten so bad, I even quit band practice (first clarinet) which was the only thing I enjoyed about school. (That, and watching the cheerleaders getting all sweaty as they worked on their routines, but this was true of every guy in school—even nerds like me.)

I ended up rejoining the band because my mom made me (thank you, Mom).

In college, I gravitated toward like-minded nerds, and had epic Minecraft sessions or League of Legend weekends. I wore an ironic t-shirt that stated ‘Nerds Я Us à’ with an arrow pointing toward whoever was standing next to me.

But because of my studies into how the body and brain react to external stimuli (including food, exercise and the environment), I started to workout some, taking spin classes where I was the only guy; I wasn’t going to risk the weights room where the ex-football players hung out. I even took a Taekwondo class and got a whole lot fitter, although I’m only ever going to be skinny. But I’d gotten rid of my braces at last, then bought some way cooler glasses, and finally, at the age of 21, I got laid. She was a science major like me, but used to challenge me to recite the Periodic Table while we were banging, “to make it last longer”. That got old fast. What’s wrong with 27 seconds? (I’m kidding—I could totally go 49 seconds, on a good day, unless I accidentally glanced up at my poster of Princess Daenerys, and then it was game over.)

I graduated MIT five years later without the girlfriend but with a doctoral degree in Computational Science and Engineering—my specialty being neurodegenerative diseases. I was officially Dr. Neil Watson, doomed to hear every Sherlock Holmes joke for the rest of my life.

“Dad, do you know who was Sherlock Holmes’ best friend?”

“What, son?”

Or maybe you’ve heard this one?

Sherlock Holmes is inspecting a bed. He says to Watson, “this bed has missing something.”

Watson replies, “No sheet, Sherlock.”

There are thousands of ‘no shit, Sherlock’ jokes—they’re all … well … shit.

“If Watson isn’t the most famous doctor, then Who is.”My personal favorite because it doesn’t mention Holmes. Plus, Dr. Who is a legit legend. David Tennant—just sayin’.

I did think about changing my name, but it would have broken Mom’s heart. Besides, no one forgot me, which was a bonus when I’d been forgettable my whole life.

When I left MIT, I missed my fellow gaming geeks; at the research lab where I worked now, everyone was very serious. Dementia is a serious disease—I watched my wonderful grandfather diminish every day for a decade—but because my work was so intense, I needed an outlet. And besides, Pops was the man who’d gotten me interested in science in the first place. He also loved comic book heroes and would have totally approved that each Wednesday evening, I dressed as my alter ego, Superman, and gamed with my college buddies in the Metaverse. I know CK is old-school, but you can’t beat the cape. I mean, Spidey is just a freak in a BDSM gimp-suit; but CK is an alien hiding as a human. I used to feel like that when I was growing up—a misfit with cool skills that no one knew about (except my tenth grade science teacher, Mr. Herbert. Thanks, dude.)

Halloween (or Hallowe’en, to be correct, since it’s a contraction of ‘All Hallows Evening’, ie. the night before All Saints Day) is a special time of year for nerds the world over. For one day a year, it’s totally cool to dress up in public as your favorite character from Dungeons & Dragons or Game of Thrones. No one bats an eye if you dress up as Conan or Thor or Captain America. And God bless whoever invented all those sexy little nurse/princess/zombie/witch outfits that girls wear.

Except it was August and boiling hot, but whatever. I was 27 years old, walking through Hell’s Kitchen dressed in Superman’s tights, cape, blue lycra and red leather boots on my way to a Comic Con event at the Javits Center. I’d gelled my black hair and wore my Clark Kent glasses. I felt good, I was owning it—and little kids were high-fiving me. One little dude tried to zap me with red Kryptonite and I had to explain that it’s only green Kryptonite that hurts Superman. His mom gave me a weird look and told me that he was five. But even aged five, I’d known the difference. Nerds aren’t what they used to be.

I was walking past the bus terminal when I zeroed in on two people ahead of me. One would have turned heads anywhere because she was a smoking hot brunette with a precision-cut, sleek and shiny bob, the kind Teri Hatcher totally rocked as Lois Lane. But that’s not the point. She’d slung a backpack over one shoulder, and the shady-looking guy following her had his eyes fastened on that bag. We were coming up to an alley and I had a real bad feeling about what was coming next.

“Halt!” I boomed. “It doesn’t take X-Ray Vision to see you are up to no good.”

The guy nearly jumped out of his skin but still managed to swipe the woman’s backpack, grabbing a pocket and dragging it from her shoulder.

I lunged for the guy as the woman swung around and nearly brained me with a heavy book she was carrying. Shifty dude was on the ground with my 155 pounds sprawled on top of him. He grabbed the woman’s ankle as he tried to wriggle free, and she toppled onto me, knocking the wind out of both of us.

I was too breathless to go after the weasely guy, mostly because she was squashing me, but also, now I’d seen her too beautiful face, I wouldn’t have been able to breathe anyway.

“Oh my God! I just wiped out Superman! I’m so sorry! I mean, thank you. Wow! Are you okay?”

She helped me to sit up.

“Thanks,” I gasped, staring myopically at my broken glasses. “I’m not really Superman.”

“Maybe not, but you’re my hero,” she grinned.

“There is a superhero in all of us,” I began, quoting.

“…we just need the courage to put on the cape.”

My mouth fell open when she finished the sentence for me.

“You … you can quote Superman!”

“Yeah, my kid brother is kind of a nerd.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “No offence.”

“None taken,” I smiled, my heart thumping happily.

“So…” she said, drawing out the word. “I’m Krista.”

“N-neil,” I stuttered, feeling like a shy nerd again in the presence of so much beauty.

“Thank you for saving me, Neil.”

“Technically, I saved your backpack.” Stupid, dumbass comment from my stupider dumbass mouth.

“Well, thank you for saving my backpack. Can I buy you a coffee? To really say thank you. Maybe a muffin, too.”

“With you? Coffee with you?” I mumbled, confused.

She stood on tiptoes and whispered words that warmed my nerdy heart, Superman’s most famous inspirational quote.

“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith first…”

She cocked her head on one side, waiting, her beautiful brown eyes staring into my soul as I swallowed hard.

“The trust part comes later,” I finished for her, and she smiled, pressing her lips against my cheek.

THE END