The other night I found myself in the company of men, and only men. And not just men, but scientists. This often is the case with my soirees in Nottingham. Me and a bunch of scientists drinking beer. While I do occasionally have to silently sit through bouts of conversations discussing archaea and gene transference, I for the most part find this company of men entertaining and witty (and thanks to them I now know words like “archaea” and “gene transference”).
Last night one of the boys was discussing his girlfriend troubles and the fact that she complains that he is too involved with his work.
“That’s not fair,” responded Scientist # 1 who has a tattoo of a DNA strand on his upper arm “Love me. Love my Science”
Stephane then made a lighthearted comment about how I should adhere to this motto, implying that I was not supportive enough of his career.
I looked at him in shock.
I don’t love your Science? You think that I don’t love your Science?
I moved to the middle of nowhere, bumblefuck England for your Science. I left Paris for your Science. I sacrificed my career for your Science. Don’t tell me that I don’t love your Science.
2 comments:
"Middle of nowhere, bumblefuck England"? We ain't friends no more, lady.
Yeah, I figured I'd lose some friends over that sentence. I was going to put "I moved to this lovely, bustling city, surrounded by green pastures..." but it didn't quite have the same literary effect I was going for.
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