Smart People are Toxic
The perspective of one disgruntled sapiosexual
I LOVE SMART PEOPLE, especially those bespectacled clever hunks. Call it a fetish, kink or whatever. It is what it is. The irony was that every relationship I entertained with intellectuals defied my expectations. My first boyfriend, Luca, was a brilliant college law student. Although most of his course mates preferred a conservative look, his style was influenced by the 90’s hip hop culture, complete with headphones. He had tried to woo me at a “Me Too” students rally. For obvious reasons, I declined. But he was handsome, so I allowed him to keep my number. From his social media updates, I realized he tutored students on campus beyond the legal curriculum. I am talking business, history, management, accounting courses — who was this guy? Intrigued, I attended one of his sessions, and boy, was he smart. When we locked eyes that evening, he had already won my heart. In a few days, we started dating.
It was good for the most part. Luca was generous with his eidetic knowledge, caring, and sensitive but was a reclusive home body. We rarely went on dates or trips. His privacy was sacred. He could defer a date night because he wanted to “meditate,” or have some alone time. I simply wanted to feel catered for and enjoy some princess treatment. I thought he would compromise — party a little, live a little — but he preferred the great indoors, fewer friends, and more academic pursuits. He thought my outdoorsy proclivities were trivial. When I partied with my crew, he complained that my academics would suffer, and alcohol would ruin my health in the future. At the time, I was unprepared to receive his cogent remarks. I grew weary of his constant reprobation and judgment. So, I ended the relationship. A girl had to live her life.
After our breakup, I dated randomly throughout college. There was nothing special or something worth preserving. Graduation followed, and I travelled south to work with Dad at his real estate company. I managed his human resources until I started engaging clients, and Dad granted me a seat at the table. I had to attend formal meetings and training seminars. It was at one of these events that I met Eric. He was my type to the T — sturdy, bespectacled, and a brainiac. He was a software engineer, and whenever he discussed innovations, algorithms, and nascent apps, I felt my heart beating twice as fast. It was easy to arrest his attention during training because I kept a steady eye contact that left him without a choice but to request my number. After some weeks of religious flirting, we started dating. For the first time since Luca, I realized I was in love.
Eric was the owner of a tech company that specialized in programming apps and selling them for incredulous prices. He was rich so our dates were classy and expensive. Unlike Luca, he loved to have fun. Every weekend, we had something in our itinerary, and it was awesome. I was finally enjoying the princess era. However, Eric had weird perks. He could always catch me in a white lie. He said things like, "You just lied to me. The way your pupils dilated, and how you looked away betrays you. Now tell me the truth.” Usually, he was right. Also, he was very clingy. He would make sudden, impulsive appearances during girls' night out or request a facetime if I delayed answering the phone. At first, it was fun that he loved being around me, but it slowly began to resemble insecurity and obsession.
When I did not comply with his demands, he would become enraged, cry, and break something and then plead for forgiveness. I allayed his fears by proclaiming that I would never be disloyal or unfaithful, but he did not need to know everything about my life or whereabouts. I had the right to privacy, at least sometimes. He would protest and then give me space and silent treatment. When he returned voluntarily, expensive gifts and care packages followed, and I would become butter in his hands. But Eric was worse than I contemplated.
I had this crazy inkling, a lingering suspicion that Eric was surveilling my life. Maybe it was something I watched on YouTube, but I needed a second opinion from experts. The results were appalling. Eric had illicitly tapped my phone. I took it a step further and requested that they combed my home. Unfortunately, all the teddies Eric had bought for me had micro-cams within them. Stupefied, I drove to his office and confronted him. He claimed they were precautions for my safety. But it was nothing more than a ruse to assuage his insecurities. I was infuriated. I felt violated, manipulated, and irritated by his actions. It was evinced by the amount of office equipment I destroyed before his security escorted me outside. I wanted to report to the police but a part of me didn’t want to ruin his life. I am still thinking about it.
Inclusive in my rumination was “why do I date guys who are too smart for their own good or for mine?” Maybe I am not a good sapiosexual or the best judge of character. Several months after my sordid encounter, I tried dating someone who was mundane, but our conversations were boring, mentally unstimulating, and tiresome. It did not outlive a month. Then, two days ago, Luca called me. He had been abroad for ages and recently returned to the country. He was heading down south and wanted to catch up for old times' sake. I am thinking about it. Maybe I am the toxic one.
