My brain is sexier than yours

Sometimes I hate girls.  Especially the ones with large breasts and narrow hips who wedge themselves in between me and the man I am talking to.  They are skinny enough to slither in and then their breasts are at eye level with the guy and it doesn't matter what stupid thing they say.  They have his attention and I don't anymore.  Well that used to be what I thought anyway, but I recently had a change of attitude.  

Hilary told me my brain was one of the sexiest things about me and that I should use it accordingly.  It took a while, but I decided she might have something there.  I read the New Yorker most of the way through each week.  I read the Wall Street Journal every day.  I can talk movies, politics, travel, current events based on those two things.  I am a scientist so I can talk statistics of speed dating, the psychology of flirting, nerve control of head turning while kissing, and oh yes, antibiotic resistance of course too and a few other technical topics like string theory, computers, software, Bayesian inference, optics, wireless networking and so forth. My dad is an engineer who launches rockets and tells me all about it so I can talk outer space, satellites, defense. My mom teaches me about history and theories of government as well as religion.  From my sisters, I learn about online teaching, lactation, fashion, graphic design, art, and David Byrne.  My brothers teach me about the Navy, nursing, Dubai, South American ecotourism, music and sports.  I take pottery, I read books, I work out, I hike, I remodel my house and change the brakes and shocks on my car.  My backyard was turned into a productive garden by me.  I have roofed houses, poured cement, driven across the country, traveled more extensively outside the US than many Americans and I have many international friends who love telling me about their countries because I listen to them. I have invested a lot into my intellect and I think I can pretty much talk to anyone about anything.  

So now, instead of letting a pair of large breasts run me off entirely, I wait for the initial ogling to subside some, resume intelligent conversation and ultimately, the girls with the large breasts disappear.