This is exactly why I avoid complications. Storms are easier. Storms don’t walk into your life wearing tight pants and emotional damage and suddenly make you question everycarefully constructed routine you’ve built over the last four years.
After twenty more minutes of staring at the same paragraph without absorbing a single word, I grab my phone and do what I should have done three days ago. I look up Lila’s website. Her contact page lists an email address for “research inquiries only.”
I click on the email address and stare at the blank composition window. My cursor blinks expectantly.
Subject:
What do I even put as the subject line? Apology for my idiot friend? Research proposal from that guy whose wingman humiliated you?
I type,Potential Research Collaborationand then delete it immediately. Too formal. Too much like I'm trying to pretend nothing happened.
I try again,Apology and Research Proposal.
No, that sounds like I'm using the apology just to get to the proposal. Which I am, sort of, but I shouldn't advertise that fact.
“I'm not a creep, I swear.”
Definitely not.
After five more attempts, I settle on, Regarding our conversation at the Met Society meeting.
Vague enough that curiosity might compel her to open it rather than delete it outright.
Now for the actual email.
Dear Ms. Brooks.
Too formal?
Lila.
Too familiar.
Dr. Brooks.
She's not a doctor, you idiot. This is exactly the kind of academic elitism she probably despises.
I settle back on Ms. Brooks, and forge ahead.
I wanted to reach out regarding our conversation at the Meteorological Society meeting, which was unfortunately cut short. First, I want to apologize for Lucas's inappropriate comments. They were completely out of line and misrepresented my intentions entirely. I assure you my interest in your work is purely scientific and professional.
I pause, reading over what I've written. It sounds stilted and defensive, like I'm overcompensating. I delete the last sentence and try again.
I want to be clear that my research proposal stands on its own merits. Your observational data on multiple vortex formations aligns remarkably with the theoretical models I've been developing. This isn't about personalities or Lucas's misguided attempt at...whatever that was.
I pause again. This isn't right. It's too clinical, too detached. If I want her to actually consider working with me, I need to be honest.
I delete everything and start over.
Ms. Brooks,
I owe you an apology. What happened at the Met Society meeting was unprofessional and embarrassing—for both of us, I imagine, but particularly for you. Lucas has a habit of treating everything like a reality TV show plot, and I should have anticipated he might say something inappropriate.
The truth is, I genuinely believe our research could complement each other in ways that would significantly advance tornado prediction. Your observational data shows patterns my theoretical models predict but can't verify without field testing. And my algorithms might give you prediction capabilities beyond what's currently available.
If you're willing to consider a collaboration despite that awkward first meeting, I'd appreciate the opportunity todiscuss it further—by email, phone, carrier pigeon, smoke signal—whatever communication method you prefer.
