The modern scientist's mating ritual: full hazmat gear, mysterious smoke, and the desperate plea of "I showed you my independent variable please respond." Dating in academia has evolved, folks—now we're flashing our experimental design instead of abs. Trust me, nothing says "romance" like a man in a gas mask holding what appears to be a homemade science weapon. The dependent variable here? His crushing loneliness when she inevitably ghosts him. Thirty years of teaching and I've never seen statistical desperation this palpable.