The velocity of fairies

I've never understood the huge deal made over a first date. Relationship gurus have written pointless novels on stupid dos and don'ts that, while they certainly make sense, to me only add to the senseless anxiety. The worst first dates I've ever had have been the ones during which we both were trying to stick to these ridiculous rules, avoiding certain topics and questions, and then try to adhere to some inane phone-calling schedule once it's over. Besides -- for my money, nothing is more crucial than the second date.

One of the only things I vaguely remember from high school chemistry -- outside of the fact that it's impossible to spell my name using symbols from the periodic table -- is Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. The point of it, basically, was that it was impossible to know both the location and velocity of an electron at the same time.

Well, the first date is that electron. When you get home (or in some cases, I guess, when he goes home), you might think you know where everything stands. But it's not until that second date that you'll really know that velocity of where things are going. Do things seem to just be a repeat of Date One? Have you already run out of conversation topics? Or do you actually end the date still feeling like this is a guy with potential?

Even when the answer to that last question is yes for me, this also is where I usually manage to blow the deal. I almost never have problems getting that second date. The third, however, is the one that eludes me. So where are those second-date self-help books? There's a money-maker to be had here, people. Get cracking!

Meanwhile, I think I've just realized one piece of first-date advice that I probably should follow: Never bring up Heisenberg's uncertainty principle on the first date unless you're going out with a chemical engineer. Actually, don't mention it then, either, because the conversation will be gibberish from that point on. Never give an engineer an opening.

How's that for an ending double-entendre?