I'm writing this from a research vessel about ninety miles off the coast, where the WiFi is theoretical and my main form of entertainment besides work is losing at cards to a geologist named Sam who cannot be beaten and will not let anyone forget it.
I study things that live at the bottom of the ocean, in the dark, under enough pressure to crush a car, and I have spent my entire adult life becoming the person at parties who brings this up unprompted. There is a fish down there whose entire skeleton is basically jelly because that's cheaper than bone when nothing is trying to eat you from above. There's a shrimp that sees in ultraviolet colors we don't have names for. I think about this stuff constantly and I am aware that makes me insufferable at dinner.
I'm 38, I've been at sea more months than not for the last decade, and my dating life has suffered accordingly in ways I've mostly made peace with. I like people who are curious about ordinary things the way I'm curious about extraordinary ones. I promise your actual life, whatever it is, is more interesting to me than you think.
Tell me something about where you are right now that you've stopped noticing because you see it every day. I collect those. It's basically the same instinct that got me into this job in the first place.
Priya