I’ve been so focused on my business with China lately, that when Monty asks me what’s up in my personal life, I have to think hard to remember the last time I took someone out on a date. It was two months ago. It was the daughter of one of my MIT profs who was in Palo Alto for job interviews, and I had agreed to take her to dinner. She was attractive and friendly, and I was so bored I faked a migraine at the end of the night. There are a few women who regularly text me to see if I want to “hang out,” and occasionally I do “hang out” with them, as a means of relieving stress, and then I leave as soon as they start asking me if I ever get lonely.

I don’t get lonely. Ever. But I do miss certain people, including Monty. He has established himself in Chicago, as the tech guy at a major venture capital firm. I keep asking him to come out to Palo Alto to work with me, but he refuses. It’s a shame.

I choose to tell Monty that there’s no one special at the moment, and that a high-end matchmaking service routinely reaches out to me to see if I’m interested, but I’m not.

“Why aren’t you interested?” he asks.

The restaurant he’s chosen is crowded and noisy, and it’s unlike him to pick a place like this in Midtown Manhattan. Close to both of our hotels, I suppose. I pretend I didn’t hear him as I finish my glass of Malbec.

He leans in further across the table and speaks louder. “Why aren’t you interested in the matchmaking service?”

We don’t talk about our personal lives very often, as there is so much more to talk about, but ever since Monty started dating a woman in Chicago that he really likes a few months ago, he has gotten more inquisitive.

“Busy,” I say.

“That’s exactly why people use the service.”

“Is it?”

“You aren’t hung up on that model, are you?”

“God, no.”

“She still stalking you?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking. I haven’t responded to her texts or calls for months, so she hasn’t done it much lately.”

“Are you hung up on someone else then?

He studies my face and I give him as blank an expression as possible. “Like who?”

He watches me for another beat, before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. Women still ask me to introduce them to you, you know. Katie’s friends. Especially since that Ted Talk.”

“It was a TedX. I didn’t even know people watched those.”

“It’s on YouTube. Apparently you looked ‘dreamy’ and seemed ‘really nice and articulate for a nerd’. I don’t tell them that it’s because you’re giving a talk and not talking to or with anyone.”

“You don’t think I’m nice.”

“Course I do. It’s just never been a priority for you to convey it.” He gets all googly-eyed for a second. “Katie’s nice.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” He appears to be waiting for me to say something else, but I don’t.

“It is customary to say that you look forward to meeting my girlfriend.”

“I do look forward to it, but the last time I met one of your girlfriends you told me you were done introducing me to your girlfriends.”

“You told her she was puerile.”

“And she had no idea what it meant. Which, as I recall, was one of the reasons you gave for breaking up with her right after that. You make it sound as though I’m only rude to your girlfriends. I thought your co-worker was a total asshat too. What was his name? Daryl?”

“Correct, I did decide that I’d never introduce you to anyone I cared about even the slightest bit ever again.”

“Which is why I don’t bring it up. Although, to be clear, I would like to meet the woman who makes you this happy.”

“I am happy,” he says, smiling. “You should give my sister a call,” he says, without signaling a change of subject.

I choke on my risotto. “Really?”

He is watching my reaction. I wipe my mouth with a napkin. I think my teeth are chattering.

“Yeah, I mean, I know you’re busy. But I worry about her out there on her own.”

“I thought she had a roommate.”

“She does, but I mean, she…You know, she’s so free-spirited, Oly is, and I just…”

Something about his expression makes me sick to my stomach all of a sudden. “Did something happen?”

“No, no. Not really. My Mom just mentioned that she was doing some modeling gig with a photographer, you know, and he was…unprofessional. She got out of there okay, but I guess it spooked her.”

My hands are balled up into fists on my lap. My ears feel hot. I have no idea who this photographer is, but if he were in front of me right now, he would be the first person I’ve ever kicked the shit out of, and I would feel so good about it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, carefully. “What can I do?”

He polishes off his bourbon, and looks at me for a long time, before saying: “Just let her know that you’re there for her, I guess. As a friend of the family, you know. So it doesn’t feel like such a big city.”

“Of course. I’m sorry I haven’t done that yet—I didn’t think you’d…”

“I never told you to stay away from her.”

“Right, no, I guess…” I feel my cheeks getting warm, and I can’t stop from laughing nervously. “You’re just such an overprotective dick about her with most guys, I figured I should keep my distance.”

“Why would that be?” He leans forward again, hunched over as he squints up at me. He has watched too many mafia movies. “You feel guilty or something?”

“Course not, I have nothing to feel guilty about. Just saying you’re an overprotective dick about her and I’d rather not deal with it.”

He seems satisfied with that explanation, so I feel comfortable breathing again. He hails the waitress and asks for more wine and bourbon. He moves on from the subject of his sister to that of his own business deals. I can have this conversation in my sleep, so I let my mind go to Olivia.

She has been living within driving distance of my house for over a year now. Not that I would have had much time to visit her, but now that I’ve got the green light from Monty, I need to make the best of this opportunity and think carefully about how to approach this.

I can’t honestly say that I’ve thought about her every day over the past couple of years since I saw her dance in Pittsburgh, or since I saw her dance with the Bay Area Ballet last fall, but she’s like an all-time favorite song that passes through my consciousness on a regular basis, even when I don’t purposefully stop to listen. I smile and savor the thought of her. Whenever I hear a piece of music that stirs me, I wonder how it would affect her, how her body would move to it. Of course, she makes regular appearances in my fantasies—that goes without saying. But I’ve felt good, just knowing that she’s out there, and that one day we’ll be together again.

I guess I just didn’t expect one day to come so soon.

I’m right in the middle of launching a foundation and I’m at a critical juncture with my food tech play. The timing isn’t ideal. But I’ll make it ideal.

Suddenly I feel a little nervous about seeing her in person. This young woman who was just a toddler when we first met, who more than once put rubber snakes in my sleeping bag when I slept over at their house in an attempt to scare the piss out of me. But I will apply my no-fail entrepreneurial spirit to winning her over. Every success story in Silicon Valley begins with a nerd who never believed for a second that the thing he was creating wasn’t possible.

I know that the fact that we’ve known each other since childhood is both a blessing and a curse. She feels comfortable with me, and that’s good. I understand things about her that other men don’t, and that’s good. But one of the things I understand is that she will always think of me as Johnny B. Nerdballs, and that’s not great.

It’s a hurdle, not a brick wall.

I’m ready to make a run at it and take the leap.