So I wouldn't say this guy and I are dating. But I would say that we read comic books on his bed together until 2am one night and then made out on New Years. I have no idea what that makes our Facebook status.  Mostly when I have a crush on a guy our interaction is limited to me making eyes at him over the top of my iBook in the bookstore cafe, but this guy is cute and quiet and he's a blogger, so it's good. His name is Mark.

Both Mark and I are too awkward to call each other so the only times I see him are when we bump into each other around town. I think we both secretly connive to make this happen a lot. Monday afternoon, I was changing my bike tire outside the bike store conveniently located right next to his work. My bike tire wasn't flat, but it seemed like a good day to change it just in case. I was also wearing a miniskirt even though it is extremely difficult to ride a bicycle in a miniskirt. I'm just giving you the facts. Coincidentally, Mark and I ran into each other out there and he invites me over to his house for vegan polenta.

The vegan polenta is delicious. We make a spinach salad, too, and he opens me a beer and we talk about the time he biked across the Gulf Coast, doing relief work after Hurricane Katrina. Words on the cover of Cosmo magazine suddenly seem applicable to my own life. "Swoonworthy" for example.

"In Biloxi, I stayed with 'Burners Without Borders'—the people who left Burning Man right after Katrina to start a food kitchen and do rebuilding," he says.

"Oh my God," I laugh, "Some poor people in Biloxi are like, 'My house was flooded in this tragic hurricane, how could things get worse? Here's how: 100 hippies are coming to rebuild it as an organic adobe hut.'"

Mark smiles, too. "Actually, they were trying to build people geodesic dome houses."

"I love geodesic domes!" I exclaim. This is sincere. I'll make fun of organic abode huts day and night but geodesic domes are the shit. Just about the only photo of my dad from college is of he and his friend Luigi leaning against a lightweight geodesic dome they built out of PVC pipe. The football team later stole this dome and put it over a statue in the center of campus as a prank. I've been into geodesic domes ever since I saw that picture as a little kid.

"Really?" says Mark. I nod vigorously. "What are you doing Friday night?"

"Nothing," I reply, too quickly.

"Well then," he says, "You should come with me. Wear white."  

We're supposed to meet up at the corner of NE 27th Avenue and Killingsworth. I'm wearing a white t-shirt and freezing on my bicycle. Killingsworth is a derelict street—mostly gas stations and convenience stores. On the corner of 27th, I wait in the parking lot of a squat charmless church as cars speed past. I can't see Mark anywhere. So, I ride across the cracked sidewalk and around the corner, not even sure what I'm looking for. Then I see it. Rising in the dark from behind a wooden residential fence: A glowing white dome.

I find the gate and pull my bike through. Totally mystified, I step through the open door. The space is full of people in white suits and white evening gowns, wearing sunglasses and holding drinks. A small child dressed like an Eskimo is serving grilled cheese sandwiches. I spot Mark. He looks like some sort of hippie ninja, with a white headband and white yoga pants. Okay, so he owns yoga pants, a minor—but not deadly—setback in his swoon-worthiness.

We hug and as we break apart he points to the dome's curving fabric walls. "Look!" he says, "This whole dome was built out of salvaged bamboo!" Indeed, the beams crisscrossing the  walls are long, dark-green bamboo shoots. They're held together with white duct tape. Wires twist around the bamboo, powering a turntable and bright lights. The DJ is playing Belle and Sebastian.

We stand underneath a shining silver heat lamp, making conversation about Buckminster Fuller for a bit. We take pictures of a girl dressed like White Cupid. Mark talks to the small Eskimo child cooking the cheese sandwiches. She has a lot to say about how great domes are, and I agree with everything she says.

Before I've even finished my first beer, Mark says he needs to head out. Friday nights he runs an electronica show on the local community radio station. I need to go to a friend's art installation. We leave the dome and part ways without kissing. I ride home alone after midnight and almost hope I get a flat tire.

Previously in NerdNerd.