The Third Wheel Examination
Some spoilers ahead. Usual disclaimers apply.
If there ever was any doubt in Sheldon's mind about the accuracy of the description "bored to death", he had long forgotten about it, for before him was a pathetic specimen whose presence exuded the kind of tedium that could easily cause fatalities. As he lazily forked his salad, moving the greens this way and that, in a futile attempt to save himself from his impending ennui-induced demise, Sheldon contemplated that whoever crafted the idiom most probably had the likes of Carl in mind.
Carl, Sheldon thought with a sigh; of all the miscalculations he made that day, allowing Carl to join date night was the worst. Like his area of expertise, if one requires expertise to do psychology, Carl was brimming with so much insipidness his body, gargantuan muscles and all, could barely contain it. He was the poster boy for dullness. He was boredom personified.
For the sake of their experiment, Sheldon resisted with all the willpower he could muster the urge to interrupt Carl's intense eye contact with his girlfriend, Amy. It had only been one minute and Sheldon was already a mere three inches away from smacking Carl's head into the table, a violent impulse he was unfamiliar with but decided was the inevitable, reasonable reaction of anyone unfortunate enough to be in close proximity to Carl.
Yet, the object of Sheldon's vexation to anyone else in the restaurant was actually the opposite of boredom. Dressed in a crisp black suit, a white button-down shirt and a perfectly-styled, jet-black hair, the psychologist was the epitome of charm and magnetism. In his handsomely aquiline face was a smile that brought life even to the dead-eyed, overworked food server, who ushered them with a never before seen energy in the establishment. Words flowed smoothly out of his mouth and into the ears of his listeners, who in their delight at hearing his clever utterances, stutter with nervousness in an effort to match the allure and wit of the exceptional conversationalist that was Carl.
Amid the onslaught of rainbows and unicorns and fantasies Carl's existence brought towards the people around them, Sheldon remained oblivious. Where others saw an impeccable attire, he saw wrinkles in seven places so unsightly it made him cringe with an accompanying itch to throw an iron board to his face. Where the waitresses admired a sharp face and an energizing smile, he squirmed at the display of all the wrong angles and asymmetry. And, where listeners heard enchanting remarks, he endured an overwhelming desire to scream at the superfluity and at the most objectionable elocution he had the misfortune of hearing. In short, to Sheldon, he should have been just like any other person, negligible and annoying in their mediocrity, predictability, and inanity. But, he wasn't because Sheldon made the mistake of inviting him to his dinner date with Amy.
Scratch that; Sheldon made no mistake. Blame it all to the temptress that was science and her escort promise of a free meal, which presented themselves that afternoon in Amy's lab.
He visited his girlfriend shortly after lunch to discuss her motion that they should try the new vegetarian restaurant in town for date night. They had just finished evaluating the merit of each other's arguments and was about to put it to a vote when a stranger interrupted them.
"I'll be damned," the stranger said, "Amy?"
Sheldon's eyebrows shot all the way up to his hairline. Irrational as it was, hearing a stranger call his beloved by her first name annoyed him. He wanted to dismiss him right then and there and tell him off, beginning with "Oh, you'll be damned, alright" but before the words could escape his mouth and the thoughts continue to primal paths, he saw Amy frowning the same way he was at the stranger. Best to let her handle the situation, besides the person all but dropped one sentence on them, it would be premature to go Texan at him right away.
"Yes? I'm Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler," Amy replied. "Do I know you?"
The man, who by his demeanor was an obvious academic, adjusted his spectacles and walked closer to where the couple was standing. "You really have forgotten. That's a first for me. It's Carl."
Amy merely squinted at him, trying hard to remember who he was.
"Dr. Carl Fuller," he said, extending his hand towards her. "We went out years ago. Three times actually when we were still doing our postdoc. Remember?"
It was a statement that brought Sheldon's already raised eyebrows closer together. He eyed the guy from head to toe, wondering if there was any truth to his claim.
"Oh. Yes, I remember," Amy said, slightly amused as she sensed Sheldon turn abruptly and questioningly at her. "Carl, the psychologist."
"A psychologist," Sheldon grinned smugly, shrugged and returned to the board where the notations on their restaurant discussion were outlined, his earlier hostility forgotten. Whatever her reasons for going out with a psychologist were, Sheldon knew the guy was no threat. "You're in the wrong building. The humanities is on the other side of the campus," he said, with his back to him.
"Taunting. That's an interesting response. Let me guess, you're Amy's boyfriend," Carl said. "A few minutes with you and I can tell you more about yourself than your own mother could."
"Oh, please. You said it yourself. You guessed. Besides, my relationship with Amy is hardly a difficult deduction, with her propensity to invade my personal space, for starters," he retorted.
Now acutely aware of how closely they were standing, Amy put some distance between her and Sheldon. "Carl is a clinical psychologist. And didn't I tell you that you can't go around telling people that what they're doing isn't science?" with a lower tone and a side smirk, she added, "at least not to their faces."
Not privy to Amy's side remark, Carl continued, "You really can't point me to the humanities when your own girlfriend is doing neurobiology. Right, Amy? We are allied sciences. Our fields are practically married, it's no wonder we hit it off when we first met."
"I see that," Sheldon nodded, "biology and psychology. My apologies. They are on the same level, aren't they?" He smirked, proud that he was able to use sarcasm.
Amy turned to glare at Sheldon only to bump at his chest as he apparently had moved nearer to her again. Unable to suppress a smile at his unconscious movement, she looked back at Carl, eager to get him out of her lab so she could be alone with Sheldon again.
"Can I help you with anything?" she inquired.
"Actually, it's my first day here at Caltech. I saw your name on the directory and thought I should give you a visit," Carl said, "And wow, you're just as intriguing as before. We should go out sometime. My treat."
"And you, you're as confident as I remember," she said, shocked by his brazen invitation, in front of his boyfriend no less.
But, the boyfriend, it turned out was not. "Actually, we're going out tonight," Sheldon said, "you should join us."
Before Amy could object, Carl replied, "Great, I'll pick the two of you in here after work then. See you." And, with a wink directed at Amy, he was out of the door in no time.
"Sheldon!" Amy raised her voice at Sheldon.
"Fine. I yield. We're going to that new restaurant," he said, waving his hands up in surrender.
"That's not what I'm talking about. Why did you invite him on our date?"
"He's a psychologist, Amy. It's too great an opportunity to be passed on."
Amy's eyes narrowed into slits. She stomped her foot once and crossed her arms in front of her chest, demanding an explanation. Sheldon knew that it's a gesture that was meant to intimidate him. Instead of intimidation, however, Amy's appearance roused a different feeling in him. He stared at her. Her hair was tied up with a few loose strands on her neck; her lab gown, unbuttoned. Mesmerized, he grabbed the fabric, pulled her closer, and started buttoning the coat.
"I was thinking," he cleared his throat, "we could do that falling in love experiment on him and you. Talk about disproving a psychology study to a psychologist's face."
Not allowing herself to be distracted by his proximity, she answered firmly, "No. I am not revealing intimate details of my life to Carl. He's practically a stranger."
"Exactly," Sheldon said, as he finished the last of the buttons. "And he's clearly interested in you so it won't be hard. Besides, I'll be nearby to record my observations."
"No. You already disproved that experiment with Penny. "
"Please," he countered, smiling seductively at her. "And that trial at the apartment was doomed from the beginning I could not fall in love with Penny even with a gun at my head.
"I think Penny will hold herself at gunpoint if you did. And it's still a no, Sheldon."
"Fine. Just the staring part then. Kellerman's experiment has more credibility than those questions anyway," he negotiated.
Amy sighed, knowing that her boyfriend was not going to let it go. "Alright. Two minutes then, that was the original experiment."
"Could you do four minutes? Please."
"Three. And that's it." Amy said with finality.
"Alright," he conceded. "If it makes you happy, we can give him the puzzles, too and compare his results with that of Penny and Leonard and the monkey, of course. This time, we'll have psychologist versus ape. That's an interesting inquiry."
At that, Amy's resolve faltered. Her previously stern face broke into a wide grin. She stood on tiptoe and gave Sheldon a quick kiss on the lips and said, "You really do know how to work my buttons." Missing the innuendo, Sheldon returned her smile and tapped her shoulder. "Now, off to work with you, little lady. I'll see you later."
As he stepped away, he heard her say, "What will you do if I fall in love with him?"
"Amy, that's absurd," he stopped and snorted but she just looked at him, expecting an answer. "I'll give up Star Trek."
"Really? That's my love's worth?"
"Yes," he said, proudly. "In fact, I'll add Star Wars in that, too."
Amy rolled her eyes. "You're only making it more and more tempting, Sheldon."
"I am, aren't I? Hmm…I suppose I'd give up comic books, too. There will be no fun for me until I get you back."
"You're gonna get me back?"
"Yes," he replied matter-of-factly, "I love you." And, with that, he gave her one last smile and walked away.
Although Sheldon was wont to admit it, he actually wanted to do that love test. Ever since he arrived at the conclusion that he's in love with Amy, his curiosity about love had increased so much he was horrified at the amount of researches, even from the field of social sciences, that he had read on the topic. Is romantic love something that people feel only towards one person, in his case only towards Amy? Or if it possible to replicate the emotion, the feeling given the right conditions? He repeated these questions in his head over and over that when Amy brought up the article, he jumped at the opportunity.
But, just as he expected, the experiment and its results were absurd. He realized that he would always be the exception when it comes to those feelings. A genius like him could not really be the subject of such tests. In fact, he was now convinced that he would not have experienced love if he didn't meet Amy. That vixen.
He had lingering questions however. He knew that Amy is head over heels in love with him as he is with her and that she's as much a genius as he is but could the experiment have any effect on her? He did not want to entertain the question since a large part of him believed that he already knew the answer. But, the uncertainty, little as it was, was eating at him like a buzz in his ear that wouldn't go away for how could he be sure when, other than what he feels towards Amy, he knew nothing about love. Now more than ever, he had a chance to answer it with a guy who managed to coax three dates out of his girlfriend whom he was certain was as immoveable as him when it came to romantic feelings, at least before they met.
The worst of questions indeed, the what ifs, drove him to that maddening situation that night. He was supposed to sit in a different table to let the two subjects do the mutual gaze test without interruption but he found himself glued to his seat beside Amy. He insisted that they do it anyway so their night won't be wasted. And, boy, that smooth talker was one willing subject!
He glanced at his watch and sighed exasperatedly. Only one minute left now. We'll see.