Chapter Three - " Too Shy" (March 1983- a Month Later)
Song Suggestion: "Too Shy" by Kangajoojoo
Janine Melnitz
As a habit, I sang along with the small radio to keep myself focused on my tasks for the day. Dr. Venkman said he didn't mind as long as it wasn't too loud or distracting, so I kept a small one on my desk at a low volume.
During my short employment at Ghostbusters HQ, I became increasingly interested in Dr. Spengler. The more I found out about him, usually little bits and pieces from the other two from a conversation, the more I seemed to like him. I attempted conversations with him about work, but the dialogue was usually short. Dr. Spengler ofte. answered in one word or sometimes three to five words, and he seemed a grave workaholic. To this date, I never saw him when he wasn't working, and I admired his work ethic.
As I tapped my right foot to the song's infectious beat, I thought about my earlier interaction with him. Dr. Spengler always made me feel a little lightheaded when he was around for some reason and stirred up some lustful feelings when I observed his handsomeness. In a way, he had that classic male movie star attractiveness from the early forties- he was tall, dark haired with a pompadour and well dressed.
Earlier, I read a People magazine when he was underneath my desk plugging in some wires for my computer, and I observed him being handy. In retrospect, I could have plugged everything in, but it gave me a chance to speak with him that day.
"I bet you like to read a lot, too," I added, glancing up at Dr. Spengler from my magazine with a thin toothless grin on my face.
Without a hint of emotion in his deep voice, he responded with, "Print is dead." I felt like that was a strange comment but didn't ask for elaboration. Next, Dr. Spengler went around my desk and squatted behind my computer to check the connections.
I continued about how I liked to read a lot, and some "people thought I was too intellectual."
Suddenly, Dr. Spengler stopped working as he crouched in front of my desk and then glanced at me as he had just realized I was there, although we had been talking for a second.
Subsequently, I questioned, "I think reading is a fabulous way to spend one's spare time. I also like to play racquetball. Do you have any hobbies?"
"I collect spores, mold, and fungus," he answered in a very matter-of-fact voice.
After Dr. Spengler answered, I looked up at him from under my lashes and gave him a bright grin. When he walked away, I began using a nail file on my right hand. I remembered that I had reading to do for my class that night but chose to put that off for the time being.
Shaking my head ruefully, I asked myself while wrinkling my nose,
"Spores, mold, and fungus,why would you collect those things?"
Contemplating my future discussion with the unsuspecting Dr. Spengler, I thought about other conversation topics since collecting those things wasn't of interest to me. One ace I had up my sleeve was that I did know something about the computer system that the company ran as it was the topic of my studies. As a result, the week after, I attempted to use that as a conversation topic when I knocked on his office door; I patiently waited for him to say "come in" in his usual inattentive voice.
"Dr. Spengler, do you want me to install the updates to the —- on the two computers- one in the lab and one mine in reception. My professor at King's gave me a copy," I asked him; he was in his office one day, and I had a moment.
"Uhm, yes, Ms. Melnitz," he answered with his head down as he scribbled something down on his notepad, and I could see his dark, thick and shiny hair on the top of his head. I wondered how it would feel if I ran my hands through Dr. Spengler's hair and contemplated if he used a product in it. How did his hair stay in a perfect place on his head like that?
"Don't you want to know what I am putting on there?" I irritatedly demanded.
Dr. Spengler let out a sigh of frustration as his calculation didn't come out correctly. Swiftly, he dropped his pencil on his brown desk and tore the paper from the yellow legal pad. Evidently, Dr. Spengler was highly annoyed. He balled the paper up, threw it in the trash can across the room, but he missed it.
Today I wore a short blue skirt with a matching polka dot shirt and I knew that men generally liked my legs. I saw this as an opportunity to show them off to Dr. Spengler as I moved to pick the paper up very leisurely and put it in the trash can. As a result, when I reached for the paper on the floor, I bent down while facing the trash can so he could see my small yet tight butt and shapely legs.
"What did you ask me again, Ms. Melnitz," Dr. Spengler inquired, in an agitated tone of voice, unaware of anything I was doing. As I picked up his paper off the floor, I felt discouraged, and I noticed five or six crumpled-up documents next to the trash can from earlier that I hadn't observed, so I picked those up.
"Nothing, I'll ask Dr. Stantz; I didn't mean to intrude when you are working," I answered, smiling, taking time to stand up from my crouching position to emphasize my curves one more time.
When I peered at him, Dr. Spengler had started scribbling furiously on the next piece of paper, and I realized he hadn't looked up.
"Rats, I don't think he even looked up from his writing," I thought, "maybe he's married?"
There wasn't a ring on Dr. Spengler's finger when I looked before quietly leaving the room. Too engrossed in his work and didn't say anything as I went nor discerned it.
Now I was highly irked and contemplated the more pressing question- how would I obtain this solemn man's attention.
--
Dr. Egon Spengler
As a song about being timid played on the local radio station, I persisted in working on my newest project, reflecting on my history of interactions with women. I only focused on my studies, and hardly noticed that they never approached me. When I was eighteen, I received my bachelor's degree with honors from one of the country's best engineering programs- the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign on a free ride. Next, I started my master's in Chemistry at MIT on a full scholarship and graduated by the tender age of twenty. I finally completed my first doctoral program in physics again at MIT in 1971 and was offered a Columbia teaching position the following year. It wasn't until 1974 I finished my second doctorate in paranormal psychology while I taught physics full time.
When I met Peter Venkman at Columbia in 1974, I taught a Physics 101 level class he attended as an elective for his graduate program. He had a natural ease with women and an amiable personality with a sense of dry humor that I envied. Peter often attended the weekly study sessions I held. Until he brought it to my attention, it didn't dawn on me why until he told me that he went to the sessions because about sixty-five percent of the class were female. Peter wasn't a slouch for physics, but his jokes and flirting made it challenging to do my job when he was there.
As reserved as I am now, I was worse then. I didn't have any friends other than acquaintances I researched with, nor did I want any. Since I advanced through the school in an accelerated fashion, there wasn't time for friends. Watching Venkman charm women, much like my older brother Michael did, made me jealous as I had the same urges and desires as any hot-blooded man in his early twenties. When I attended undergrad school, women ignored me. On occasion, when they didn't, they asked me to study with them to receive answers.
Several girls told me that I was cute in undergraduate school, but I'd be more appealing if I stopped talking about science. Then Penny, a medium height curly-haired brunette with a voluptuous body promised to make out with me if I agreed to be her lab partner for the rest of the semester. Despite my awkwardness, I am proud to say that I decided.
"Oh, is this your first kiss," she asked, mortified, afterward. I didn't know to kiss her back when her lips were against mine but felt incredibly turned on as a baffled seventeen-year-old.
"Yes," I answered in a matter-of-fact voice.
Penny's face sank, and she asked how old I was. At the time, I was breathing heavily because of the delightfully sinful feel of her lips against mine; I could barely answer her when she confronted me.
"Seventeen."
"You are in an upper-level Biology class," she questioned, startled.
Shaking my head in the affirmative, I looked at her confused green eyes, but I didn't comprehend her disbelief.
"Egon, you are a great lab partner and apparently, brilliant if you are in an upper-level science class at seventeen..."
I don't remember the rest of what she said, but it boiled down to "let's be friends." However, Penny graciously taught me how to kiss. She also removed her bra, placed each of my hands on her creamy breasts, and allowed me to caress and squeeze them for a while as we kissed. As it was the first time I had touched a girl's chest, I almost came right there at first. I marveled at the feel of her beautiful breasts and liked playing with her nipples with my fingers as she moaned. My penis had become so hard I was afraid that I would explode right there, and Penny seemed to sense it, so our make-out session ended. That was good enough for me at the time, although I longed to have sex with her the rest of the semester as she was my lab partner. Of course, I had a massive crush on her, my first one.
"Egon, you might want to talk about other topics than science when you are speaking to girls," Penny advised me one day after studying for a little while. On that day, she had a black skirt and a fuzzy pink sweater where her perky breasts were hiding underneath, but I wasn't listening to her.
"Like what?" Yes, I asked that. My mind was on her breasts.
"Politics, the weather, music, sports, hobbies, or tell her how pretty she looks or tell her a joke," Penny replied, with a smile," it must be difficult advancing through school so quickly."
"Yo! Are you there," he asked jokingly and slammed a book on the lab table where I was working, causing me to jump.I came out of my reverie to Peter, trying to get my attention.
"Yes."
"What are you thinking about," he asked, interested, peeking at me with a bemused expression.
"Penny, " I replied quickly and involuntarily, then worked on my research.
"Who?" Peter questioned incredulously.
"A lab partner in one of my upper-level biology classes in my first year. She. Uhm.. bribed me to be her lab partner with the promise of ...Uhm... making out with me," I commented drily.
"And?"
"I said yes because I was a normal, extremely curious, libidinous sixteen-year-old. Of course, I developed a crush on her because it was my first kiss," I answered solemnly.'' It was only a one-time deal, and she didn't realize I was seventeen, and it was my first kiss."
"Was that the only class you had with her?"
"I think so. I can't remember," I replied, shrugging it off and going back to work. It didn't matter in the long run.
"What brought all of that on? I have never heard you say anything about Penny. Leslie, yes, Beth, yes," Peter innocently replied.
Again, I shrugged then Ray came into the lab holding an invention we were testing out.
Ignoring Venkman's comment, I asked Stantz about the equipment's test run as he strolled into the room.
"No, go," Ray admitted, putting it down on the lab table, " and what conversation did I walk into here?"
Scowling, I took the equipment up and examined it closely as I thought I had fixed it earlier.
"First kiss story," Pete replied laughingly, "It makes the puzzle pieces fit and may help explain why Egon is the way he is."
"What, reserved," Ray inquired with a grin.
"Yes, stiff around women, well, everyone, really," Pete analyzed.
As I worked on the equipment attempting to fix the issue, Ray and Peter spoke around me like I wasn't there.
Staying silent, I continued to work on the broken equipment, but then my parents, who I hadn't talked to in a while, popped into my mind. I realized that I hadn't called and felt a little guilty. Next, I thought about my upbringing. My parents showed some affection toward my brother as children or me. Still, they were more interested in their accomplishments as tenured professors of Chemistry in Cleveland and, eventually, ours. It wasn't that they weren't happy to have children; I think they didn't know how to be parents because they were obsessed with their careers, too. As academics, they drilled it into our brains that relationships were secondary and unnecessary. I was the only one who truly listened to their two children.
My mind meandered back to Penny for a minute as I methodically analyzed the problem with the equipment in my hands. I realized Peter assisted me with learning how to make small talk and other social skills, but I would never say that I mastered those skills completely or enjoyed them.
With his help, I went on my first date at age twenty-three with an attractive Biology graduate student friend of Venkman's at NYU, Beth. She was almost the same height as I had with wavy dark brown hair and maintained a little extra weight in the middle but had c cups for breast size. Beth became a close friend as we dated casually during her last semester, and she was the first woman with whom I had sex. Since she was a busy Pre Med student about to graduate, she was OK with just having a physical relationship.
One thing that I didn't like was the lack of control that sex required of its' participants. However, my lustful desires and needs were so immense from the build-up of the lack of intimacy with a woman I caved in to that desire very frequently with her, but Beth didn't complain. After graduating at the end of the semester, she went to medical school out of state to be a doctor, and I focused on obtaining a Nobel peace prize in the physics field. The most important lesson I learned at twenty-six with Beth was that I didn't like to be out of control of my life. If that meant I had to forgo coitus, I would.
A few years later, Leslie, a tall thin blonde hair beauty, came into my life. She was a high school art teacher in Staten Island, and I met her from one of my acquaintances in the computer science department at Columbia. Leslie was my first (and last) serious girlfriend. Foolishly, I gave her a small piece of my heart in a short amount of time, and it was a catastrophe. With the feeling of being in love, I felt absolutely out of control. One important thing about a scientist is the need to control the experiment at all times, and that is how I felt about life- I wanted to be in control. At that time, I realized that I wasn't cut out for love. Like my Uncle Floyd always suggested, I decided to "stick to science and research."
It wasn't that I wasn't attracted to women because I was an ordinary dynamic man, but I just ignored those feelings. Lately, my base desires and sexual urges had not only reappeared but with a preeminent intensity.
"Why are those feelings suddenly back," I wondered inwardly.
Peter Venkman
When Egon admitted to his first kiss, I was shocked. It was the first time in my nine-year friendship with him that he revealed details about another girl than his relationship with Leslie. Iggy barely spoke to me about her when they dated for three months. Since then, he threw himself into his work, more so, if that's possible.
Now, the only woman he came into contact with daily was Ms. Janine Melnitz, and any good psychiatrist can connect one's unconscious to conscious desires there. However, I didn't push the topic because I knew Iggy wouldn't talk about it.
Spengler never ever admitted if he had a crush on a woman since I had known him., and he never talked about sex, even when he was dating Leslie. It's not that he was asexual- his focus was on science, the pursuit of knowledge, and staying in control of his life, not his animalistic desires.
Regrettably, Egon would be better off if he gave into those feelings every once in a while because he had a large amount of pent-up sexual energy and frustration. It was almost like he was a "new wave" Mr. Spock from Star Trek, bottling up his feelings and primitive desires.
Officially, my observations on my secret Spengler-Melnitz attraction project were still inconclusive. Egon was like a volcano bottling up his emotions and desires that one day would erupt.
