You would be surprised at how many of my friends have a crush on Neil deGrasse Tyson. Yeah I’m talking about the astrophysicist science guy, who is most known for reclassifying Pluto as just a stupid floating rock. Yeah, the black guy.

Now I know some are thinking, Neil deGrasse Tyson? For real? What is it, his cherub-like face? Perhaps it’s his circa 1990 “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” haircut? Maybe it’s his trademark intergalactic vest he is known to rock? How could any woman with vision find anything remotely crush-worthy in Neil deGrasse Tyson? Well, let’s start with the fact that in addition to his take down of linear thinking within the spiritually devout science community in The Perimeter of Ignorance, Tyson still refuses to call himself an atheist, instead claiming that the only ‘-ism’ he holds above all is science; And how he was cool enough to coin the term Manhattanhenge (which ironically was done six days ago), which describes the two days when the sun aligns perfectly with the cross streets within the Manhattan street grid. Oh and let’s not forget being boss enough to reclassify the so-called ninth planet in the solar system.

Totally hot.

As Andrea Plaid, writer for Racialicious wrote earlier this year, Tyson is definitely crush worthy because he “… Doesn’t let bulls**t fly–and gets a bit impatient when it happens–because he’s just that no-nonsense? Oh yeah. Doesn’t create false dichotomies between science and art? Doesn’t, won’t, and refuses.”

Ladies, admit it: Neil deGrasse Tyson, particularly his knowledge of all these stars, the moon and quasars, makes him a pretty awesome dude. And while he can’t compete on the swagtastic, eye-candy level as say a Lance Gross or Idris Elba, he can definitely get “it.” Yeah throwing the cookies at a science nerd because he can actually calculate Newton’s law of gravity may seem a little extreme. But for many of us weary lady folks, who have gone through more than our share of the dudes who feel like that having a nice suit and car, a 401k plan and curly hair like Al B. Sure (whether it be real or with assistance from some sort of texturizer) is all that it takes to impress us, we know that the nerd dude is it.

I remember the first nerd I fell in love with. I had just turned 31 and had recently sworn off of men. By the time I was 30 I had been through a number of failed “relationships” including ones with drug dealers and car thieves, pretty boy womanizers, ones with several baby mommas, brainless sports and Xbox loving Neanderthals, dudes with a lots of cash but no heart, straight up bums, ones who were a momma’s basement away from being homeless and born-agains, and folks who were anything but Godly – basically any combination of the archetype of black manhood you could think of. Point is, I was done with men.

Anyway, I was at this folksy community harvest festival, probably looking sad and pitiful, when I was approached by this short pudgy dude with a Swatch watch and unidentifiable shoes. He was totally the opposite of what I was normally attracted too. I had it already in my mind that if this dude started talking to me, I was going to make an excuse and run away. But he said something funny. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but it made me smile. And since my smile was a dead giveaway that I was at the least amused, I had no choice but to engage in conversation. Well, we ended up talking for hours, laughing and joking at the event.