I had a three hour conversation today with a complete stranger about the theories of quantum physics. It sounds like a complete snore fest but it was one of the most enlightening, mind blowing conversations I've ever had. And the best part of this story is how it happened.

My computer malfunctioned today, so I called the Geek Squad for help. The tech decided to help me via remote assistance. Apparently, my problem isn't so easy to fix because it took a while. In the interim, we talked. And talked. And talked some more. Before I knew it three hours had gone by and I had never enjoyed a conversation more. He was smart and interesting and completely off the beaten path. It was amazing.

After it was over, I wondered why I never have conversations like these in the real world with the men I date. And then it occured to me that the men I date generally aren't interested in me - they are usually more interested in my body. I've never really met someone that talked to me because of what was going on in my mind. He said that I had a great mind and that I was more open to learning physics that I realized. I think that was probably one of the greatest compliments I've ever gotten. (Surely better than "Damn girl, you look hot tonight.") The best part is that I know he meant it - because if it was a line, what was he going to get out of it? The guy lives in another state, and has no idea what I look like. It was the first truly genuine thing any guy has said to me in as long as I can remember. And it felt great.

The thing is, I am far from stupid. I scored higher on the SAT's than 85 percent of my class. My college grades were high enough to get me in to the National Honor Society. I've written two books, published several freelance articles, and became the youngest staff member at my job ever to earn the promotion to reporter. And yet, none of the guys I've ever dated have ever told me I was smart, or validated my accomplishments. I've always felt like I didn't deserve better than that. I always felt like it was my job to downplay my successes while celebrating theirs. How sexist is that? And I knew it, but I did it anyway, out of some perverse sense of self-preservation and a need to be liked. I didn't want to rock the boat.

But a chance encounter with a complete stranger might have changed all that for me. I had an epiphany tonight about what matters in my life and about what's truly important to me. My life might be no more than a blip on the grand radar, but it's important to me, and I am important to those who love me. I don't want to spend the next decade of my life worrying about what someone else thinks of me or fearing that I might intimidate the guys in the office if I show them up. I'm done worrying.

It's my turn to shine.