P=MC^2 and Other Things They Didn’t Teach You in Physics

a-einst_maja

“It is true that M. followed me (to England) and her chasing after me is getting out of control… Out of all the dames, I am in fact attached only to Mrs. L.” This is a direct quote from a married man who, at his highest point had ten different mistresses, all at once, and constantly complained about all the “unwanted” (a direct quote) attention he often received by women. This James Bondish character, pre-twitter era Tiger Woods, a true stud muffin is—drum roll please– Albert Einstein.

Yes, that Einstein, the super physics nerd, the prototype for all the geeky characters in the Big Bang theory, yup, that one with the wild, bird-nest hair and unshaven face and madly unfashionable clothing.

Albert Einstein was married twice, and in both marriages, he had uncountable affairs, usually short, with various women who ranged from his secretaries to socialites, and even rumored to have had a four year long relationship with a Russian spy. Turns out he wasn’t only a genius in astrophysics who defied Newton’s law, but also a womanizer who defied the laws of attraction.

To all the men in the world: no, you don’t have to flash the charming smile of J.F.K, nor possess the massive steroid-filled muscles of Arnold Schwarzenegger, or find the potion of ever-lasting youth like George Colony, or even exhibit the stupidity of Charlie Sheen. In order to become a Casanova, you don’t have to have any of that. All you really have to do is have an IQ of over 169 (the limit is 168, I believe), discover the theory of relativity, and win the noble prize in physics– also don’t forget the pot-belly, that’s an integral part of Einstein’s sex appeal.

I have recently pondered about such sex appeal, contemplated about its mythical qualities, mused over Einstein’s, and perhaps many famous men’s sexual appetite, and after many sleepless nights I present a groundbreaking formula: P=M*C^2, where P is player potential, or Pimpin’ ability, M is one’s messiness index, and C is one’s celebrity index. C is self-explanatory: the more famous you are the higher your abilities are in making the ladies’ drop their pants. We measure this celebrity index by totaling the number of twitter followers you have. Every ten-thousand follower corresponds to one level of female-hormone inducing charm. Currently, Justin Bieber and One Direction are ranked highest according to our index. Hugh Hefner, don’t give up, keep tweeting!

Gasp...are those the open-toed sandals I saw on sale in Nordstrom?

Gasp…are those the open toe sandals I saw on sale in Nordstrom?

However, Messiness index is a harder concept, so follow me closely here. Messiness index refers to how messy a person looks. Our Einstein is on the higher end of the scale, walking around all day as if he just got out of bed. But don’t be fooled; messy men with mediocre looks have a large advantage in  the game. They lure you into their caves with their unkempt hair and average facial features, tricking you with their modest clothing and their nerdy obsessions over science, or math, or other brain torturing devices. At one point, with much naivety, you mistakenly believe that he is the one, for there is no way another woman would tolerate such otherworldly looks and behavior. You ask yourself, if he was a player, why doesn’t he care a bit more about his appearances? One needs to murder these thoughts when it first occurs, for it’s one thing to be played by a Kennedy, as you saw it coming and was well-prepared; it’s another to be played by a honest looking man, a wolf in sheep’s skin, a Warren Beauty in Gandhi’s clothing (although, according to our P=MC^2 formula, females should also be very cautious of Gandhi).

In the end, regardless of how smart, modest, honest, humanitarian a man may appear to be, he is—nonetheless– still a man. As in Einstein’s own words from his letters, “all the more funny when on one hand you research the cosmos and on the other hand you need to be engaged in so gracefully ludicrous worldly matters.” Yes, Einstein, we feel your Casanova pain.

Einstein...if he was a crew in Jersey Shore

Einstein…if he was a crew in Jersey Shore

 

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