Some people are meant to be together—but in this week’s episode, our storytellers discover they’re definitely not a match made in heaven.

Part 1: When Mark Pitzer gets splashed with methyl cyanide, he turns to his new girlfriend in hopes of comfort.

Mark Pitzer, Ph.D. is a Neuroscientist at the University of Portland. For the last 25 years he has worked to better understand and treat diseases of the brain, including Parkinson’s and Huntington’s diseases. Currently, his lab studies how developmental influences in the womb can alter the number of dopaminergic neurons involved in reward, movement and social behavior. Mark is also an award-winning teacher who uses the findings from the fields of learning and neuroscience to invoke enduring enthusiasm, curiosity, and deep learning in his college students.

Part 2: Hoping to impress his scientist date, Adam Selbst plans the perfect outing: the Central Park Squirrel Census.

Adam Selbst is an award-winning designer, writer and storyteller. He’s performed on The Moth, PBS, Risk!, The Artichoke and a whole bunch of other shows around NYC. He also ran the popular Big Irv’s Storytelling Roadshow from his bodega art collective in Williamsburg, Brooklyn for over 10 years, before retiring the space during the pandemic. He currently resides in a big house with, like, a thousand friends and a single problematic cat.

Episode Transcript

Part 1

When I was 23, I moved from Kansas to Chicago and I was enamored and in awe of the big city, of the crowds and the architecture and just the movement of it. I was also enamored by a woman named Clarissa.

I had met Clarissa two weeks in of being in Chicago. And to me, she was like a Hollywood movie star. She wore these high‑heeled shoes, these yellow high‑heeled shoes and when she walked down the sidewalk, it looked like she was walking across the stage to pick up her Academy Award.

We went out on a couple dates and I really, really liked her and I really wanted to be her boyfriend. But there were two problems. One, me. I was a kid from Kansas. And, number two, me again, I was a student. I moved from Kansas to Chicago to be a graduate student. So I didn't have anything going for me except that I worked in a neuroscience lab.

So, my tiny, little Kansas brain thought that I could impress Clarissa. If I just made like a quick major scientific breakthrough, she would want to be my girlfriend. So I got to work.

Mark Pitzer shares his story at Alberta Rose Theater in Portland, OR in September 2024. Photo by Kiki Sanford.

It was October and me and Dean, Dean was my PhD advisor. Everybody wanted to be Dean. Dean was the funniest guy in the room and the smartest guy, a mixture of Carl Sagan and John Candy. We were working on measuring dopamine in this chemical analysis machine. And what we had to do was clean it. I was holding this filter, this tube, and he had just a beaker, about a cup‑and‑a‑half, two cups of a solvent, acetonitrile. I'm holding it, he's pouring it, and the beaker slips out of his hand, hits the ground, hits the floor and all the acetonitrile splashes up on me, down my legs and into my tennis shoes.

It's cold and I can smell it's kind of sweet. I laugh out loud. And Dean, who's as cool as a cucumber, freaks out.

He said, "Quit laughing. Get washed up. Meet me in the lab immediately.”

I run into the sink and I clean myself off. I take my shoe and pour all this nitrile out and I hop down the hallway to the office. He's sitting in the office chair with the phone on his lap and he's got the receiver and he's cupped the microphone.

He goes, "Sit down." And I sit, eye to eye to him, knee to knee on the couch.

And he goes, "Ask them if acetonitrile is dangerous."

I put the phone up to my ear and I said, "Hello?"

And a woman said, "Poison Control, how can I help?"

I said, "Is acetonitrile dangerous?”

And she goes, “Acetonitrile,” and I can hear her flipping through some pages. “Acetonitrile, acetonitrile, hah. Whoa.”

I said, “What?”

She goes, “Methyl cyanide is dangerous.”

I go, “Yeah, I said ‘acetonitrile’.”

She goes, “Honey, methyl cyanide is acetonitrile.”

And I said, “Is it dangerous?”

She goes, "Don't use it!"

And I go, "But is it dangerous?"

“Well, it says here that it absorbs quickly through the skin, and also, if you inhale it, it goes directly into the bloodstream. And it takes 14 hours for the methyl group to pop off the cyanide group, and then the person has cyanide poisoning.”

I said, “Is there a treatment?”

And she said, “Well, it says here that based on the concentration, the person with cyanide poisoning goes into a coma and then comes out, or dies.”

And I said, "Is there a treatment?"

And she goes, "Nope. No antidote. Don't use it. There's lots of other solvents. Can I help you with anything else?"

“No.” I hung up.

Dave heard every word. He grabbed me by the shoulders and he goes, "You're fine. You're fine. You're going to be fine. I'm going to the Cook County Medical Library right now. I'm going to look up every article on methyl cyanide and I'll call you if I learn anything else.” And he left.

He was selling it and I wasn't buying it. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't catch my breath and I felt like I was floating. I just didn't know what to do. There was nobody else around.

And I left the lab, I left all my stuff. I walked out of the science building. I walked across the street, got on the number eight bus and headed home.

I just wanted to talk to somebody. All these people on the bus, I just wanted to turn to somebody and say, "I've got something, I've got something wrong.”

I got home. I live alone. I wanted to pick up the phone and call home. I wanted to call my mom and dad, but I knew if my mom found this out, she would have a nervous breakdown. And what could my dad do? What could my brothers do? What could my friends do?

So, I pulled out a ballpoint pen and a yellow legal pad and I wrote everybody letters. I said, "I love you and I will miss you."

And when I got the letter to Clarissa, I put down the pen and I picked up the phone and I called Clarissa at home.

I said, "Clarissa, it's Mark."

She goes, "Mark, how are you?”

"Ah, I might die."

She goes, "Yeah, we all might die."

I said, "Clarissa, I might die tonight."

And she goes, "What?”

“I have some level of cyanide poisoning."

She goes, "Well, go to the hospital. Quick! Go!"

I said, "There's nothing that can be done. And I just wanted to call and say I really, really like you. I know we've only been on a handful of dates, but I was wondering, would you come over and stay with me tonight?"

She didn't say anything for a long, long time and then she said, "No."

I said, "What?"

She goes, "I have to be at work real early, and you know how my boss is."

And I said, "I might die."

She goes, "It's a really important project.”

And when I hung up, my chest just tightened and I felt so alone. I was worried about what would my parents, if I died, what would their lives be like? Who's going to find me in my apartment? Who's going to find my body? All of these ideas are swirling around my head and I walked into the bedroom. I lay down and somehow I fell asleep.

The next thing, I woke up and it was morning. I turned and I got out of bed and I felt great. I felt better than I'd felt in the long time. I walked right over to the phone and I picked it up and I called Clarissa at work.

And she goes, “Mark, you're alive!”

I go, “Yeah.”

She goes, “That's great.”

I go, "Pretty good, so far. Yeah." And I said, "Clarissa, but I just have to say something, something very important.”

"What is it?"

I said, "We need to break up."

She said, "Okay."

When I got off the phone, I mean, it was clear. I was chasing something that didn't even want to be chased. I was chasing Clarissa. And Clarissa, with her yellow, high‑heeled shoes, was like a glossy cover to a magazine.

I got dressed, went directly to lab. Dean was there working on the analysis machine and I stepped up. I started working with him.

And I said, "You didn't call."

He goes, "Nope. I told you you were going to be fine."

I said, "I didn't know I was going to be fine."

And he goes, "You're a graduate student. You will never know that you're fine."

We kind of laughed and we left it out there in the ether and we never talked about it again, ever again. So, I never made a scientific breakthrough that month, that year, never. I have maybe, at best, moved the needle just a little bit. It took me years of doing science to realize if you're lucky, you get a little piece that you can push into that massive puzzle.

About the time that I finished all my experiments and I was writing up my dissertation for my PhD, I met another woman, Jody. Jody is not flash. Jody glows from deep down in her heart. And I can guarantee you, if I pulled out my phone right now in this theater and I called up Jody, and I said, "Jody, I'm in trouble," Jody would jump out of her Birkenstocks to be here.

Thank you very much.

Part 2

Hey, guys. Thank you so much, Story Collider. This is one of my favorite shows to be on. I want to be straight with you right off the bat. This is a science storytelling show. I'm not a scientist. I'm, in fact, not even particularly well educated. I'm actually not very smart. The issue, though, is that I find myself very attracted to smart women.

Everyone's got what they like. You know, big boobs, brunette. I'll be honest. I like that stuff, too. But give me a woman with multiple graduate degrees, like, that's my fucking jam. Set me up with someone like that.

But it's a little difficult because— all right. Look, when I say I'm not well educated, let me elaborate. I have a painting degree from a state university. They had us read something like four books the entire time, and I didn't read any of them. I don't even think they were hard books, but, you know what? I wouldn't know.

Adam Selbst shares his story at Pier 57’s Discovery Tank in New York, NY in December 2024. Photo by William House.

I love intelligent women, but I am who I am. It's a little bit difficult, but, you know what? I try my best.

A couple of years ago, I met this woman, Jamie, and Jamie had all of the qualities that I look for in someone to date. First, she was beautiful, second, she had a PhD, and third, she was willing to date me. Against all odds, we started actually going out.

At first, we're going and we're doing normal date stuff. I'm bringing her to a bar. We're doing banter. I'm pretty good at that. I think things are going medium because at the end of every date, she would ask me out again so I thought I'm doing okay.

But whenever I went to kiss her, she would sort of like turn her head and give me her cheek. Do you know that move? It happened a few times.

Eventually, I go up to her and I screw up my courage. I'm like, “So, Jamie, look, are you even attracted to me?”

She goes, “Oh, my God, Adam, I think you are so funny.” But then she asked me out again.

So I'm like, all right. You know what? I don't have a lot of time left. There are only so many times someone this smart and this pretty is going to go on a date with me, unless I really up my game. So I rack my brain. I'm like, “What am I going to do? What's the big date that's going to win this?”

So I'm racking my brain. I'm like, “What is the big date that's going to win her over?”

I can't think of anything and then I saw it in the New York Times, the Central Park Squirrel Census. Someone decided that they were going to count every squirrel in Central Park. This was for science and they needed our/my help to count them up.

This had a couple of things going for it. First of all, it was cheap. In fact, it was free. Second of all, it was adorable. And third and most importantly, I had a secret weapon. I actually know a ton about squirrels.

You see, when I was a little kid, I was deathly afraid of squirrels. My father, who’s a high school biology teacher, set up a little squirrel feeder in the backyard so I could watch all the squirrels.

And he would teach me little facts about them. Like, do you know how many different ways squirrels use their tails? They use them to communicate. If it's very cold out, they'll use it as a little security blanket. If a squirrel falls out of a tree, they will use it as a tiny parachute. And now, this is a deep cut. Squirrels do not like to swim, but they know how. And when they do, they will use their tails as a tiny little rudder.

This is something nobody knows practically. Squirrels’ favorite food? After years of experimentation, I can tell you it is hazelnuts.

So now, while I don't know a lot about science, if the subject that we're talking about all day is just squirrels, I feel like I can claw my way up to her level and compete.

So I'm like, “All right. This is it. I'm going to kill this date.”

Now, here's the thing. When you tell people that you're going to go to Central Park and count every single squirrel there, they usually have follow‑up questions. The first one is, “Why?” And the answer to that is, “Who cares? Mind your business.”

And the second question is, “Well, okay, wait. This is for science. Does this help the squirrels in some way?” And the answer is, “Yes, sure, whatever.”

And the third question is, “How do you make sure that you're not counting the same squirrel more than once?” Because the thing is, squirrels all look the same and they move around a lot. The answer to that is, “How about you shut the fuck up? I told you we're doing this. Listen. This is the deal. Jamie and I are going to go to Central Park. We're going to count up all the squirrels in Central Park and she's going to become so amazed at how enthusiastic and knowledgeable I am about these adorable little critters that she is going to fall in love with me on the spot.

And there, on the most beautiful fall day of the year, we're going to share our first kiss as squirrels run around us, chittering and burying nuts, and it's going to be like fucking Snow White, so just back off. This is what we're doing.”

So, the big day comes. We show up, it is the most beautiful fall day of the entire year. We get there to the appointed spot and, let me tell you, any idea that I had, that I was going to be like the big squirrel‑fact guy or something at the place was absolutely dashed, because, let me tell you, people had come from all over and these guys were fanatics.

Everyone’s there, they're wearing squirrel hats, they're wearing squirrel pins, they've got squirrel t‑shirts, there's someone with a bedazzled denim jacket with a squirrel on it, people have face paint that say shit like, “I'm nuts for squirrels.” It was like fucking squirrel Mardi Gras over there.

Too late I had realized that I had spent all of this time learning about squirrels. These people had been living it.

In the middle of this whole cacophony, we finally meet this guy, Ron. Ron is one of North America's premier squirrel scientists. He had come to Central Park just to help us count up all the squirrels. Don't worry, Ron had a system.

He hands out all these sheets of paper and on them there's three boxes. The first box, you count the squirrels. Got it. One. Two, I can do that.

Second one, label the squirrel’s color. Gray. Got it.

But the third one is a little more amorphous. That's sort of a fun one. There we have to talk about what we think the squirrel is feeling, maybe tell a little story about the squirrel. He described this as science storytelling.

And this is the kind of science that I can get into, you know. I could fake.

Jamie, however, though, is a real scientist, so she's got some questions. She's not sure about this. She's asking him about statistics. She's asking him about something called an algorithm. I am pretty lost, but she is not having the science storytelling stuff so they begin sort of arguing a little bit.

I start to get nervous because this is not the vibe that I'm trying to cultivate on the day we're going to fall in love. And we're burning daylight. There's squirrels to count. I don't know quite what to do so I just start counting squirrels.

“Hey, Jamie, look at me. There's squirrels everywhere.” I'm like, “One, two, three, four.”

She screams, “What are you doing? We're not in our squirrel sector yet. We have to get to our sector and count those squirrels.”

I said, “I don't know. Four, five, six.”

She goes, “No, you're not following the rules.”

I go, “That's how I am, baby, I don't follow the rules, but goddamn it, I get results.”

She goes, “That's what I'm worried about. This is science. We have to get the right results,” but I keep counting and finally she goes, "All right, all right, we'll go to the sector."

So far, so good. We get there, start counting. One, two, three, color, gray, gray, gray, gray. I'm so good at this. But the last box, the one where we have to come up with squirrel story science storytelling, that's where I really shine.

I start out a little bit slow. “This squirrel looks a little pokey, like he had a little trouble getting out of his nest this morning, maybe he had a late night.” But by the end of it, I'm like, “Balthazar could barely get out of bed. The color of every acorn reminds him of her eyes. How could he go on? Meanwhile, Lorraine has renewed spring in every step. Since she unshackled herself from that drip Balthazar, every day was Lorraine's best day.”

Jamie looked at me and she goes, "This is not science."

And I was like, “Well, you know, you're kind of missing the point. It doesn't have to be exact science. We're having fun, right? We're out. We're building memories.”

But she wasn't having it. The next thing I know, we're in a big argument about what the point of this was. By the way, it's science. Was this a worthwhile endeavor? Are we even having fun at all? I realized we were not. That this day was not going the way that I had planned and we were not going to be falling in love, and we were not going to be sharing our first kiss while the squirrels danced around us.

In fact, I was right. We didn't see each other at all after that day, but it's okay.

A couple of years later, it was about two or three years and countless bad dates later, I met this brilliant psychoanalyst. She was really cute. She was beautiful and she had the biggest glasses I'd ever seen. Like she could read a book on the moon, which maybe she has.

I don't remember what she had gotten her degrees in, several master's degrees. She has more freckles than I have words in my vocabulary. However, she didn't know a lot about squirrels, but this is what's key. She was willing to learn.

As we started spending some more time together, we started walking to the park every morning to feed the little squirrels. Then I think it was our first year anniversary or perhaps her birthday, I gave her a present. It was a custom‑made little squirrel feeder called Tracy's Place.

And in the morning, she gets woken up every morning by her three neighborhood squirrels, Jumpy, Sir Nutkin and Petunia. After they wake her up, tap, tap, tapping on her window, they follow her. She goes from her bedroom to the kitchen to prepare their breakfast, from window to window, frantically tapping, watching her through the window as she scoops out their favorite breakfast, a single handful of hazelnuts. And goes back to her room and pours it out for them.

She and I will watch them as they open the hazelnuts with their little teeth and communicate with their little tails and just live their best, best squirrel lives. And let me tell you, you guys, you guys, you guys, I have never been happier.

Thank you.