I had my first kiss when I was 16. My first thought was “wow, I’m kissing” and my second was “I’m surprised I’m not grossed out by his tongue touching mine/is this what human tastes like?”

There’s a tension that builds up to every first kiss. And while it makes your chest swell and your ears hot, it goes away the moment your lips touch. Your bodies are familiar now. Sure it will continue to feel good, but never again will you experience that same sense of wonder and longing. No matter how much I like a guy, I am always disappointed when the first kiss is over. I’ve planted my flag in the territory. Level unlocked. Come claim your prize. It’s fair to think some people only want to win the lottery because they haven’t won it yet.

I’m a chaser when it comes to the love stuff. I find satisfaction in never being satisfied. When I find out someone likes me back, it makes me like them a little less. My backward thinking has royally screwed me in many cases, but I am thankful it makes me bored of superficial relationships.

If you ask me, a guy can only look so good naked. Big biceps, defined abs, yada yada. When your fingers have grazed all the tanned and toned parts of his anatomy, the most unattainable thing remains between your hands when you cup his face. Because you can access every square inch of a hot guy’s body—you only ever nick the surface of a beautiful man’s mind.

***

My first intellectual crush was in high school. His name was Cody* and he had bleach blonde hair that swept over his eyebrows. We attended different schools two hours apart and met at a debate tournament. He had a solemn and mysterious presence, like his soul had aged a decade faster than his body. We spoke outside the confines of a classroom but I still looked forward to every competition we attended, especially ones where teams were power-matched—the better you performed, the tougher the opponent you faced. Cody was a great public speaker and I usually did well enough to see him in final rounds.

During his speeches, I mindlessly flipped through evidence against the rise of the Russian economy, distracted by his eloquence and effortless way of incorporating the word “ramification” into any rebuttal—it was an ongoing inside joke and the closest to foreplay we would ever see. He was easy on the eyes and heaven on the ears. He spoke with a calm discipline that could convince me that the sky was falling. And even if it was, I would die happy listening to him orate with that precious mouth of his.

I took notes on his arguments while fantasizing about a cross examination that went something like this:

Me: “On a scale of 1 to notorious prime ministers, how badly do you want me right now?”

Him: “Vladimir Putin.”

Cody would then push a pile of loose-leaf evidence and yellow legal pads off his desk and we would fraternize like our body heat was Russia’s leading export. The judge would clap politely and hold up a perfect 10 scorecard.

You could say I have a weakness for boys in suits who can talk pretty.

Living two hours away from each other, Cody and I only saw each other at tournaments and relied on technology to keep in touch. On many nights, I sat in bed with my phone on the nightstand, anticipating the buzz of his text. It was new territory for me to have meaningful conversation with a person I was romantically interested in. Because when you played MASH, when did you ever pick the smart guys? Beyond his conversational skills, I loved how I could never predict or place him. He didn’t like me, he preferred me. And his reserved interest only made me want him more.

I fell hard for Cody, so like any short-sighted and hormonally-driven teenager, I offered to send him some friendly pictures. Keep in mind Snapchat was not a thing when I was in high school, so sexting then was even dumber than it is now. But risk does little to deter the reckless.

Cody and I had never so much as held hands, so this was a pretty juicy offer. But just as I thought we would cement our long distance romance with some legally questionable visuals, Cody told me: “No, thank you.”

No, thank you. Like I had asked if he wanted a second helping of mashed potatoes.

Before I could mend my self-esteem or come to terms with a teenage boy rejecting personalized porn, Cody dropped a life-changing bomb that affects the way I date today.

He told me, “You don’t have to do this for me to find you attractive.”

In that instant, he unwound the exclusive ties between physical and sexual interest I believed to motivate all romantic relationships. Intellect was no longer a quality reserved for friendships—it was finally a contender in the playing field of love. It took me 16 years and a brooding blonde enigma for me to realize my most attractive attributes were not seen, but heard.

I deeply admired his quick wit and, in my infatuation, didn’t realize he valued similar qualities in me. He didn’t just call me beautiful—he praised my complexity and thoughtfully entertained my musings. He believed I was bright, and not in the way people tack on adjectives like “smart and funny” to describe people they find attractive to feel less superficial. Cody got to know me with no ulterior motives.

***

Sometimes when I meet a cute guy now, I deliberately say dull and unoriginal things to see if he sticks around. If he does, I know he’s interested for the wrong reasons. And if he doesn’t? Then I’ve discovered innocence by burning the witch, but I never claimed to be good at dating. I know the conversation I’m capable of, and I’ll be damned if I settle for someone who sees my brain as an accessory to my appearance. I am not a pretty face who happens to be smart. I’m a smart person someone may happen to find attractive.

I have Cody to thank for my intellectual dating standards. It prepped me for dating at my alma mater, which often gets a bad rap for having good odds (~60% male population) and odd goods (nerds galore). But with depth as a weeding factor, I met plenty of great catches. I remember in my first month of college, I invited a guy to my dorm to “do homework.” To my disappointment and pleasant surprise, we ended up talking about my philosophy readings.

Now that I’m out of college, I can’t use homework as a segue into impromptu analyses of Plato’s work so I look for other indicators of intrigue. For example, it is such a turn-on when a guy has a good education. And a guy who loves to read? Absolute panty dropper.

I won’t lie and say physical chemistry is unimportant. Good looks may open the door, but I want fire and passion inside and out. When it all boils down, external attraction alone is fleeting and the chase is short-lived. You take off all your clothes and there you are. But to fully undress someone’s mind—that can take a lifetime.

A few years removed from our glory days in high school debate, Cody told me he loved the idea of me. He’s a realist and I love how he didn’t romanticize our powerful but limited connection, even if I did.

I like to believe our intellectual chemistry was mutually enlightening. I think fondly of the way Cody made me feel. It has certainly raised the bar for those to come. My physical desirability was validated by a smooch at 16, but that was the lesser of milestones to celebrate. Not everyone is so lucky to be reassured in deeper ways, especially at such a vulnerable age.

We swap first kiss stories like trading cards, but rarely do we ask about the Codys. The ones who wake you up when you didn’t know you were sleeping. The ones who instill a sense of worth in you that lasts long beyond your teen years. Mine was a unicorn of a boy who holds a dear place in the timeline of People Who Have Changed Me.

I am single, for the time being. Many friends have told me my standards are just “too high.” Unrealistic, even. But I’ve met plenty of people with qualities I like—it’s just a matter of finding it all in one person. I have no idea how long it will be before I’m in a relationship again, but I do know this: Tall, dark, and handsome is not enough.  So long as I have my sanity, I will continue to chase after the one that keeps me running. And when that day comes, you can bet that he will be an ace in the bedroom and an even better intellectual fuck.

*Names have been changed to prevent Facebook stalking and an inbox of love letters/nudes.