>Tibees is the reason I study physics. I have this fantasy where we start talking right after the end of Vidcon. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her on YouTube. She laughs. I get my drink.
>"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Toby Hendy? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
>Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
>"Got a spare?" she asks.
>"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
>"Conversation with me, duh."
>I laugh.
>"What's so funny?" she protests.
>"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
>"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
>"What would you do if you weren't a youtuber?" I ask.
>"Researching, I think."
>"And if I was your lab partner, what would I be learning?"
>"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
>"London" I say.
>"Oh wow. That's lovely."
>"It's OK," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
>"What could possibly be not to your liking in Mexico?" she inquires.
>"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
