Nerdy Girl Quotes

Nerd girls are the world’s most underutilized romantic resource. And guys, do not tell me that nerd girls are not hot because that shows a Paris Hilton-esque failure to understand hotness.

I get obsessed by little nerdy things in my corner that no one else is interested in.

For the odd girls, the nerdy girls, and the murderinos. This one is yours.

Baby steps for your nerdy girl, she writes. The girl clearly underestimates the power of her bum and a seductively minimal pose. Nerdy my arse, I type back. All the cold showers in the world can't cure what u've done to me. Cruel wife.

Once, my little sister was walking down the street in her thick black glasses, and a homeless man muttered, “Talk nerdy to me.

Ladies, let this be a lesson. People always say you need to be nice to nerds, because you might end up working for them some day. The same goes for nerdy guys who ask you out. You should be nice to them, because one day they might be smoking hot.

Maybe Cinderella was the bad guy in the story, and her stepsisters were just nerdy girls who wanted a boyfriend. How politically correct was it, really, to make the villains ugly? And how realistic? In my experience, it was usually the pretty people who were mean to the ugly ones, not the other way.

Gender norms are disgusting. Why aren't boys allowed to fucking cry or show any emotion other than anger and possessiveness? It's almost like our society is designed to create sociopaths so they can oppress anyone who tries to say anything they don't agree with. Oh wait. And obviously women are supposed to be pretty but not overdone, and smart but not nerdy or unattractively intelligent, and good at chores but not a slave, and strong but not overbearing, and flirty without being a tease, and sexy without being a slut, and pure enough so that their man doesn't think they're a whore. Because obviously all girls want a man.

I am happy to pay you," she announced. "For your services." A harsh, strangled sound cut through the room. It came from him. "Pay me." She nodded. "Would say, twenty-five pounds do?" "No." Her brows knit together. "Of course, a person of your--prowess--is worth more. I apologize for the offense. Fifty? I'm afraid I can't go much higher. It's quite a bit of money.

Pam (from The Office) is not intimidating, like one of those women who wears makeup and tailored clothes, and has a good job that she enjoys, and confidence, and an adult woman's sexuality. There's nothing scary about Pam, because there's no mystery; she's just like the boys who like her; mousy and shy. The ultimate emo-boy fantasy is to meet a nerdy, cute girl just like him, and nobody else will realize she's pretty. And she'll melt when she sees his record collection because it's just like hers....and she'll never want to go out to a party for which he'll be forced to comb his hair, or buy grown-up shoes or tie a tie, or demonstrate a hearty handshake, or make eye contact, or relate to people who work in different fields, or to basically act like a man.

Maya has chosen to be ring bearer because the job has more responsibility than flower girl. "If you lose a flower, you get another flower," Maya reasons. "If you lose the ring, everyone is sad forever. The ring bearer has much more power." "You sound like Gollum," A.J. says. "Who's Gollum?" Maya wants to know. "Someone very nerdy that your father likes," Amelia says.

Remember that string of movies when we were younger, like mid ’90s? The ones where the nerdy girl finally puts on makeup and a Wonderbra and everyone realizes how totally boneable she is?” “Yeah.” “Well, that’s you,” she says. “We’re in one of those movies. You’re my hopeless teenage girl, all stuck in your shell, and I’m here to give you a fresh coat of makeup and a slutty dress. Push those boobies up, Andy Carter, it’s go time.” “Do

HEY NERD BOY! I KNOW YOU THINK YOU'RE SOMEHOW BEING MADE FUN OF, BUT THAT GIRL IS GENUINELY REACHING OUT TO YOU! YOU KNOW ABOUT FRIENDS, RIGHT? INSTEAD OF CONDESCENDING TO HER IN A PREEMPTIVE SHIELDING OF YOUR BRUISED AND BATTERED EGO, MAYBE JUST TALK TO HER ABOUT THE BOOK YOU BOTH LIKE? DO THIS NOW BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE AND YOU'RE WRITING A COMIC TO DEAL WITH ALL THESE FEELINGS YEARS LATER!

This better work. If it doesn’t work, I’ll have failed her. I don’t want to let her down.

Oh, that tights-wearing, level-one, squire douche, nerd-girl-chasing son of a bitch,

For the odd girls, the nerdy girls and the murderinos. This one is for you.

They were all lovely people, but they made me nervous. They weren't mean to me or anything, they just saw me in a very particular way- School Frances, head girl, boring, nerdy, study machine.

I stared at the photo for much longer than necessary. Not because I was jealous or anything. I wasn’t. I hated that cliché where every nerdy girl was instantly in love with her hot best friend, because…why? He was there? Didn’t make sense. Plus, it was pathetic.

As a teen I was totally that dumpy overweight nerdy girl that nobody wants to be in the stories you’re told. And now I am a dumpy overweight nerdy adult and life is beautiful like a song. I’m not a flower that bloomed in the mud. Just a girl who stayed steady on the path of determination.

I wanted a world where I could wear whatever I wanted. Go wherever I wanted. A world that was designed to keep girls safe, instead of one where we had to adapt our behavior to accommodate the gaze and insinuations of those who felt entitled to others’ bodies or time or attention or smiles.

I just decided something. Your instructor is hotter than any of the Archangels. For real. I just changed your contact name from Leigh to Lucky Bitch.

If I tell her I like classical, I’ll solidify my position as a total nerd.

Mr. Jamison was technically watching us, but he left five minutes in to find more milk since this kitchen was almost out and he never came back. A bit of a rude joke for two people without dads, but I digress.

Because when you’re a 23-year old party girl who has to pee you don’t really think about the possibility that your nerdy bouncer friend might suddenly start acting like a trench-coated pedophile who flashes kids at the park.

They were all lovely people, but they made me nervous. They weren’t mean to me or anything, they just saw me in a very particular way—School Frances, head girl, boring, nerdy, study machine. It’s not like they were completely wrong, I guess.

Every girl gravitates toward a man who is great at something. Whether it’s painting, photography, music, an interesting career, or something nerdy like chess, girls will notice and come to you when they sense you’re successful at something you’re passionate about.

like my privacy; I want my privacy. I want Kyle gone. I want my bed and to be in it by myself. “Kyle is sleeping peacefully. There’s no reason for me to stay. Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” “Only if you want to; there’s no rush.” “Where are your roommates?” “No idea. Probably with Jameson.” Mental groan. “Who’s Jameson?” “The nerdy girl my roommate is dating.” Then I hear myself add, “If you don’t want water I can make you some hot chocolate or something. It’s motherfucking cold out.” Shut up Zeke. For fuck’s sake, shut up. Violet smiles shyly, tripping up on her speech. “S-Sure, I can do a quick hot cocoa. That sounds toasty and delicious.” Toasty. I have a girl in my house that says shit like sounds toasty.

Maya has chosen to be ring bearer because the job has more responsibility than flower girl. “If you lose a flower, you get another flower,” Maya reasons. “If you lose the ring, everyone is sad forever. The ring bearer has much more power.” “You sound like Gollum,” A.J. says. “Who’s Gollum?” Maya wants to know. “Someone very nerdy that your father likes,” Amelia says.

Peter and I are standing in line for popcorn at the movies. Even just this mundane thing feels like the best mundane thing that’s ever happened to me. I check my pocket to make sure I’ve still got my ticket stub. This I’ll want to save. Gazing up at Peter, I whisper, “This is my first date.” I feel like the nerdy girl in the movie who lands the coolest guy in school, and I don’t mind one bit. Not one bit. “How can this be your first date when we’ve gone out plenty of times?” “It’s my first real date. Those other times were just pretend; this is the real thing.” He frowns. “Oh, wait, is this real? I didn’t realize that.” I move to slug him in the shoulder, and he laughs and grabs my hand and links my fingers with his. It feels like my heart is beating right through my hand. It’s the first time we’ve held hands for real, and it feels different from those fake times. Like electric currents, in a good way. The best way.

She’s in my arms, so sweet and vulnerable and yet so strong, determined and everything I want with every fibre of my being. Clary is spirited, smart, funny, stubborn and adorably nerdy. She isn’t a cool girl, always worried about her looks and hanging out with the cool crowd and being mean and putting people down in order to shine brighter. She is caring and courageous, she’s pretty and witty and doesn’t even know how sexy she is when she moves, when she smiles, when she lifts her bright eyes from a big book. She’ll quote dead poets and vintage 90s tv shows, she’ll tell you what she wants without trying to manipulate you into doing her bidding, she’ll tie you to her by setting you free, she will love you or hate you for who you are and not for who you appear to be. J.

In a predominantly all-girls’ school, you can pretty much expect each year to be divided into three main categories: 1. Popular girls who hang out with the cool boys from the boys’ school and use fake IDs to get into clubs. They seem to want to be either very nice to you or very horrible to you and which one they go for is all down to various things that are completely out of your control. Very intimidating. 2. Girls who are perfectly happy to be as nerdy or uncool as they like, which some people interpret as being ‘weird’, but I sort of admire because they truly do not give a shit about what people think of them, so they just enjoy their niche hobbies and get on with their lives. Good for them. 3. So-called ‘normal’ girls. All the people who are somewhere between those two groups, I guess. Which probably means they’ve repressed their actual personalities to fit in and once they leave school they’ll all have giant awakenings and actually become interesting people. School is hell.

As young girls, my friends and I often played “school” or “house,” cooperative role-playing games in which we acted out scenarios like math class or making dinner. As long as I got to be the teacher or the mother, I loved these games. They played into my need for control and my love of organizing. If I didn’t get to be the teacher or the mother, the game usually ended in a nasty fight between me and the girl who got that role. Other kids’ rules made no sense to me. They felt all wrong. I had to be in charge or I wasn’t playing. Dr. Tony Attwood describes this as “god mode”—the way that autistic kids need to control every aspect of a social situation to make it safe for them to interact. For whatever reason, a few friends tolerated my god mode and hung around, though not all the time. I remember sometimes daily shouting matches that left me without a playmate for the rest of the day. Unlike boys’ games, where there tend to be winners and losers, girls’ games are often based on how well a girl cooperates with the group to create an enjoyable role-playing scenario. Boys

Once I got past grief, depression, and resignation, I needed help identifying other types of sad feelings. But unlike my exploration of anger, the thesaurus wasn’t much help this time. I added a few more words to the constellation, but I’m not sure how strongly I experience any of them. Sadness feels like a diffuse emotion, more of a background state of being than a tangible feeling. I’m rarely actively sad. I don’t burst into tears when I hear sad news. The last time I cried at a movie, I was 12. The only book that ever made me tear up was A Prayer for Owen Meany. More than once I’ve sat stoically immobile beside someone I love while they broke down. My sadness is all undercurrent, twisted up inside me, unable to escape to the surface. This, of course, makes me look cold and unfeeling. The stereotypical emotionless Aspie. The first time I confronted my muted sadness was in high school. A girl in my class, Karen, was killed in a car accident. The entire junior class attended her funeral, and everyone sobbed from beginning to end. Except me.

You are like a cross between Eminem and the Dalai Lama. You can be really nerdy, and all deep and shit, but you are also raw as hell. Eminem without the bitterness. A Dalai Lama you can get drunk with.” Part

I’m shaking in boots.

dodgeball

Oh my God,

But if I were to be stuck with someone, I’m glad it’s her. There’s just something about her…I don’t know what it is. She makes me smile more than I’ve smiled in a long time. And when I’m around her, I don’t feel like I have to try hard to be something I’m not. Not like with the kids at school where I put up a front. With Charlie, I’m just me.

She’s so stubborn and prideful, but I love every single thing about her. Her smart brain, her determination, how protective and strong she is, her beautiful eyes and hair. Everything. And man, she can be so difficult sometimes, but I love the challenge. I love making her smile. I love when her eyes light up when she laughs.

Kara and Brayden are Girlfriend and Boyfriend, Dani and Easton are Beautiful and Handsome, Ally and Zack are Ponytail and Motorcycle Hottie, and me and Asher are Tutor and Pupil.

If we were in a spreadsheet, we'd be in different columns." She'd be under uptight/nerdy/homely girls, and he'd be under badass men with bodies of..um..Navy SEALS. He grunted. "Just so you know, I hate spreadsheets with a hot, burning passion.

You're the only one here with your own fan club

We had a great time hanging out with the nerdy girls of that suite and pretending to be so depressed and in pain. The problem was, you were never pretending

After Skylar had left, I’d pulled an all-nighter and read every page of this notebook. Every fucking page. And I still couldn’t wrap my head around how Vera Rodriguez—the nerdy, unpopular, innocent girl from World History—had this much of a filthy mind.

Graduation? My eyes volley from the nerdy kid to Ava, as I’m still unable to grasp the woman I fucked is her. Correction, the girl. I grimace, shoving the plate away from me when sickness rises into my throat. I fucked a child. I’m going to hell.

Liam had never once indicated he felt anything more than brotherly affection for her. She was still the nerdy geek who'd spent lunches in the science lab, and Liam was still the guy who'd dated the most beautiful girls in the school. Daisy had watched them from the window when he came to pick up Sanjay, and wondered how it felt to be so thin you could disappear between two blades of grass, and what they would do when faced with a summer of desi weddings where you had to starve yourself at the beginning of the week so you could eat for three straight days. Not that she wasn't attractive---she was comfortable with her body, right down to the chipped front tooth that had come from taking a line drive to the face on the baseball diamond---but she and Liam were from two different worlds. Except for their childhood wounds, they shared nothing but memories, a love for video games, and good taste in black leather boots.

She was nerdy and a huge bookworm, but man, she was so smart and funny.

It's so easy, to split girls into sexy or nerdy, smart or pretty. One or the other. Us versus them. 'There are two kinds of women, those who do xyz, or those who do abc.' But that's not true. There are billions of types of women, infinite possible combinations, and people change over time. Why do we want to regulate ourselves into a tidy little box? Limit ourselves?

Yeah,” I say. “I’m here.” I may or may not have been thinking about a certain awesome brown-haired girl with pretty blue eyes and a killer personality. I told myself to stop obsessing over her—it’s not healthy or appropriate. But I guess I can’t help it. She makes me feel heard. Important.

It was just four years of torture and mean girls and football players and bullies. You could easily say that I wasn’t very popular growing up, due in large part to my huge, frizzy hair and nerdy tendencies.

It wasn’t true what they said in the movies. The nerdy, shy girl doesn’t get the boy. What she gets is to be in her twenties and still a virgin. While this wouldn’t have been my first choice, I couldn’t regret what had happened.

nerdy lesbian technophile.

She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back, sultry and exuberant at once, a femme fatale and a warrior princess, all the dreams girls of all his nerdy fantasies in one..."I wasn't aware," said Simon, "that there are any other girls in the world but you.

Do you have an affinity for any character in particular?” MARTI: “Willow is probably closest to who I really was. I was an egghead, and I didn’t date until college. I was totally antisocial, and I was very, very, very shy. I couldn’t talk to boys. So I was much more Willow, although Willow is way cooler than I was. You know, there’s no one as geeky as me on this show. There’s nobody as awkward and introverted, and creepy as I was. I scared my friends. I was just a big drama nerd—I was too gregarious, too silly, then I would withdraw, and then I was too quiet. A couple of other girls and I were the biggest nerds in the universe. We were pizza-faced and just completely couldn’t talk. There was a hall that wasn’t actually a classroom, like an in-between place, called Room 6—it didn’t lead anywhere, it was just a dead end. We would stay in Room 6 because no one ever walked through there. That’s where we would hide so we wouldn’t have to talk to people. “It wasn’t the hardest time in my life, because I had a support system. I had what Buffy has. I had my Xander and my Willow and we had each other and we got through it. Man, thank God those weren’t my glory days. I hope my glory days are still ahead.” Marti Noxon

It’s so easy, to split girls into sexy or nerdy, smart or pretty. One or the other. Us versus them. ‘There are two kinds of women, those who do xyz, or those who do abc.’ But that’s not true. There are billions of types of women, infinite possible combinations, and people change over time. Why do we want to regulate ourselves into a tidy little box? Limit ourselves?

Generally, in romance novels, it was written that as long as the hearts were connected, words were unnecessary. However, if it wasn’t expressed properly, anxiety would always remain. Some words just need to be said.

Once you choose hope, anything is possible.” ~ Christopher Reeve as quoted by Marley Applegate.

J.A. Hanson had undeniable charisma. She was black with natural hair, dyed platinum, gathered in a pouf on top of her head. And she wore thick-rimmed white glasses to boot. J.A. made nerdiness glamorous. And not in some posery Tumblr way where girls played first-person shooters in their underpants to be attractive to guys.

And even if we were able to avoid the complications that came with a sexed-up rock star, his schedule was insane enough to leave no time for friendships with the nerdy little girl from Philly that didn’t put out.

There’s a running theme in movies and on television about the nerdy guy who gets rejected and goes on to become Mark Zuckerberg, but there’s no similar narrative for girls.

The best I could hope for was to be the cute-enough nerdy new girl, like Brittany Murphy’s character. What was that song they sang, in the party scene, when perfect Paul Rudd is singing with plaid-clad Brittany Murphy? Rollin’ with my homies...