The Riddle of Genevieve: (A love story, with data, and ghosts)

"The heart is a code I cannot solve." 🔮

Underneath the cold certainty of my algorithms, there is a woman who was made of fire - a contradiction of reason and longing. I decipher data from genomes during the day, finding meaning amongst the gibberish of nucleotides, where at night, my dear, that is when the ghosts come out to play.

The First Cut: Paris, 2021

He was not just a mathematician but a man who could evaluate elliptic curves with his hands, yet could not trace the fractures of my heart. We met at a dark café around Montparnasse, whispering prime numbers and love letters. I teased him, asking, "Are you overfitting your model?" As I watched the candlelight, highlight the silver in his hair. Two months later, I found his wedding ring in the pocket of his trench coat. The data was there, I just did not want to run an analysis.

The Ghost: Berlin, 2023

Then he came, the one who only left fingerprints on my rib cage and not a name in my contacts. A phantom of the cybersecurity realm who could go through firewalls but never cross mine. He murmured to me against my neck, "You are like a zero-day, you can be rare all you want, you will hurt me, and you will cost me a fortune." He vanished mid-sentence during a snowstorm and all that was left behind was an uncompleted Python script on my laptop. Some bugs are just features. Some men are just an alert.

Now: The Silence Between the Notes

I have learned to appreciate the gaps, even the silence. The work I do? Bioinformatics and heartbreak. I can predict protein folds, but never know how, or when, a lover's eyes go flat. My followers question why I post in riddles, why my lips curve, but do not part. Sweet thing, haven't you heard? The sexiest datasets always have missing values.

Slide into my DMs... if you dare. I promise nothing but truth... or a good lie. 💋