While love and science don’t often go hand-in-hand, this week, in celebration of Valentine’s Day, both of our stories are about finding love using scientific methods.

Part 1: After Tony Dahlman plucks up the courage to ask out a fellow statistician, he consults the Survey Administration Manual for guidance on how to construct the perfect date.

Tony Dahlman is a numbers guy. He has spent nineteen years as a statistician for the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Tony is a native Minnesotan who enjoys running, biking, public speaking, college football, and is obsessed with State Fairs. A few years ago he got hooked on storytelling and has told stories with Story District in Washington, DC, the Des Moines Storyteller’s Project, TellersBridge in Cedar Rapids, IA, and The Moth in Minneapolis/St. Paul, MN. Tony lives with his wife in Des Moines, Iowa.

Part 2: When engineering student Heather Monigan asks liberal arts major Michael Berger on a date he’s completely unaware that she's interested in him.

Heather Monigan is a resilient lady with a sharp wit who has learned to laugh in the face of adversity. Her hobbies include staying happily married, keeping two teens alive and spontaneous home remodels. In her spare time, she is an Engineering Executive in the semiconductor industry for over 24 years and active in the tech community. She currently serves as Chair of the IEEE Phoenix Section and is the Phoenix Section’s International Development Lead for Engineers Without Borders. Heather also serves on the Grand Canyon University President’s STEM Advisory Board and the GCU Engineering Advisory Council. She is an adjunct engineering professor for Grand Canyon University. Ms. Monigan holds an MBA and BSCE and never got the memo to “relax”.

Michael is married to Heather Monigan, which is what got him this gig. He also considers that his greatest achievement. Like most everyone else out in Phoenix he is an ex-Midwesterner, hailing from Dayton, Ohio. Since moving to Phoenix in 2004 he acquired a son, a daughter, a doctorate, and too many cats. Since his parents were both in education he decided to start his career there and never left, now working as the Dean of the College of Doctoral Studies for Grand Canyon University. In his limited free time he enjoys playing games of all kinds, the odd bit of creative writing, working out, and attempting ridiculous obstacle course races. Michael doesn’t mind public speaking but has difficulty memorizing scripts. Hopefully this won’t be a problem for Heather.

Episode Transcript

Part 1

I was sitting in math class at Dassel‑Cokato Middle School when Mrs. Johnson was handing back some of our math quizzes. I looked down at the math quiz on my desk and I saw a message in red letters, “Highest score in the class.”

Now, this was something I was really proud of, that I have always been a numbers guy. I've always been a procedures guy. I liked being good at math. But part of me thought all I really did was I was just taking the steps that Mrs. Johnson had taught us and I had come to the right answer.

Tony Dahlman shares his story at Public Media Commons in St. Louis, MO in November 2024. Photo by Michael Thomas.

So I continued on following the steps to get the right answer in middle school math. I continued following the steps to get the right answer in high school math. Eventually, I went to college where I majored in mathematics, where I followed the steps to get the right answer. And then after college, I got a job as a statistician for a federal statistical agency in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where I followed the steps, I got the right answer, and now I was getting paid for it.

I had been in Sioux Falls for a couple of years when I was having a phone call with my sister. My sister was calling to wish me a happy 24th birthday.

Now, my sister and I usually talked about once a week, so she was well aware of the transition that I was going through. That I was going to living with my family with a lot of people, to living in college with a lot of people, to living in Sioux Falls by myself. I kind of confided to her that I just didn't really talk to that many people outside of work.

She blurted out to me, "Tony, you need to make a friend."

Now, she didn't really mean to be this blunt, but I took that statement pretty hard when I realized that I just did not have any friends outside of work. But it was my birthday and I needed to do something to celebrate, so I decided that I was going to head about a mile up to the road to a Cold Stone Creamery.

Now, Cold Stone Creamery has really good ice cream and I don't really know what they do to it to make it that good. I think it's some combination of the sugar, the high butterfat, and the crack cocaine that they put into the ice cream.

But I couldn't go to the ice scream shop alone. That would be really embarrassing. There was one person who I thought about calling. I was thinking about my co‑worker statistician, Karla. I was thinking about her long, brown, curly hair that went down to her shoulders. I was thinking about that determined look on her face that would just turn into a smile that would just brighten up the room. I was thinking about sitting next to her and what it would be like to embrace her. I was thinking about that combination of Iowa farm girl and math nerd that I had just never seen before.

But I couldn't ask Karla out. What were to happen if she were to say no? It would be really awkward at work and I just could not deal with that.

So I went to Cold Stone Creamery alone. I went and had the Birthday Cake Remix Like It cup alone. I celebrated my 24th birthday alone.

I went back to work the next few days and I started trying to talk to Karla a little bit more. What we talked about was mostly the television show, The Office, but it was a good start. I even asked her to dance at a co‑worker's wedding.

One day, I was sitting at my desk reading the Survey Administration Manual. Now, this manual was one of my favorite parts about being a statistician. If I ever had any questions about the dozens of surveys that we sent to farmers all across the state of South Dakota, I could open up the survey administration manual and find the answer to my question.

But today, the Survey Administration Manual did not have the answer to the question I wanted the most, how could I get Karla to be my girlfriend? I had realized that what happened on my birthday was a failed experiment that I was not going to let happen again. I had to take a really big step.

So I walked over to Karla's desk. "Hey, Karla, what are you doing this weekend?"

"Oh, I was thinking about going for a bike ride on Saturday, but nothing else much."

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go out on Friday night."

"Yeah, that sounds fun."

"Great, I'll pick you up on Friday at 6:30."

This was a really good thing and I really needed this date to go well. What I needed was a Relationship Administration Manual to help me plan this date. But I did not have one of those, so I just had to go with what I had. I opened up the Survey Administration Manual and I started going through the chapters.

Chapter One, Sample Design. Now, I only have one date with Karla, and therefore a sample size of n equals one, and that is a little bit concerning. But I do know that sample size and margin of error are inversely related. So if I split this date up into three different stages, I can reduce the margin of error by a factor of at least the square root of three. Three stages is going to be the perfect amount for this date.

Chapter Two, Questionnaire Design. Stage one, I'm going to take Karla to the science museum, and that's going to be the perfect intellectual start for this date. Stage two, we'll go to the park to watch a laser show. A combination of light and sound will set the perfect romantic atmosphere. And stage three, I will take Karla on a walk around the namesake of Sioux Falls, the falls of the big Sioux River. I cannot possibly think of a more romantic setting to end this date.

Chapter Three, Survey Analysis. Now, I have one data point at this point. I know that Karla likes me enough to at least go out on a date with me, but I need something more scientifically rigorous than that. I decide that my hypothesis for statistical significance will be if I get a kiss at the end of the date.

If I get that kiss, it will be a sign that I can turn this in to an actual relationship. But then I start thinking about the statistician's worst nightmare, non‑response error. If this date doesn't go well, it's just another sign that I am destined to be alone, sitting alone in my apartment with no human contact other than the pizza delivery man. I gradually get older and turn into the guy who refuses to give back the neighbor kid's footballs when they accidentally fly into my yard.

I really needed this date to go well.

Fast forward to Friday night. I go to Karla's apartment and I go to pick her up and I take her to the science museum. We walk into the IMAX theater where we're watching a documentary about the Tour de France. We sit down in our seats and I start thinking about how can I adjust my arm so that I can get closer to the soft skin of Karla's hand.

I'm starting to make my move when Karla stands up and she runs out of the theater. What have I done wrong?

I follow after her and I wait outside the bathroom for a couple a minute. Turns out, I should have been less focused on the soft skin of Karla's hand and more focused on the skin of her face that had turned a tinge of light green.

“Karla, what's wrong?”

“Oh, I just got a little bit dizzy from the movie, but I'll be all right.”

“You want me to take you home?”

“No, I'll be all right. Let's continue on with this date.”

Now, stage one is clearly pretty bad and I'm trying to calculate in my head the probability that this is just a simple type II error of a false negative. But, fortunately, I have two other stages to help me deal with these kinds of outliers.

We head to the park for the laser show. I find a nice spot of grass where we can sit next to each other. As the sun goes down under the tree line, we can see a laser outline of a buffalo on the side of the rock.

“So, do you know what this laser show is gonna be about?”

“Well, I looked on the park website and it said something about the history of South Dakota.”

“Yeah, because, so far, all we've had is a buffalo with its legs kind of moving.”

“Yeah, and this narrator is about as exciting as a college professor.”

"Oh, I'm sure it'll get better." It didn't get better.

So, stage one, stage two have been a failure, but I know from the law of independent trials that just because the probabilities of the first two things are bad, that has no impact on the probability of success for stage three. Luckily, I have saved the best stage for last.

I take Karla's hand and we start to go on a walk around the falls. Now, the entire falls is made up of this pink quartzite rock that just glimmers in the moonlight. The mist of the waterfall, you can just feel it on our faces. I could not think of a more romantic setting for a first kiss.

As I tried to lean in, it seemed like Karla was going off in the opposite direction.

We started walking around a little bit more and it quickly became apparent that no matter what move I made, this kiss wasn’t going to happen. So I decided to give up and I offered to give Karla a ride home.

On the drive back to Karla’s apartment, I was completely dejected. The Survey Administration Manual Guide to Date Planning has been a complete failure. My p‑value is nowhere close to 0.05. All I can think is me, sitting alone in my apartment eating leftover pizza next to a box of used sporting equipment.

As we pull into the parking lot, I tried to come up with something that will break the silence that just exemplifies what a failure this night has been.

“Karla, I had a really good time tonight and I hope that you did too.”

I start to reach my hand towards the door handle so that I can walk Karla to her apartment door when she leans over and she kisses me.

She kissed me! I have statistically significant data.

“Tony, I had a really good time tonight and I hope that we can do this again sometime.”

She wants to see me again! It doesn't matter that I got her sick in a movie theater. It doesn't matter that I took her to the world's most boring South Dakota history lesson, and it doesn't matter that she's not as enamored with waterfalls as I am. She wants to me again.

Sometime later, I asked Karla, “Karla, do you remember the ride home from our first date?”

“Yeah, you looked really sad.”

“So that kiss you gave me, it was a pity kiss?”

“No, it wasn't pity. I was just worried about what would happen if I dated a co‑worker. But when I saw how much this date really meant to you, it made me look at you in a different light.”

Now, I'm still a statistician who is way too meticulous and spends way too much time planning things, but Karla taught me a very valuable lesson that night. That life, and especially love, is not a middle school math quiz. It is not a set of experimental procedures that you can always do and you can always get the right answer.

I still don't have a Relationship Administration Manual. I don't have the story of a romantic first kiss in front of a waterfall. But what I do have is a woman who is always willing to go out to ice cream with me. And in about one month, I am going to be spending my 14th wedding anniversary with that long, brown, curly‑haired girl and that's all that matters.

Thank you.

Part 2

Heather: Well, I've always been good in math and science. And when I didn't quite know what I wanted to study in college, my father suggested that I study engineering. It just so happened that that was the major that he was going to pay for.

So I was the only girl in electrical engineering. If you do the calculus on that, the odds are good, but them goods are odd. So I decided to widen the pool a bit come my junior year and step out a bit and went to the Science Fiction and Fantasy Club, because I got really entrenched in Carl Sagan's work. Actually, it was a fiction work that resonated with me the most, Contact.

For those of you who are not familiar or obsessed with this book as I am, it tells of a woman scientist who has this fantastic relationship with her father. She is not only passionate about her work, she is in love with her work. She has to defend herself and justify continuing to study. I really felt so connected with this one character so much that I was compelled to give a book report at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Club.

And as I was passionately telling this room how much I loved this book, nobody was paying attention, except this one boy. He was staring at me, not in a creepy way but he was staring.

Michael: I was also a member of this club. I was actually the president of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Appreciation Club. When people came to do events at the club, as president, I needed to make sure that they got a polite response. So I was making eye contact, doing active listening, all those things that were really important when this girl was giving a book report.

And girls were rare, but not unheard of at the club. I did recognize that, “Oh, that's the one girl in engineering that all the engineering boys like.” But, after she was done, I thanked her and we moved on to the next item on the agenda, which was figuring out roles for the gaming convention that was coming up in a couple months.

Heather Monigan and Michael Berger share their story at Arizona Science Center in Phoenix, AZ in April 2024. Photo by Jennifer Giralo.

Heather: I thought he had a cute butt, so I asked him out on a date.

Michael: So, she came up to me afterwards and wanted to know how she could help with the convention. That was great because getting teenagers to organize is like herding cats. And I don't know why she wanted to talk about it at this coffee shop a couple days later, but everyone has busy schedules. We have to make it work.

So, she picked this coffee shop and it was a quiet little corner that she had selected. I went in, took about 20 minutes, explained everything that was going on with the con, found a task that would be good to her, assigned her to it and I left.

Heather: I wore earrings.

Michael: I didn't even have to buy coffee.

Heather: So the first date didn't go so well, so my roommates and I were having a Valentine's Day party, so I extended an invitation to him.

Michael: So, college, people have parties a lot. Holidays, always an excuse. But it was great to get an invite from this girl, so I told her, “Of course, I would be there.” But the day of, some complications ensued. I had some difficulty with the car and so when it came to the evening, I just decided not to go.

Then the next morning, I got a rather indignant phone call from a mutual friend who had said that, while she wasn't at the party, she wanted to know why I wasn't at the party. I was defending myself, but then I'm like, “Wait. If the friend wasn't at the party, how did she know that I wasn't at the party, unless Heather had told her that I wasn't at the party because Heather was upset about… Oh, crap. I'm an idiot.”

Heather: Yep.

Michael: So, the next time we had the Science Fiction Club, I went up to her afterward and said, “So maybe would you like…”

Heather: “Yes. Yes.”

And so began what could only be described as ‘chaste dating,’ where after our dates, he would send me emails and sign them, “Fondly, Michael,” and would only kiss my hand goodnight.

Michael Berger shares his story at Arizona Science Center in Phoenix, AZ in April 2024. Photo by Jennifer Giralo.

Michael: There's no appreciation for the classics, I guess.

Heather: As I didn't realize that I was his first kiss.

Michael: Yeah, it was after a movie marathon. I dropped the videos all over her patio and almost bounced off the door frame.

Heather: It was a really good kiss, very good kiss.

Without a lot of warning, I got a phone call. It's one of those phone calls that only in retrospect do you realize it's going to change the whole trajectory of your life. In that phone call, I had learned that my father, who was my biggest cheerleader, the only parent that I knew, a source of unconditional love, was going to die. He was diagnosed with stage 4 glioblastoma, which is a very aggressive form of brain cancer and was given 14 months to live.

And I had looked at this sweet innocent boy. This was fun, this was adorable, but I knew that things were going to be really bad. So I thought the best thing to do was just to end this right now and separate as friends, just to break up.

Michael: That was not how I expected the end of the conversation, where I learned about her father having cancer, to go. That, logically, the best answer to our problem was to break up.

Now, I hung out with all the engineers and the science kids, but I do have a confession to make. I'm a Liberal Arts major, English and Communication specifically. And so when faced with this logical proposal, I had to look at the people I knew. So, reading about Odysseus and Arthur and Beowulf and Aragorn. All of those characters, they didn't run away from people who were in trouble. They ran toward them.

And so I said, “I'm not going anywhere.”

Heather: “But my life is gonna fall apart.”

Michael: “Well, then I'll be there to pick up the pieces.”

Heather: And as I predicted, it was bad. What I didn't predict is how bad it was. The depth of the sadness and the emotions that I had felt and the level of grief that I had felt when my father passed, it was nothing like I've ever experienced. You see, I didn't even have a training wheel death. I didn't have a dog or a grandfather. No, no. This was number one that we went through.

And I didn't even know the process of what's supposed to happen, like you're supposed to put the flower on the grave and you're supposed to walk away. Well, no one ever told me that, so Michael actually had to physically help me walk away because I didn't know you were supposed to.

But, somehow, I also knew that I had to keep on going, even though I couldn't describe the depth of the sadness and even though I really had to force myself to keep on going and keeping breathing after my only source of unconditional love had passed. I had a job waiting for me. I had a paycheck. I had dental insurance. All I had to do was graduate and I knew that I would have this job.

Heather Monigan shares her story at Arizona Science Center in Phoenix, AZ in April 2024. Photo by Jennifer Giralo.

About a month before that we were to graduate, I knew that I was going to go off to California. I was going to take this job and I was going to live the rest of my life. But Michael didn't say where he was going after graduation. He knew where I was going, but he wouldn't say where he was going. And I had to communicate to him how I was feeling the best way I knew how.

Michael: She drew me a chart.

Heather: It was a function.

Michael: It was a graph.

Heather: It was a function of our relationship.

Michael: It was on graph paper.

Heather: I drew on the y‑axis the magnitude of the pain that I was going to feel. Actually, no, I drew on the y‑axis the magnitude of attachment, and the x‑axis was time. I drew to him this exponential function that, over time, I grew more attached to him. I explained that this point in time, x, was where we are, and if we took the area underneath the curve, that represented the amount of pain that I was going to feel.

And x prime was this point in time in the future, and if we took that additional area of the curve and added them together, well, that was a lot of pain. So, obviously, the most logical thing to do would be to break up now.

Michael: So, I'm bad at math. I barely passed freshman algebra and this was like trigonometry.

Heather: It's like high school calculus. It's not hard.

Michael: Or it's geometry. Your drawing, isn't that geometry?

Heather: It's really not hard.

Michael: Okay. And x is prime, numbers are prime. X isn't a number.

Heather: It's just a variable. Honey, it's a slash.

Michael: Still not grasping it this many years later.

So, I was presented with this chart by this beautiful, intelligent, wounded girl that I had become very attached to. I had to find some way to respond to the logical conclusion that breaking up now is the best option. And the only thing I could do, again, was to move to something irrational.

And so I looked at the chart and how x prime was extending out and I said, “Well, let's apply the concept of infinity. If we take x prime and we push x prime out infinitely, then we never break up and the area under the chart would never hurt her.

Heather: So at our wedding, we had a guest who said that there's many groom who walked many miles to get to their bride, but Michael had to walk billions and billions to get to you.

Michael: 26 years and two kids later, I'm still bad at math.

Heather: But he's still here to pick up the pieces.