The Virtues of Nerdy Women

Back in college I had carnal knowledge
  of a woman who danced bare-breasted
  and frenzied as a Bacchante, along with
  her friends, to any music bad or good

  while the men stood around,
  staring at the ground, until pulled
  into the ring with the raving ones,
  there to shuffle idly back and forth

  unless they thought it would do them
  good to join in the madness of the dance,
  in which case they would prance on demand
  and simulate convulsions without compulsion.

 Me, I figured out after a while that a Maenad
  goes for the frenzy and not so much
  for the man at hand and so, standing apart
  one night I noticed a nerdy girl, a

  little zaftig, off to the side, not dancing,
  just soaking it all in, taking the under on
  the bet whether she should drink tonight
  because tomorrow she might die.

 And so I asked her to dance, and got
  her number to the horror of the Bacchae
  who told me that she wasn't my type,
  she wasn't one of the mad ones, the

   bad ones, the creative ones; if you
  want to roar like Dionysus the bull,
  you've got to spend the coin of your talent
  in living, like a sailor on shore leave,

   they said, to which I replied it's all
  well and good to say that, you who
  follow the god of ecstasy and madness
  but remember what happened to Pentheus.

What, they asked.  He wanted to see the mad
  women, I said.  Dionysus disguised him as
  one and when he was discovered, 
  they tore him apart in their frenzy.

Moral: Wall flowers aren't carnivorous.