A(x) = 1/I

I'm not a fan of dating. Its something I've never been good at. This is not a new problem as it can be traced all the way back to the awkward first dates of junior high. It could be described as an affliction, but that's a little dramatic. Or it could be my thorn in the flesh, but that's a bit biblical.
Sometimes I wished I lived in some more progressive country, say India or Pakistan. I have read that in these enlightened cultures relationships are predetermined and marriages are arranged. If I did live over there I would have probably been married for years and have had six or seven kids by now. Then my biggest worry would be gathering enough goats for a dowry so my son can get that cute girl down the street.
Like most truths in life, my problem can be reduced to a simple mathematical equation. I present it as an inverse proportion, as follows: A(x) = 1/I, where A is my attraction for female x, and I is my intelligence. As you can see, as attraction goes up, intelligence goes down. Sometimes this decrease in intelligence is exponential.
I consider myself to be an intelligent person. I can debate complex topics and have literate conversations. But the moment I decide there might be an romantic interest several things happen almost instantaneously. I lose the ability to form words with more than one syllable. I make dumb, dumb, dumb decisions. Sometimes there is some drooling. In extreme instances there might be involuntary loss of bladder function.
You're thinking: That's miles beyond fascinating, but I need a real world example.
Fine. Here's a for instance: A few months ago, for some reason I became very attracted to this girl (x). By the time I asked her out for the first time, I had this big stupid crush on her (A(x)).
That's so sweet, you're thinking. No, not sweet at all. It was more like the Hindenberg right before the hydrogen was ignited. Let's review our equation. A, attraction for girl (x): Through the roof. Therefore, I, intelligence: Down the drain. It was actually quite amazing. I could see myself on a box in the supermarket, just substitute Uncle Ben's picture for mine. Call it Uncle Chadd's Instant Dumbass. Directions for use: 1. Empty contents of box into saucepan. 2. Add any hope of a lasting and meaningful relationship. 3. Observe with mounting horror. 4. Recoil as necessary.
Looking back on it with the glorious clarity of hindsight, she seemed miserable just being in the general vicinity, while I was miserable trying to make something work out. Kind of like fun, but the opposite.
So what's the answer? There are a couple of options. The first is miserable pathetic loneliness. Easy to do, but not very appetizing. The second option is much brighter: Keep trying. That's what I'm doing now, and so far so good. Attraction is rising, and so far the right side of that equation is unchanged. Keep looking for the exception to the rule, the exception that renders the equation irrelevant. Every rule has one. Maybe even this one.