That. There. Was exactly and precisely how their conversations went. It was utterly brilliant and a breath of fresh air compared to the usual WTF reactions he got from women in the past, who thought he was an intolerable and sarcastic rude ass, with an inner geek streak. Luckily, he was growing out of that intolerable phase. The dreams helped put him on the right path, although he wasn't ever going to lose his inner geek streak. That meant he could follow up that 'no practical application' statement with It might work out, maybe, if it was Fight Club, but we're not supposed to talk about that, because the first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club.
"I'm not SOLAR POWERED," he protested, because no way was he about to sit there and let his delightful hippy fairy girlfriend insinuate that he was his own renewable power source. Like a walking, talking solar panel.
Of course, his gaze shifted off to one side as he puffed on his half a cigarette, muttering, "S'like superheated plasma or summat. Dead useful if m'out in the middle of nowhere and need to start a fire. Or if I lost my lighter."
Because that's a tragedy too, in emergency situations where cigarettes are required. He's going to stand there, looking triumphant, while she's rolling around on the floor, laughing at him. UH HUH!