ALCHEMISTRY AND THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK (or How to Find Something That Hurts Without Really Trying)
I once attended a writer’s conference in Maui. There had to be over a thousand people there, half of them men. And I was attracted to one of them. Just one: the most dysfunctional, admittedly maladjusted, bipolar one of them. I could feel it when he walked into the room. He wasn’t overwhelmingly attractive, but he was wildly intelligent and a great writer. He didn’t use his real name when he wrote which made him all the more mysterious and deadly. There was just something about him. I had found the needle in the haystack and got stuck with it. I had found something that hurt without even trying. Call it crazy. I tended to call it chemistry (and fireworks that burned.)
So I am determined to figure this out. Is chemistry a physical attraction or is it more? It obviously doesn’t always work to our benefit. In fact, sometimes it hurts (a lot.) Is it real or is it imagined? Does he (or she) remind us of Daddy (or Mommy?) Are we finishing (or unfinishing) some business in our past?
If I could bottle and sell the formula, I certainly would. I don’t believe that there is just one person out there for each of us and we obviously aren’t all attracted to the same type of partner. I want to break the code, but maybe it’s different for all of us.
I once had a friend named Sue. She had a face like Nicole Kidman (and the body of roughly one and a half Nicoles.) I didn’t think there was much she wouldn’t put in her mouth, but evidently there was.
One day we were sitting outside having a beer at a restaurant. As she looked around at the guys there, she admitted that she wasn’t attracted to men her age, which was mid-forties at the time. She liked them younger, much younger.
Sue looked over at me as she mused and said, “Think about it….”
“What?” I asked.
“Could you put it in your mouth?” she queried, as she casually sipped her beer and I spit mine out.
“Well, just think about it….” she said, as she surveyed the surrounding area.
And I did. For a long time….years, in fact. That damn question never left my mind when I was looking at a potential mate. I think I hated her for that.
It might be a little graphic, but it made sense. How intimate could I imagine myself being with this person? Could I get past the first kiss? Typically I can tell if a man tries to hold my hand and my reaction is to pull away. Sue had her own (oral) litmus test for chemistry. I suppose that we all do.
I once ended up working for a company run by a guy I had dated twenty years before. The chemistry between us had always been hot, but after all that time I thought I was safe. I wasn’t. It was palpable and everyone else could feel it too. I couldn’t even be in the same room with him. He might have lost some hair and gained a wife in the years that had passed, but he still had “it.” And I still wanted it.
So what happens when chemistry is there in the beginning and then disappears? What makes it go away? If so, where does it go? Does it come back and if so, how long does it take? And what if it isn’t there and then just sneaks up on you? Is it timing or some sort of magical, electromagnetic frequencies? I have had this happen too. Or is it some sort of karmic, spiritual resonance?
It isn’t just about looks, at least for me. It’s something else. It makes my skin buzz and I feel more alive. And I know that I need to have it in a relationship. When I look back over the years, there isn’t a particular type that generated the effect every time. It doesn’t make sense.
A client of mine once made a comment about one of the men I had been engaged to.
“But he’s short and chubby,” he said. “And he’s bald.”
And he was all that. But there was chemistry. Not in the beginning, and I did remember distinctly not (really not) liking him when we first met. So maybe the pendulum could swing in the other direction. Who else did I despise? Was the lack of affect (and flatlining) the indicator that chemistry could never exist?
I want to like and respect my partner, but I also want to want to tear his clothes off. I want to want him to hold my hand. I’m willing to exert the effort, mend my ways, be less analytical, and make promises to God if I could just meet him. Is that asking too much? Just shoot me with that thunderbolt! I’m right here!
But I don’t have the time to waste on another unhealthy relationship or with someone who doesn’t have my best interest in mind so I’ve dodged a few thunderbolts lately. I’ve felt the chemistry and kept on moving. I need integrity, fidelity, companionship, and love, but sometimes it seems like a tall order.
I know that there has to be more and I am willing to wait, but I still wonder. Who are those lucky folks who find chemistry with a “healthy” partner or do all intensely magnetic relationships make us work a little harder for them?
That Little Voice: Chemistry isn’t always a good thing, but sometimes there is a powerful magnetism inherent in the dark side of a person. It’s an intoxicating, primal thing like embracing your shadow and can be just as empty as you are thrust forward by some unseen force toward an elusive sense of completeness (fodder for your next book….Holographs for Dummies.) So carry a big umbrella or stay out of the storm, and find someone who you can actually hold his own, you, and a conversation too.
So I am determined to figure this out. Is chemistry a physical attraction or is it more? It obviously doesn’t always work to our benefit. In fact, sometimes it hurts (a lot.) Is it real or is it imagined? Does he (or she) remind us of Daddy (or Mommy?) Are we finishing (or unfinishing) some business in our past?
If I could bottle and sell the formula, I certainly would. I don’t believe that there is just one person out there for each of us and we obviously aren’t all attracted to the same type of partner. I want to break the code, but maybe it’s different for all of us.
I once had a friend named Sue. She had a face like Nicole Kidman (and the body of roughly one and a half Nicoles.) I didn’t think there was much she wouldn’t put in her mouth, but evidently there was.
One day we were sitting outside having a beer at a restaurant. As she looked around at the guys there, she admitted that she wasn’t attracted to men her age, which was mid-forties at the time. She liked them younger, much younger.
Sue looked over at me as she mused and said, “Think about it….”
“What?” I asked.
“Could you put it in your mouth?” she queried, as she casually sipped her beer and I spit mine out.
“Well, just think about it….” she said, as she surveyed the surrounding area.
And I did. For a long time….years, in fact. That damn question never left my mind when I was looking at a potential mate. I think I hated her for that.
It might be a little graphic, but it made sense. How intimate could I imagine myself being with this person? Could I get past the first kiss? Typically I can tell if a man tries to hold my hand and my reaction is to pull away. Sue had her own (oral) litmus test for chemistry. I suppose that we all do.
I once ended up working for a company run by a guy I had dated twenty years before. The chemistry between us had always been hot, but after all that time I thought I was safe. I wasn’t. It was palpable and everyone else could feel it too. I couldn’t even be in the same room with him. He might have lost some hair and gained a wife in the years that had passed, but he still had “it.” And I still wanted it.
So what happens when chemistry is there in the beginning and then disappears? What makes it go away? If so, where does it go? Does it come back and if so, how long does it take? And what if it isn’t there and then just sneaks up on you? Is it timing or some sort of magical, electromagnetic frequencies? I have had this happen too. Or is it some sort of karmic, spiritual resonance?
It isn’t just about looks, at least for me. It’s something else. It makes my skin buzz and I feel more alive. And I know that I need to have it in a relationship. When I look back over the years, there isn’t a particular type that generated the effect every time. It doesn’t make sense.
A client of mine once made a comment about one of the men I had been engaged to.
“But he’s short and chubby,” he said. “And he’s bald.”
And he was all that. But there was chemistry. Not in the beginning, and I did remember distinctly not (really not) liking him when we first met. So maybe the pendulum could swing in the other direction. Who else did I despise? Was the lack of affect (and flatlining) the indicator that chemistry could never exist?
I want to like and respect my partner, but I also want to want to tear his clothes off. I want to want him to hold my hand. I’m willing to exert the effort, mend my ways, be less analytical, and make promises to God if I could just meet him. Is that asking too much? Just shoot me with that thunderbolt! I’m right here!
But I don’t have the time to waste on another unhealthy relationship or with someone who doesn’t have my best interest in mind so I’ve dodged a few thunderbolts lately. I’ve felt the chemistry and kept on moving. I need integrity, fidelity, companionship, and love, but sometimes it seems like a tall order.
I know that there has to be more and I am willing to wait, but I still wonder. Who are those lucky folks who find chemistry with a “healthy” partner or do all intensely magnetic relationships make us work a little harder for them?
That Little Voice: Chemistry isn’t always a good thing, but sometimes there is a powerful magnetism inherent in the dark side of a person. It’s an intoxicating, primal thing like embracing your shadow and can be just as empty as you are thrust forward by some unseen force toward an elusive sense of completeness (fodder for your next book….Holographs for Dummies.) So carry a big umbrella or stay out of the storm, and find someone who you can actually hold his own, you, and a conversation too.
Comments
Post a Comment