Chemistry between two people is an amazing thing, isn't it? It can crop up in the most unexpected relationships, and fizzle in the ones you'd expect.
When I was in college, I used to travel on an occasional weekend up to another college in the Cities (Twin Cities, that is). I originally hung out with my MUD (multi-user dungeon, i.e. online) friends up there. But one weekend, through them, I met a guy named Brian.
Brian was tall, very lanky, with a shaved head, piercings, lots of tattoos, and pants two sizes too large for him (before the pants, piercings, and tattoos were trendy, mind you, as this was 1992). Brian grew up in the ghettos of St. Louis and ran with a gang there, but had gotten out by working hard in school and getting a scholarship. I was then an upper-middle-class white chick from a very sheltered background -- very innocent of the world. (OK, so not much has changed.) But for some reason, Brian and I hit it off. There was something about the two of us that clicked into place when we met. From then on, when I went up to that college, it was always Brian I stayed with, and Brian I hung out with, and all of my other friends were peripheral. For some reason, the two of us worked together, and never ran out of things to talk about, despite the fact that we came from completely different backgrounds.
In 1994, I met my ex-husband Greg. On the surface, Greg and I had everything in common. Similar attitudes, similar interests, similar backgrounds. We were best friends, and got along extremely well. As roommates, as friends, we were wonderful together. But the chemistry never clicked into place, despite our wishes to the contrary. Things were easy between us, but never alive with that electricity that you get with really good chemistry -- that almost visible crackling in the air when you're together.
I thought of that this week when I was around two people I had chemistry with. On the surface, noone would put us together. Mike's a hard-partying 22-year old still trying to finish up college. He doesn't listen to the same music I do, or have the same interests. But we were still able to talk for hours, and the chemistry was amazing.
Then yesterday I was talking in the parking lot of work with my friend and co-worker Bogdan. Bogdan is young, frequently immature even for his age. He's reckless and ruthless and materialistic and shallow in some ways, and he comes from an insanely macho society (Romania). Noone in their right minds would think that we could be friends. Yet we are, somehow, better friends than we are with anyone else at work, and our work is full of companionable friends. And I sat in the parking lot yesterday talking with him, and on very flimsy excuses we were touching each other, and laughing at private jokes, and leaning into each other. The chemistry between us was nearly visible, it was so thick in the air.
How weird is that? Now if I could only find someone with that chemistry with all of the other great stuff I had with my ex. Is that so much to ask? Is it even possible at all?
