Chemistry: It's a bitch.

When I was in high school, the powers that be made me take a chemistry class.  I will tell you that I remember just about nothing from the actual course, but I do remember getting my first taste of real life chemistry.  My lab partner's name was Ryan.  He was a year my junior, and he was ridiculously cute.  He had blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a killer smile.  He was smart to boot! 

I have no idea how we ended up paired together, but I'm glad we were.  We talked.  We laughed. We flirted.  We wore nearly identical matching blue plaid shirts from the Gap.  Plaid flannel was in, don't judge.  ;-)

In high school I was shy when it came to guys.  I never went out on a date, I was too terrified.  But Ryan got past a few of my walls, probably just because we worked together and sat together day after day.  We bonded over strange experiments and laughed over things we both found funny.  I had a huge, gigantic crush on him.  Massive. 

That was the first time I remember feeling that electric, spark-laden kind of connection with someone.  Granted, my shyness kept it from going anywhere of substance, but that feeling was still there, coursing between us.  I know it was mutual.  I suspected it then, but was too unsure of myself to say for sure.  In retrospect, I know.

The jolt from accidental touch.  The bubbling pleasure of seeing his sleeve touch my sleeve on the table.  Teasing is flirting, especially in younger years, and we used to hit each other playfully, tease constantly.  It was innocent.  It was pure.  It was chemistry. 

That was years and years ago.  Even though Ryan and I never shared more than a couple of awkward phone conversations and a chemistry class flirtation, he will always be the first boy to trigger that feeling in me. It's good to know that at least at one point, in the beginning, I found electricity with someone good, and kind, and thoughtful.  I am capable of such a thing. 

I worry frequently that something inside of me has malfunctioned, and that I am now only able to feel chemistry with assholes.  Even the guys who didn't seem like assholes at the beginning, if I felt true chemistry with them, they turned out to be eventually.  Sometimes it took one date, sometimes it took more.  But it always came slinking from behind, stating itself boldly, as if I were blind to not have recognized it in the first place.

Chemistry is a delicate thing.  It is fierce and fiery, but it is also rare.  Hard to capture, harder to keep. 

I can't remember what sparks and chemistry feel like outside of the one person I shouldn't feel them with.  Sometimes it feels like such a lost cause.  I wish I could disarm him of this power, unravel the sparks and fire from his being, wrap it up with care and save it to bestow upon the nice guy.  The one I objectively see is attractive.  Talented.  Kind.  Funny.  Thoughtful.  Truly interested.

I don't want to waste this gift on a lost cause.  I want it back.

I need the chemistry.  Where is my thirty-something version of Ryan?  Last time I checked the real Ryan was married, so that won't do. I would wear plaid flannel, Doc Martens and overalls again just to find out....and not just because I secretly miss those things (especially the overalls).  ;-)