At the Concert: A Light Show, but Few Fireworks

6Oct/080

At the Concert: A Light Show, but Few Fireworks

The importance of chemistry, really, can not be overstated. I mean, it's always there in the beginning (otherwise, why bother?), but when it fizzles out, what are you left with? Not to be crass, but I already have plenty of friends. I don't expect fireworks for the rest of my life, but I've had the relationship where the flame dies out, and you're friends who kiss -- and only occasionally at that. I've also had relationships that keep a spark. I want the spark.

I should probably elaborate on the kiss with B. It was nice. Just nice. But you need to keep the expectations low for first kisses, right? There are too many other mitigating factors -- extreme nervousness being the main one -- that can make an otherwise good kisser deliver a less-than-stellar kiss. Mediocre first kisses are not a deal-breaker for me. Chemistry can still develop.

So when B. texted me a few days later to say his friend had extra tickets to Dave Matthews and asked if I wanted to go, I thought sure. I don't love Dave Matthews, but my brother, a drummer, raves about their live shows and it sounded like a fun thing to do. Plus, I'd get to meet some of his friends. If you feel that you could hang with the guy's friends, it definitely ups the long-term potential for the relationship.

B. met me at BART, and we drove over to the show. We bought some beers, ate burgers really quickly, bought more beers, and sat down with his friends. B. barely talked to me. He leaned over me to talk shop with his friend. He barely made eye contact. It felt like second-date nerves. I didn't want to talk through the whole show, but the conversation was a bit forced. I was still feeling on the fence.

After, he gave me a ride back to the city, which was sweet. I invited him in, I offered him a glass of water, we chatted for a while, then I said I needed to get to bed. I figured, "OK, that's it. And I'm kind of fine with it." B. put on his jacket, and then he started kissing me. I was a little shocked, but it was better than the first time. At 1 in the morning, we said goodnight.

This is when my brain starts playing tricks on me. There must be some scientific study into the effect of smooching on a woman's brain. The same pattern plays out with me: I kiss someone, I like them better, I want to kiss them more. It's as if all these voices in my head are saying, "He's nice!" "He's cute!" "He's interesting!" and they drown out the voice that says, "Hey, you've hung out with this guy three times now. And yes, all those things are true. But you still are on the fence about him. Maybe it's time to move on."

Part of why I'm doing this whole thing is to listen to that voice more. Because that's the voice that says, "He is a great guy -- for someone else. And you are a great girl for someone else. Stop wasting each other's time." Relationships begin and end every day, and it's not about the individuals, it's about the fit. I was overruling the part of my brain that said, "B. isn't the best fit for you." I continued to overrule it.