I’ve never been particularly good at chemistry.
The kind they taught in school involved memorizing elements, balancing equations, and occasionally wondering whether mixing two things together would cause an explosion.
These days, I’ve discovered a different kind of chemistry. One that involves considerably less homework, a lot more laughing, and occasionally the same concern about spontaneous combustion.
I’ve already established in previous posts that I’m something of a goofball. I’m six foot seven, have a questionable sense of humor, and occasionally say things that probably should have gone through some sort of approval process before leaving my mouth.
For most of my life, I’ve been aware that there’s a time and place for that version of me. Sometimes I need to be professional, responsible, or at least give the appearance that I know how to behave in public.
I’m reasonably good at pretending.
But every once in a while, I’ll be with my girl and catch myself thinking that perhaps I should tone things down a little. Maybe the joke I’m about to make is too ridiculous, the comment too weird, or whatever stupid thought just crossed my mind should probably stay there.
And then she opens her mouth.
Somehow, she manages to take whatever ridiculous thing I was thinking and raise it to an entirely new level of weirdness.
And I absolutely love it.
There’s something wonderfully refreshing about being with someone who doesn’t just tolerate your strange sense of humor but has an equally impressive collection of questionable thoughts of her own.
We can be having a perfectly normal conversation, and suddenly one of us says something so completely ridiculous that the conversation takes a turn neither of us could have predicted. Before long, we’re laughing at something that probably wouldn’t make the slightest bit of sense to anyone listening.
I’m pretty sure there are moments when we wouldn’t be particularly good company for anyone attempting to maintain a serious conversation.
Fortunately, neither of us seems terribly concerned about that.
What I enjoy most isn’t simply that she laughs at my jokes. It’s that she contributes her own. She’s not sitting there politely smiling while I perform my latest collection of terrible Dad humor. She’s right there with me, sometimes taking the lead and leaving me wondering how the hell she came up with that.
And there’s something really comfortable about that.
I’ve spent a good portion of my life adjusting how I present myself depending on the situation. At work, I’m professional. With clients, I’m knowledgeable and helpful. In public, I try to maintain at least a minimum level of socially acceptable behavior.
That last one isn’t always successful.
But with her, I don’t feel like I have to keep checking whether my personality is operating within acceptable limits. I can say something goofy, make a ridiculous face, share an inappropriate thought, or simply be the strange human being I’ve apparently spent decades becoming.
And she can do exactly the same.
We’re still learning about each other, discovering new things we enjoy, and figuring out the little habits and quirks that make us who we are. Some of those discoveries are thoughtful and meaningful. Others probably shouldn’t be repeated in polite company.
I’m enjoying all of them.
I used to think chemistry was mostly about attraction. And don’t get me wrong, that part is pretty damn wonderful too.
But I’m discovering how much I enjoy the other parts. The ease of being together, the conversations that wander into completely unexpected territory, and the fact that neither of us has to work particularly hard to make the other laugh.
I like knowing that when my inner weirdo makes an appearance, I don’t have to immediately shove him back into hiding. In fact, there’s a pretty good chance she’ll introduce him to hers.
And judging by how things are going, those two are getting along remarkably well. I’m beginning to think this is the kind of chemistry I should have been studying in school.
Although I’m fairly certain the teacher would have separated us.