That “Thing.”

I witnessed chemistry the other day.

Standing but a mere distance away, I watched with rapt attention as two strangers having brunch at the bar began conversation, the first of many, I’m sure.

I feigned disinterest; after all, two singles at a bar are just bound to talk to each other, but I couldn’t help but steal glances their way, jealous at the ease in which they synced with one another.

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed the fairy tale “love at first sight” happen with other people. There was one time I was traveling on the plane and the row in front of me lovingly talked the whole three hours it took to fly to Seattle. And I remember the guy that bumped into the girl on BART, and the easy conversation that ensued. Let’s not forget the undeniable connection I witnessed at a little shop in Placerville, a palatable connection I felt between these two as I was shopping.

The hopeless romantic in me longs to be a recipient of such a connection, though it seems as though anytime someone asks me about my love life, my answer is very reminiscent to that of Rose describing the lapse in time from the Titanic sinking to now:

Men are pretty much nonexistent in my life and it seems as though every time I brave myself for the rare date and the commitment of putting myself out there, nothing ever comes out of it.

Time and time again, I get myself all worked up, all hopeful and optimistic that maybe, my 24-year boyfriend drought is finally ending and I’ll be asked out on a second date, only to be let down.

I see this “love at first sight” happen to other people and I wonder why it’s never happened to me.

Now this isn’t a post about me complaining about the lack of men in my life, or a pity party where I’m seeking validation and assurance that there’s someone out there for me, it’s a chapter where I’m focusing on what I’m missing, this so called “thing.”

I used to believe that I was missing that “thing” that appeared in every other girl besides me. This “thing” was something that men were attracted to, and I always thought I was somehow born without it. Was it because I was intimidating? Timid? Unattractive, too much of an investment to get to know? Too weird? Too punny? Too much of a nice girl? What “thing” did I not have that inspired a second date?

I only ever get insecure like this when the idea of a man pops into my life. I’m going about my routine, focusing on myself, my writing, the future, and my happiness, and this guy shows up and all of a sudden, I’m fantasizing about a future with him because I finally feel like I’m the part of that love at first sight fairy tale.

Except it’s never love at fist sight. It’s more like “infatuation out of loneliness.” More often than not, I like the idea of the guy more than who he actually is. I confuse compatibility with chemistry and end up over analyzing everything because while my body screams “hell yes he’s the one!”, my heart knows that I’m just longing for companionship, and he’s not the right companion for me.

This “thing” I’m missing isn’t something I lack that other girls have. This “thing” is something that’s unique to each and every one of us and is meant to be shared with someone who’ll complement it, who will appreciate and cherish it.

Sooner or later, the right guy will fit his “thing” with mine.

*if ya know what I mean ;) ;)

The chemistry I witnessed at brunch this weekend was undeniable, and it’s something I haven’t felt yet.

And that’s okay.

If anything, it opened my eyes and made me realize that when it does happen, this “connection”, I’ll know because I’ve seen and felt what it looks like. And I’m willing to wait for something like that.

I’ll be willing to wait for someone’s “thing” to be my “thing.” And those two lost things will no longer be missing, but found, with each other.