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attraction, as illustrated by
It was a Friday afternoon which meant it was an afternoon for musing and joking and unimportant conversations to distract from the piles of work. Jay and I emailed back and forth about the nature of attraction. "I don't put that much emphasis on the whole physical attraction thing," she wrote. Initial impressions mutate over time after all, and eventually the thing you thought was funny-looking becomes the very reason you're attracted to that person. Besides, Jay continued, "I've always found guys that I'm instantly attracted to to lack anything else going for them." Totally true.
I didn't disagree, but I meant it in a different way. Attraction wasn't "attractive"; it wasn't how someone looked, how pleasing to the eye. I didn't mean it in a "his face is symmetrical and his pants are tight" kind of thing. I meant all the vagaries and specifics that add up in just the right combination at the right time to make you want to kiss someone. How they talk, what they're wearing, the stories they tell, who they remind you of, the things you have in common, the things you don't, the way they wear their hair, the music they like, the books they like, the movies they like, the way they smile when they talk about the things they like, how they smell, how they walk, how they offer to get you another drink, their height, their features, the way they hold themselves, the way they look at you, the way their eyes shine with mischief (or don't), the way they kiss you. And even if all these things fall in line, there is still that ineffable something that seperates a friend from that something more, the thing that makes you look at that person and say, "yes, we should make out." Sometimes out loud.
Most of the people I've dated weren't that impressive at first glance. Cute but baby-faced or sketchy and slack-jawed or with ridiculous facial hair. But then they smile or joke or tell a story or look up in just the right way with the right something in their eyes and there it is. A pull. And as the conversation goes on and you see more of that person coming through their gestures and speech, you are pulled closer and closer or you are disappointed with a false start. That, I said, was what I meant by attraction. To illustrate my point, I mentioned two guys in particular, the two who made the world stop when they were around, and then it was the end of the day and Jay went home and I walked to Broadway to return a pair of pajamas.
There were delays at the return register due to a downed computer, so I stood around for five minutes, waiting for things to come back online. When it finally did, they sent me to another register and I waited some more while the girl behind the counter scanned and tagged and wrote and counted out my refund. As she flipped the bills through her hand I glanced up at the line to my left and the person standing at the front of it. Light-colored hair, an unfamiliar red beard, and eyes that used to turn my stomach into knots. I took my change, thanked the cashier, and tried to take a surreptitious glance as I walked to the door. The beard was new, the lip piercing too, and the pants and sneakers were totally not what I'd expect. He'd put on weight, ten pounds at least, but that face and those eyes were the same; it had to be him. One of the two I'd been talking to Jay about, my perfect illustration of the nature of attraction.
I went outside and called Red. "You won't believe who I think I just saw," I told her, still shocked. "Are you sure it was him?" she asked. He walked out of the store then, so I had a chance to find out. I called his name and in the second before he turned, I thought I might be wrong. "Hey," he said, smiling uncertainly. "I thought that was you." We started the generic catching up conversation, and it was awkward and guarded for a few minutes, and then it wasn't. It was two people walking down the street, having a pleasant conversation and making jokes. He was doing impressive things, travelling to impressive places, and I had interesting stories to share on my end, and it was light and easy as we walked up Broadway. He looked so different from the last time I'd seen him--the beard, the weight, the clothes--but it was the same smile, the same accent, the same sense of humor. The attraction was still there. It wasn't electric like it had been so many years before, but it was there, in some way.
At Union Square we parted ways, me to get on the subway, him to head to the west side, back to work. "It was great to see you," he said, giving me a hug. "You too," I said. "Come to the bout next week." He said sure, and again, that it was great to run into me. I waved good-bye and started down the stairs.