“Uhh, 18 yards. That’s my house there with the blue front door.”
– William Thacker, Notting Hill.
It’s that time of the year again. And by ‘that time of the year’ I mean ‘the time of the year when we get to vote in Triple J’s Hottest 100’. Obvs.
I am yet to vote because I am still compiling My List, but something that I can say with surety is that I do have a particular soft spot for this song. (That’s “Instant Crush” by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas if you couldn’t be bothered to look at the hyperlink.) It just makes me want to dance. No, actually, it just makes me dance. God, I love it.
It’s a funny notion the idea of instant attraction, isn’t it? I, being the romcom-loving cheese ball that I am, adore those moments in movies when the two characters who we all know are going to end up together meet each other for the first time. Hollywood has a way of making those moments – whatever they are – sparkle. The result of this for me is that I am always, secretly (well, no longer so secretly), on the hunt for these moments in my own life. And if I can’t find them sometimes I go ahead and create them. I don’t recommend trying that one at home. I am sure you can find something better to do with your time and plus, you end up looking and acting like a stalker. Cute!
I know there have been many scientific studies on attraction – dissecting it into factors, variables, chemicals, hormones, the symmetry of facial features, scent and body language. However, I am no scientist – sorry to disappoint – but I have done some of my own fieldwork, I guess…
A few weeks ago I decided I’d give Tinder another whirl. Yeah, I know. Again. My ego wanted a stroke and there’s something about that notification of another Tinder match that is disturbingly unparalleled, ok? Online dating of any sort is a funny thing. Expectations, hopes and reality can collide in such volatile and surprising ways. It becomes a particularly funny thing if and when you get around to meeting up with someone.
Their photo caught your eye. Their blurb made you smile. You start chatting. They seem nice. They ask if you want to meet up. You accept. (And then you stalk them on as many social media platforms as you can think of.)
You drive to the date with the vague comfort that you already know this person a little. Well, in a way. But as you’re sitting at the appointed bar/cafe/restaurant waiting for them to arrive it’s all a game of chance, isn’t it? They’re going to walk in. Say hi. Sit down in front of you. And then, within seconds, perhaps less, you’ll know. All of your online conversations and analyses of their profile pictures become irrelevant when you make eye contact for the first time.
There’s a pair of green eyes – clear sea green – staring back across at me. We fill the gaps in the conversation with glances in opposite directions, deliberately wasting seconds. I part with an “It was nice to meet you” as I give him a peck on the cheek and turn to walk across the road.
Then, on the other hand, attraction can catch you off guard, arriving with a thwack to the side of your head…
You have mutual friends and you happen to go up to the bar at the same time at a recent gathering. You haven’t spoken that much before, but you get chatting and then you end up sitting next to each other later on.
As it turns out they’re lovely, interesting and they have substance. Laughter intermingles with the Pimms. And then you turn to properly look at him. There’s a pair of eyes – a tie-dye of tropical waters bordering upon a reef, with a ribbon of golden sand winding its way between the aqua and turquoise – and they’re utterly mesmirising.
Later you’re lying upon the floor with your mutual friend and she happens to bring him up during the conversation. It is then that your brain starts to put the pieces together.
I don’t think you are.
You can’t be.
Hold on a sec.
Actually… I think you could be.
Here we go again. Perhaps. I think.
Oh, and Happy New Year, chipmunks.