I’ve been thinking a lot lately about spark — how important it is and whether it must exist for me to develop feelings for a man.
I met a boy. He’s a for real grown man, actually. He reads. Travels. He has the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. He listens. He’s tallish and cornbread-fed like I like ’em. He has no problem spending money. Plans great dates. Calls or texts every day. He’s consistent. I can be myself around him. And we have fun together. But The Spark is nonexistent. I don’t want to kiss him at the end of the night. I don’t want to see what’s under the black leather jacket that highlights his chiseled arms. I don’t know that I’d want to cuddle with him after a drunken night of too many Jacks and ginger.
What is wrong with me?
He’s not the first. In the last year there’ve been many suitors. One that I liked, we had The Spark. Some were cool to be the homie. Some had epic flaws that I didn’t have the patience to overlook. Others were great guys on paper but that damned spark never showed up.
What exactly is The Spark? I don’t know. But you know when it’s there and you know when it’s not. It’s the thing that makes you giddy like a middle school girl with acne when your phone vibrates and it’s him. It’s when you talk on the phone for hours and one person has to force the other to hang up first. It’s your face lighting up when telling your girlfriends how much he’s into you. It’s blushing when he calls you baé or babe. It’s cowing over in embarrassment when a piece of lettuce is in your tooth because you want him to only see you looking flawless. It’s the organic connection like you can talk about anything — and you do — and it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. It just is. And when it ain’t, it ain’t.
I’ve had The Spark with every man I’ve been in a relationship with. I think. All those relationships ended within two years, all those relationships had some dysfunctional qualities. The chemistry and passion varied from man to man, but there was no doubt that thing that you can’t describe but you know you need it. Now I’m thinking maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe The Spark, and too much of it, is the problem.
At 30, I don’t know if it’s smart to rule out dudes solely because The Spark is missing in action.
On my first date with Green Eyes my girls texted the next day to see how it went.
“We stayed out until 3AM.”
“He opened all doors. Wore a suit jacket and hard bottoms. Was on time. Took me to Chef Roble’s restaurant, Streets BK, in Williamsburg. We never pulled our phones out in the three hours we were at the restaurant. Went to his friend’s new bar. Then went to Bed-vyne before calling it a night. It was a perfect date.”
“OMG. You about to be cuffed before cuffing season.”
“There’s no spark. I don’t think I’m ever going to like anybody ever again. I’m gonna cut him off.”
“Girl, what??? Maybe the chemistry thing will change. Just wait and see.”
“That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. If it ain’t there it ain’t there.”
Dating is bizarre, man. I, an intelligent human being who loves love, am considering 86ing a guy because The Spark isn’t fireworks. It’s not even the ‘hood fire crackers the kids pop on any given summer night.
Or maybe I’ll keep him around and instead of The Spark we’ll have mutual respect with minimum to no conflicts and it’ll be the the healthiest situation I’ve ever had with a man I’m dating.
A girl can dream.