Chemistry or No Chemistry (and more)

Eye-Opening Moments are real-life stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. In this episode you will hear about Chemistry or No Chemistry  and Roommates from Hell.

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Chapters

• 0:21 Introduction
• 1:01 Chemistry or No Chemistry
• 8:33 Roommates from Hell
• 13:34 Key Takeaways

Transcript

Hello and welcome to episode #132 of Eye-Opening Moments where you’ll hear stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. I’m your host Emily Kay Tan. In this episode, you will hear about Chemistry or No Chemistry and Roommates from Hell. 

Chemistry or No Chemistry
He stood near me, and I could feel tingling sensations. My husband stood close by, and I felt nothing. You may be shocked, but I wasn’t altogether surprised. I am talking about the presence or absence of chemistry between two people. You know it is there when you can feel it. You know it is missing when you can’t feel it. But what about wanting to have chemistry with someone, but you don’t?

Because my new husband exploded in an argument with me about his cars, I had the chance to feel and not feel chemistry all in a few standing moments. I never imagined such an opportunity would present itself, but it happened.

My husband had three cars, and I had none. Since I relocated after marriage, a car became a necessity. Hubby suggested I use one of his cars, but none was suitable. He had a stick shift, which I didn’t know how to drive. He had a large Oldsmobile; I wasn’t comfortable driving a big car. He had the third car, which was an automatic. I could use it, but it was his favorite car, so he didn’t want anyone else to use it. Anson got angry because he had two cars I could use, but I wanted an automatic to feel comfortable driving. I understood his anger but couldn’t find myself driving the cars he offered. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t use one of his cars even though I explained. 

The arguments continued. Then I said I would learn to drive the stick shift, but Anson didn’t want money spent on driving lessons. He attempted to teach me and screamed the daylights out of me. He was a horrible teacher. I shared about it with a co-worker, who told me she knew how to drive a stickshift and would teach me for free. Hubby was okay with that. I started driving the stickshift, and it stressed me every day. 

Hubby came up with another idea. He said he would sell his car if I could find a buyer for his Oldsmobile at the blue book price. Anson thought he had a good idea, but I knew he was devious because he didn’t think I could do the deed. Perhaps he thought no one would buy it at the blue book price, and he was right. Anson kept the car in excellent condition, but an old car is an old car, so who in their right mind would buy it at the price he wanted? He wanted twelve hundred dollars. Many people came to take a look, but no one wanted it for that price. Anson grinned like victory was at hand.

Anson’s great idea led me back to Keith, my first love. Desperate to sell the car so I could buy an automatic for myself, I called my best friend for advice. I had promised never to call him after getting married, but I needed help badly. Keith was my first love and best friend. He had always helped me solve problems. And this time was no different. I explained to Keith about the car problem. According to Anson, I needed to sell the Oldsmobile in order to buy an automatic car. We had too many (useless) cars. Keith asked for details about the car and wanted to lower the price like everyone else. “But he won’t sell it any lower than twelve hundred dollars,” I pleaded. And just like that, Keith said, “Okay, I will buy it for you. I can use it to drive potential buyers of homes.” 

Soon, Keith came over to our house. It was the first time he met my husband, Anson. Anson had no idea Keith was my first love or best friend. He knew I had previous boyfriends and said he didn’t want to know anything about them when I asked if he wanted to know before we married. Anson parked the sparkling clean Oldsmobile in front of the house. Keith walked around the car to take a look, and Anson explained some details about the car. 

There were moments I stood next to Anson and other moments I stood near Keith. I noticed something odd and wondered if my feelings were real. Standing beside Keith, I could feel the jitters on the warm, sunny day. It was like a chill going up my spine with excitement. I could smell his familiar body odor when I stood near him longer. I didn’t particularly like it because it smelled like old dirty clothes that needed washing, but it was intoxicating; I could faint like I was lovestruck. I needed to move away from the fear I would faint. But when I came back close to him, the pulses in my heart fluttered. It was frightening to have those feelings because I was married. It was surprising that it had been over thirteen years since I first met Keith, but here I was, trembling like the teenager I once was with him. The feeling would dissipate when I moved further away from him, and my heartbeat would pump louder when I got near him.

Moving away from Keith, I stood by Anson, my husband, and I felt nothing. Not a pitter, not a patter. Then I walked over near Keith, and the tremors inside of me shook. I could feel the heat from the shake. It was getting too hot; I walked away again to Anson, where I felt nothing. It was like a stranger next to me, only it was my husband. It was sad but true. 

I was never attracted to Anson, but he was persistent in pursuing me and was kind to me before marriage. I wished my husband and I had chemistry, but it was nonexistent. I hoped we might grow to have it, but it didn’t happen. I comforted myself that chemistry was not that important and other things make a relationship. 

The physical presence of Keith, my first love and best friend, excited me. The eye contact or the smell of him was enough to have me tremble like a teenager. Even after many years, it has not waned. You could say the connection between Keith and me runs deeper than Anson if you knew our story, but I say, when it comes to feeling chemistry or no chemistry, it’s either you feel it or you don’t. You usually know of its presence when you first meet a person. You may not understand why it exists but realize it is there when you feel it.

In one circumstance, I happened to sense the difference between feeling chemistry and feeling no chemistry by walking back and forth between two former boyfriends looking at a car. The discrepancy is still a mystery. But that is part of the spice of life!

Roommates From Hell
Trying to sleep on my cot in my dorm room during freshman year in college, one of my roommates, Paula, came in at about 11 p.m. with her new boyfriend. They whispered as they saw me in bed, but they proceeded to lie on her bed. Of course, I wasn’t looking and hid under the covers, but I could hear them kissing. To my discomfort, I endured listening to their kissing sounds and foreplay. How could I sleep? It seemed like an hour or more before the guy finally left. I couldn’t be sure as I dared not get up to look at the clock and have them find out I was awake. Thank God they didn’t disrobe and make out in the same room with me in it! But how did I get such a roommate when I had filled out a roommate survey before college started? Despite getting a few more roommates from hell, I unexpectedly learned something from them.

My other freshman roommate, Kelly, was worse. She loved to keep our door open and invite anyone to stop by our room. She would have our desk chairs surround a trunk in the middle of the room and make a living room for guests to visit. Perhaps she was a social butterfly craving new friends and needed time to sit there and smoke. It was hard to bear, and I hated staying in my dorm room with them. Kelly needed a smoke and people passing by to talk to her to chill. Paula didn’t smoke, but she went along with Kelly. I learned I couldn’t stand smokers and needed some privacy to relax. These two were not my cup of tea.

During my sophomore year, I had my own dorm room and was happy to have my privacy. Friends stopped by when we made arrangements, which was more to my liking. During my junior year, I got another roommate like Kelly, who liked to keep our door open to invite others to stop by. Why me? I cried! It became apparent that I enjoyed my privacy. Other people in the dorm didn’t leave their doors open; only my roommate did. Luckily, she moved out to be with a friend off-campus after a semester.

After decades of not seeing one another, my best friend from college came to visit me. It was the first time Vicky would stay at my place, and we would be painting the town together and having lots of girl talk. I anticipated a lot of fun together. But I spoke too soon. Little did I know she would be a roommate from hell for a week. 

She ate like every hour if we were at home. It was just a bit of something, but she would get a new plate each time and leave the dishes piling up in the sink. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I washed them. She continued to do this and said nothing about me washing the dishes. 

I had her stay in my bedroom while I slept on the living room sofa. I thought myself a gracious host, but each day, I got angrier and angrier. She opened the bedroom door to the balcony and left it open to blow in dirt from the outside air. Why couldn’t she open the window? After she left the room to go to the bathroom, I would close it. She never picked up the message.

You could say it was all my fault for not saying anything, but I wanted to be a good host and not nitpick to affect our friendship. I reasoned to myself that it was only a short time and that I shouldn’t fuss about it. But a small pot of water was bubbling inside of me.

Vicky shared how much she enjoyed her stay because she felt comfortable; it was like home. She said that at home with her husband, she would not wear underwear to sleep, and she did the same in my bed. I was disgusted and wanted to wash my sheets several times after she left. That was one of the last straws; I vowed never to invite her to my home again. And I didn’t.

Why am I so unlucky with some roommates? Is it them, is it me, or is it a little of both? I ponder. Having roommates from hell has made it clear to me what I like and don’t like about someone living with me. Privacy or quiet time is needed for me to reflect and relax. A smoke-free and clean environment and consideration for others are all essential for me. I learned more about myself and what I can or cannot tolerate. There is always a lesson to learn from disasters!

Key Takeaways: Though I had chemistry with some people and not others, what matters is relating with others.

Though I had roommates from hell, I learned my preferences for whoever lives with me.

Next week, you will hear about two real-life stories called Unnoticed Freedom and From Materialism to Minimalism. If you enjoyed this episode of Eye-Opening Moments, please feel free to share it with others, support the show by clicking on the link in the description, or go to www.inspiremereads.com and leave a message. Thank you for listening!