Will this work?

Do you know what I find deliciously odd?

Human connection.

It’s something we all crave. We search for it in romantic relationships, platonic friendships – even in the most casual and brief of encounters. We all crave human connection of some sort. And they all begin the same way:

With an audition.

And with a romantic connection in particular, I feel that there’s something decidedly impersonal about it. But what else is there? We all have to endure the bright greetings and hesitant handshakes; the brush of gentle lips against a flushed cheek. The awkward eye contact and stolen glances that linger a beat too long. But what can we do other than go along with it and actively settle into moments of observation; slow, deliberate assessments of another soul over drinks, dinner, an activity?

All the while, equally unspoken questions either dance or hang heavy in the air:

Will this fit?
Will this work?
Do I want this?
Will they be good for my head and my heart?

We are all, after all, delicate creatures of routine and solitude, and new connections demand a shift; a recalibration of what is familiar to us. And that in itself can be scary; vulnerability requires connection, after all, so we’re immediately on edge – assessing.

Is conversation flowing easily and effortlessly? Or has it sputtered and died too soon? Do our silences bloom, pregnant with possibility, or are they awkwardly wilting? At this point? During this part of the audition? It should be too early to tell, but this is the dance we’ve embarked on, isn’t it?

And so we begin to question ourselves. There’s something lingering, surely? A shared laugh, maybe? An echo of thought reflected in another’s eyes; a flicker of recognition that transcends words?

Are you there, chemistry?

Can you speak up, compatibility?

It’s this… This very specific yet hopelessly intangible thing that keeps us tethered; keeps us lingering on the possibility that this might be it.

Finally.

And so, these initial encounters become a dance; a performance. We present ourselves – a painstakingly curated version of how we’d like to be seen – hoping it resonates with this person whose connection we are craving. We spend time searching for clues and patterns – for signs that this connection might hold some promise.

But the truth – the, perhaps, rather tragic truth – is that very little is guaranteed at this stage. You might be feeling it, but what if they aren’t? What then? 

Think about it. It’s a very delicate dance we throw ourselves into with gusto. Every time. We walk confidently onto a stage before realising that our hearts are exposed – and here we are willingly offering ourselves up for evaluation.

Are we mad? 

But this is what we have to do as we navigate the awkward grace of human connection.

And here’s the kicker; the amuse bouche if you will, of human connection. We tell ourselves that it’s organic – that it’s spontaneous, magic even. But it’s not. It’s an audition we all go on, a performance we embark on; a clumsy waltz we dance, hoping it’s our last.

But as we know with performances, auditions, dances… There’s only ever the faintest hope of an encore.

So, what then?