Attraction, or How the Frankenstein Paradox Changed My Life

 Let's talk about attraction.  It's a mysterious force that somehow draws us to someone who - on paper - might not check many of the boxes our younger selves thought we were into.  That's the funny thing about what people call "chemistry".  When we're younger, attraction seems like it's all Chanel No. 5 and sex appeal - until you grow up a little and realize it usually boils down to dollar store aftershave and rejection.  You spend your whole life thinking you're looking for a Brad Pitt or a Jennifer Lopez.  What you fall in love with is someone who leaves a wet towel on the bed, clothes lying beside the hamper, and squeezes the toothpaste in the middle (sorry, my love.)  But here's the kicker: you're happy!

You see, I used to think attraction was all about symmetry, bone structure, and the ability to make entering any room look like walking a fashion runway - without the eating disorders.  I think we all do it.  Perhaps my wife assumed love would sweep in with movie-star good looks, smoldering blue eyes, and the kind of hair that bounces in slow motion.  Then she met me - a guy who may take on many roles in my lifetime, but being the lead in a high-gloss music video as the front man for a hair band will never be one of them.  And that's where the Frankenstein Paradox comes in.

The Frankenstein Paradox, Loosely Defined

  The Frankenstein Paradox, as I've coined it (watch out, Mary Shelley), is this strange yet endearing human tendency to love the monster you've created.  Now don't get me wrong; not a monster in the "horrific, bolts in the neck" sense.  More like: we're often attracted to people from the pieces of our pasts, our patterns and dysfunctions, and our deepest desires.  

In other words: we don't fall for perfection.  We fall for someone who feels like home - leaky roof, questionable Star Wars wallpaper and all.  Okay, Star Trek bath towels, too! (We don't talk about the Enterprise themed soap dispenser anymore.)

I realized the truth of this when I started actually paying attention to the kinds of people that caught my eye in real life, both my friends and my wife.  And it hit me like a lightning bolt powering up my personal Frankenstein: I was attracted to imperfection.  To comfort.  To chaos that matched mine.  To someone just human enough to make me feel safe, and yet challenge me to be a better person.  A friend once told me his wife (who still makes him school-boy-giddy after 20+ years) is a mixture of his past five failed relationships with better hair.  Case in point.

Exhibit A: Brad Pitt and Jennifer Lopez

Okay, let's talk about Brad and Jennifer. The man and the myth. The woman and the icon.  Together, they've been the touchstone of attractive for the better part of 30 years.  They've been the target of paparazzi fueled ambition for decades, and I'm pretty sure they both smell like confidence and 5,000 dollar per ounce moisturizer.

But you know what Brad Pitt doesn't do?  Lose his keys or misplace his wallet four times a week and blame the cat who likes dragging slippers around the apartment.  Jennifer Lopez doesn't fall asleep and drop her new phone on the floor.  Brad doesn't have a bizarre medical condition he refuses to get checked out because it "probably won't kill me."  J.Lo probably doesn't snore, and Brad doesn't eat cold pizza over the sink unless he's shooting a scene for Oceans 33.  

And that's exactly the problem.

Perfect people are exhausting, and they don't leave enough room for your own hilarious mess.  You're left feeling like a dusty lampshade in their spotlight.  You can't build a life together with that, because you can barely get through dinner without feeling underdressed.

So no, I'm not attracted to Jennifer Lopez, and my wife's not attracted to Brad Pitt - she's attracted to the guy who sometimes uses a fork to eat cereal because all the clean spoons are in the dishwasher.  She's attracted to the guy who has strong opinions about brands of soda crackers and peanut butter.  I'm attracted to the woman who believes she has to apologize  when she needs to pause the movie to run to the bathroom, and asks what she missed when she gets back.  That's real love.

The Science of Imperfect Attraction (Probably)

There's no hard data to back this up, but I'm willing to guess that if you asked most couples what initially drew them together, they'll say something along the line of, "We just clicked," or "He made me laugh," or "She was wearing mismatched socks and I admired the honesty."  I don't think you'd ever hear "His cheekbones set a model of mathematical precision, and her emotional availability made Dr. Ruth look like a recluse."  

Attraction may be a little about looks - but much more about recognition.  It's when your future wife looks at you after three years of awkward attempts to talk with her and thinks, "Ah, yes.  This one. This glorious mess speaks my language."  It's an emotional echo.  It blossoms into shared chaos.  And it's oh, so romantic.

The Frankenstein part?  That's when you realize that everything about them that is imperfect and slightly out of control is okay with you.  She has an awkward laugh.  He has a bizarre sweet potato allergy.  Her "I'll be ready in five minutes" is not truthful, but is still a lot closer to the truth than his "I'll be home in five minutes."  Those things, you find out, are not only okay, but are exactly what makes them magnetic.  They're a patchwork of traits you didn't even know you wanted, and that's somehow the reason it works.

Marriage: The Long Game of Attraction

If you think attraction is important when you're dating, just wait until a ring is put on it.  That's when you discover that the attraction goes beyond mere looks.  How?  At some point, you will watch your significant other floss aggressively while humming I Will Survive off- key, and it will give you butterflies fluttering in your gut.  That's the real thing.  Or indigestion.  But 99% the real thing.

Marriage is where the Frankenstein paradox matures.  It's not just about being drawn to imperfection - it's about loving through, in spite of, and because of it.  It's my wife looking at me and realizing I'm a strange, quirky, off-beat overthinker who has ideas and habits that would annoy her coming from literally anyone else.  It's her looking at me after a particularly bad dad joke has been told in public and thinking, "Why did I marry this idiot?" followed by an immediate softening into a smile and gleam in her green eyes that says, "because he's my idiot."  Like she said on our wedding day, "It's forever, baby!"

Over time that attraction deepens and stops being about appearances and starts being about the shared rhythm of life.  Inside jokes.  The way you instinctively grab her hand in large crowds.  The way you order each other's coffee just right even when you're upset with them.  The way they look at you sideways when you park the car perfectly straight at Walmart - after six tries.

That's Frankensteinian bliss.

Okay - So Hot is Still Hot

To clarify: I'm not saying that physical attraction doesn't matter, because it indeed does.  What I'm attempting to prove is that it evolves.  At first, you might think your future spouse looks like a Picasso that met a locomotive at full steam heading for Plaintown.  But then he consistently makes you laugh.  Or you start to notice things like the way their eyes light up when they do laugh, or how they become breathlessly excited when talking about something they love.  Suddenly, they're the most incredibly beautiful or roguishly handsome person in your life.

That's the paradox: you fall in love with the parts that shouldn't be sexy but are.  The snort laugh. The turkey-call hiccups. The way they dance so confidently to everything like it was an 80's synth-pop song.  The way they down snack foods like they were competing in a professional sport.  You Frankenstein together your own definition of beauty, and they fit it to perfection. 

In Defense of the Monsters

This post wouldn't be complete without defending the monsters.  Truth is; we're all a little monstrous - stitched together from our past experiences, old wounds, learned behaviors and inherited survival instincts.  And yet we keep trying to find that someone who we believe is out there, the one who will accept us, neck bolts and all.

Yes, the people we love are far from perfect.  They're flawed, weird, frustrating and occasionally disappointingly loud, especially when their brothers are around.  Sometimes they are forgetful and occasionally unintentionally hurtful.  But they're ours.  And when that kind of attraction is real, it holds strong even when the lighting is bad.

I believe the key to lasting attraction isn't about avoiding the monsters. Don't even try, because it could just be about recognizing that you are one, too - and finding another who thinks your scars are gorgeous.

Final Thought From the Lab

What's the takeaway?  Stop looking for Brad and Jennifer.  Instead, focus on finding someone that hugs you when you've had a hard day.  Someone who remembers your favorite guilty pleasure is the Bee Gees.  Someone who knows you hate confrontation, so they go to battle for you if necessary.  Someone whose weird fits your weird seamlessly.

Some say that in every relationship, there is one who reaches and one who settles.  I don't believe that's true.  Because if two people are both reaching for what they have decided is beautiful, there are no settlers.  Only two people who appreciate each other's messes, mix-ups and triumphs.  Two people who make each other feel seen, heard, and loved.  Not because they're perfect, but because they're so similarly not.

They have a word for that.  Home.