The dynamics of magnets have never captured my attention, except during one middle school science test. I can’t remember Bill Nye’s explanation of magnetic poles or electron clouds, yet one lesson from the unit stuck with me— opposites attract.
The concept seems transferable to all aspects of life. Things that, at first glance, shouldn’t go together often make the best pairs—french fries and ice cream, dresses and sneakers, even light and darkness. But in these great pairings, is there a point where opposites become too opposite? In other words, can a fry become too salty for its ice cream, or ice cream too sweet for its fry?
I had never considered there might be a limit before, especially in relationships. After years of watching the soapiest Hallmark movies, I believed that the most dramatic opposites always seemed to complete one another. But this mindset is problematic. People—or fries—should be fine on their own, yet we seek to complete everything as if it was created solely to find its complement.
The standards of compatibility, though, are constantly shifting. Today’s “too salty” is yesterday’s “not salty enough.” We believe things can’t simply be good on their own—they must fit together in a way people can understand, like opposites that complement each other. If they don’t fit just right, their relationship feels strained and is surely doomed.
I believe that things can be good without fitting into prescribed compatibility parameters. If a relationship feels good, it does not have to make sense to you or anyone else. If it makes you smile often, feel paradoxically calm and nervous at the same time, or rush to tell your friends the smallest details, then don’t question these emotions.
We want our lives to be neat, with every piece perfectly lining up like a jigsaw puzzle. When we are given a box full of corner pieces, we jam and cut them until we’ve molded the uniqueness out of our lives.
I think we need to embrace the chaos of a puzzle made entirely with corner pieces. The order of compatibility is boring and can make us feel like pegs in a machine of predestination. Furthermore, seeking the most compatible match makes us forever incompatible with anyone. We tend to not look for goodness, but instead for someone who merely checks off the boxes.
By looking down at these pointless lists, we miss the beautiful chaos in front of us. Chaos is independence. Its randomness shows us that we are autonomous people, capable of escaping the predestination of compatibility.
So, although I’m guilty of questioning the compatibility of french fries and ice cream, I implore others not to be like me. Take surprising attractions as they come. Surprises have a way of sweeping us off our feet and making us believe anything is possible.
And despite claiming to hate surprises, I can’t deny that they feel exhilarating when pulled off correctly. Give yourself the chance to feel that exhilaration by letting go of the picture-perfect idea of compatibility. Make a bold choice and fight for what feels unpredictably right.
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