Brain butterflies
A good question is more attractive than an outfit.
Perhaps a tall, handsome man in dark-wash jeans is all I need. Said Mia, never.
For a while I have been trying to work out the connection between intellectual and physical intimacy. The intertwined and messy relationship they have with one another, and the quiet impact they have on the two people involved.
In its simplest form, I don’t think physical intimacy inherently leads to any level of intellectual intimacy. However, if intellectual or emotional intimacy is established, it feels biologically impossible for it not to be followed by a level of physical connection. Once your mind feels seen, your body seems to follow.
When you get a taste of what it feels like when someone can digest and question all of your thoughts like you do, there is no level of physical intimacy that can replicate it. There is something deeply satisfying about being met at the level your brain operates, rather than constantly translating your thoughts into something more palatable or simple. When you can speak freely without editing yourself, it builds a connection that feels expansive and limitless. Where in other relationships you may draw boundaries around what can be said and how things can be articulated, you now feel less need for this. It feels like freedom for your mind.
Instead of trying to express yourself in a way that avoids weird looks, you now only have the responsibility of being truthful and curious. To yap with the sole purpose of expression, discovery and connection is one of my favourite life experiences. It feels experimental and serious all at once.
I know it’s a sign of a stimulating conversation when I feel like I am crafting the answer in real time, without having predetermined what I’m going to say. I spend so much time analysing the way that I think and forming opinions and philosophies that when someone hits me with a question I have never considered, it sparks a particular kind of excitement. A mental electricity that feels impossible to fake.
When you are an over-thinker and you get hit with a question that makes you evaluate, it feels equal to the excitement of catching the eye of a 10/10 from across the bar. You feel seen and heard on a deeper level that the small talk of a classic first date could never compete with. It feels rare and strangely intimate.
However, the same cannot be said for this experience in reverse. When you meet someone you are interested in from a physical point of view, you often feel the pressure to present the most palatable version of yourself. And so you become an easygoing, cool girl. While you find them incredibly attractive and have a great time, the itch for a real conversation lingers quietly in the background.
Talking freely about the things you spend so much time thinking about suddenly feels intimidating. The natural human response is to avoid doing anything that might scare off a potential partner. And so you shrink your thoughts into digestible soundbites.
But then there is a part of you that always feels somewhat unsatisfied, even if you cannot fully explain why. The feeling that they admire the way you look, act and what you say, but deep down you know they do not understand the way that you think. Either because you have not given them the chance to understand, or because you tried and ended up feeling misunderstood or too much. That quiet gap can feel uncomfortably loud.
I am guilty of playing the cool girl and I am not hesitant to call myself out on it. When I think deeply about something and arrive at an abstract conclusion, I often keep it to myself or preface it with, “I know I sound like a crazy person, but”. It’s not crazy and certainly isn’t helpful. We are all human, and the ways our brains work are complex and beautiful.
Things do not have to be simple and digestible. We are living in a world where knowledge and understanding are becoming increasingly homogenised. Everyone has access to the same information at the tap of their fingers. It’s possible that soon there will be fewer experts, and so to be someone whose brain works in an unconventional way may become an advantage rather than a burden. Let us romanticise curiosity and meaningful conversation, so that more people can experience a level of intellectual intimacy that leaves them feeling fully understood rather than simply looked at and heard.
We don’t need someone to understand every inner working of our brains, just to question things as much as we do and meet us at an equal or deeper level of understanding. And if that feels like a big ask, at least we can hold each other tight when our minds are spinning too fast.