Black, middle-aged Carrie Bradshaw here lecturing on Chemistry of the pheromone variety. It's essential in romance. It's the click when everything snaps into place, making a solid foundation for everything that follows. Without it, the relationship is just a book shelf. With it, with every stomach-churning butterfly, each passionate ground-moving shudder, the relationship is terrifying, unpredictable and breathtaking exhilaration.
That's what I want. That's what I need. That's what I had. That's what I don't have now. The new man in my life is attentive, kind, dependable, and, so far, devoid of any chemical combustion. The good thing is that I have lived long enough to know that sometimes chemistry is a slow cooking concoction. However, I will not accept for long a relationship without it and will put up with one that has it far longer than I should. Life is too short to live it without passion.
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