Not every weekend do science and courtship converge. But just a few weeks ago, they did for… Not every weekend do science and courtship converge. But just a few weeks ago, they did for me.

One day in late September, my roommate Amelia Rapp and I were checking the guest list for a Mexican-themed South-of-the-Border party we were both invited to. We noticed that a certain humanitarian-type Amelia had been crushing on for months was on the list.

“This is your chance!” I exclaimed. “Better put your TOMS on!”

“He’s so cute, but what am I even going to talk to a humanitarian about?” Amelia asked. “I don’t volunteer!”

“Tell him you buy organic eggs or something,” I suggested. “Humanitarians love that, right? Or I don’t know — ask him what kind of music he listens to.”

At the party, amid the false mustaches and piñatas, Amelia tried her best with the strapping, well-bearded fellow. She started off by complimenting him on his Cosby-style sweater and prayer beads, and she expressed an interest in his student organization. She then told him about her summer job working at a YMCA day care and how much she enjoyed tutoring the kids. She even said she wished she had more time to volunteer at school.

I watched in amazement as the two of them spent the next 45 minutes talking about children, volunteerism and the greater good. But at some point the conversation faltered and then fizzled; the handsome humanitarian abruptly turned away from Amelia, and she sidled away into another side of the room.

I asked her what happened.

“Nothing!” she said. “But that was the problem! The conversation just never moved on — all he wanted to talk about was tutoring children, and, I mean, that’s great but I don’t really care about that stuff. When I go to a party, I just wanna talk about the last movie I saw.”

Earlier that week I was talking to my friend, a Ph.D. candidate in Pitt’s chemistry department, about a concept called click chemistry. According to him, click chemistry involves using elements’ natural properties to create a reaction. Unlike most chemical compounds, joining naturally reacting elements doesn’t require a typical catalyst. And, unlike catalyzed reactions, reactions produced through click chemistry are more mild and more energy efficient. They are also more reliable. In a nutshell, click chemistry takes two things that really want to react to one another and allows them to do their natural thing.

As Amelia told me her story, I couldn’t help but think about my conversation with my Ph.D.-candidate friend. Faraway crushes are entertaining because our fantasies don’t involve conversation. Meeting the crush in real life is bound to disappoint because we’ve built them up in our heads. If we’ve already constructed an idea of who the person is, and what he’ll want to talk about, there’s little opportunity for chemistry and little opportunity for a conversation to naturally click.

Widespread addiction to social media sites kills click chemistry because it gives the most basic of impressions, barely skimming the surface of a person’s identity. We take the catalysts we accumulate from research — an interest in tutoring children, for instance — and use that information to prompt a conversation, rather than letting the interaction occur organically.

We shouldn’t be surprised when our synthesized conversations don’t produce the best reactions. What’s more, a party is probably the worst place to have expectations about our tête-à-têtes. The best conversations are about whatever happens to pop into your head at the time. It demonstrates what kind of person you really are, the way your brain works and what you really love. Planned conversations only work on the TV or movie screen. In life we aren’t really allowed to carry a script. And we will never know ahead of time what a person wants to hear about.

If you see your faraway crush in person, it’s probably best to pretend you don’t know anything about them. Instead of cornering yourself in a one-dimensional dialogue, go ahead and ask what movie he saw last. At least it will be real, and you won’t have to feign a die-hard interest in a topic you don’t really care that much about.

And if you don’t even really want to know what his favorite band is, you know you’re talking to the wrong person after all. Not just any elements will make a good click-chemistry pair. And not every conversation, however organic, is worth continuing.

The next morning, the cute humanitarian sent out a Facebook friend request — not to Amelia, but to our other roommate.

E-mail Caitlyn at [email protected].