Compatibility Isn’t King—Love Can Be Built

 Once, I met a travel nurse named Kitty.

Kitty was tall and thin, pretty and sparkly. Blonde like me, with eyes so alive it felt like something inside her wanted to jump out and shake up your world. From one glance in a morning hospital huddle, we clicked.

We loved the same things—our busy nursing lives, our little boys at home, our husbands who encouraged us to be bigger than we might have been on our own. We shared a love for thoughtful conversation, silly humor, and that rare ease of feeling fully understood.

We worked the same hallway that day, swapping skills, advice, and puns so subtle those around us only briefly paused in confusion . The energy was effortless. Patients loved our peppy camaraderie. The unit joked they’d have to separate us if we didn’t stop talking—or reading each other’s minds.

The chemistry was instant.

It was magical.

She stayed with us for months. We delighted in each other when our schedules overlapped. Once, we got snowed in town and I stayed in her hotel. We stayed up half the night giggling and swapping secrets like forty-year-old third graders.

And then we moved on.

We’ve stayed in touch through the years. A part of my heart will always love my troublemaking hallmate. That connection was real.

But then there was Julie.

Julie worked with me too—but the beginning wasn’t warm. There was an accusation at work. Someone thought I’d missed something critical. (I hadn’t.) Julie was the one evaluating my actions.

She was a tough ER nurse. A nurse educator for over twenty years. Fifteen years older than me. Confident, intense, unafraid. The kind of person who had run hundreds of code blues and wasn’t impressed easily.

She reviewed the situation—and she sided with me.

Over the next six years, we had countless interactions. She joined the float pool. We became hallmates. We walked through her divorce, through COVID, through my transition into teaching nursing school, and eventually through her leap into travel nursing after a twenty-five-year career in one place.

Our friendship wasn’t instant.

It was built.

Here’s what surprised me: I love Kitty and Julie the same—but not the same. But if I had to choose someone to work beside—to build something real with—to trust under pressure—it would be Julie, hands down.

The long haul taught me something chemistry never could.

We’ve been sold a narrow idea of how connection works: that love is found, that chemistry is destiny, that if it doesn’t feel easy early—whether in marriage, leadership, or teamwork—something must be wrong.

But the most functional relationships I’ve seen don’t run on magic. They run on practice.

Some of the strongest marriages don’t start with fireworks. Some of the healthiest teams don’t start with perfect alignment. They start with something less romantic—but far more powerful: choice.

Compatibility helps.

But it isn’t king.

What sustains connection—anywhere people work together—is the willingness to stay in the work long enough for friction to become strength. To choose clarity over avoidance. Repair over withdrawal. Presence over checking out.

Friendship isn’t a reward.

It’s an assignment.

People don’t always start out liking each other. They become people who like each other by choosing connection repeatedly and well—by learning how to talk when it’s uncomfortable and by staying engaged instead of disappearing.

Early spark doesn’t predict staying power.

What predicts health is whether a relationship—personal or professional—can face stress without falling apart. Whether people know how to repair instead of discard. Whether they’re willing to keep learning each other after novelty wears off.

Nothing has to feel amazing at every point.

It just has to keep being built.

When communication skills are missing, friction gets mislabeled as incompatibility. In marriages, we call it “falling out of love.” At work, we call it “bad fit.” Often, it’s neither.

It’s undeveloped communication.

Connection isn’t found.

It’s forged.

Over time, shared life creates attachment. Shared work creates trust. Shared communication creates connection. What you build through months and years of showing up becomes strong enough to matter.

Not because it was easy.

But because it was practiced.

🎧 Listen to the podcast: https://open.spotify.com/episode/4vE1dY6rBQxPCoJzNBDa1L?si=qCW0vJsBRpmkVgymH--lNg