chemistry

“I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it — to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once.” 

— Haruki Murakami

I dropped biology in sixth form. It started getting too chemistry heavy. I never quite grasped how components match with each other or what atoms do. In real life, chemistry is a fool’s game. The concept of being “head over heels” for someone: the concept of a connection. The realist inside always knows the outcome: failure. The romanticist keeps hoping; keeps building castles in the clouds. Why is romance easy for other people?

This morning, a friend lamented to me that her skinny love was moving towards its expiration date. And I told her: “you deserve someone who chooses you.” Meanwhile, I never fall for people who choose me wholeheartedly. People only choose me when it’s the most convenient for them. 

I don’t think I will ever understand this one. He admits the chemistry and the attraction are both there. Then, it begets the question: why can’t this be explored further? I’m already hurt. I’m already frustrated. I’m already anxious. I’m already semi-attached to the idea of a person I barely know because of one night of pure ecstasy and ongoing philosophical conversations. I never felt this before. Or, I haven’t felt it in a while. And, maybe, because of the longevity of the absence of such a feeling, I forgot what it was like. He said that he was going to be selfish when fielding potential partners. He did not find the spark he was looking for with me. 

I asked – “then, what was the first night?” He replied: “I got caught up in the chemistry.” I must have walked for an hour across the city after this conversation. 

Where had I heard this excuse before?

Everything seems to always lead back to you. 

I often think about your blue eyes: the way your silky honey-blonde locks felt when I stroked your hair to comfort you. You said you loved my scent. I fell in love with you. That moment in my kitchen when you exposed your vulnerability: when you cried in front of me for the first time. Meanwhile, you got caught up in the excitement of the contrast between us. And then, you realised you still had feelings for your ex-fiancée, and that your heart only had space for her.

"What was all of this?" I asked you, broken. 

Your reply? "I thought you were just being friendly... in your Mediterranean way...and then, it was our chemistry...I'm sorry." 

Even you couldn't have been that ignorant. 

She broke your heart again, soon after, when you visited her in Berlin. Wasn’t it ironic that the woman you pined after led you to Berlin on a false notion, only for you to find that she had in fact moved on? Alas, then you came back to me, tail between your legs. But, my heart and soul were already desensitized to your never-ending game of emotional chess. 

There was someone else after you: a connection with a long lost flame back home. It was a thinly veiled attempt of mine to forget you that summer: the connection we had. That’s all. I tried to forget your scent; the way your fingers felt when they intertwined in mine, the way your warmth would soothe my skin when you held me. And then, then I got addicted to the idea of him. I made myself sick on the fantasy of what could have been between us had I not left my home country. I desperately wanted to delete you; to replace you. It was easy for you to move on. It hasn't been the case for me.

I miss our connection, but I’ll never tell you. You broke what was left of my heart, amo. 

This summer, I’m back to where I was last year: wrapped up in yet another chemistry, with no prospects. I’m in a different country, again, repeating the same pattern of self-destructive behaviour. Sometimes, I want to replace my skin; I want to forget what the touch of their hands felt like on my body. 

After my walk, another friend called me in the evening. It was perfect timing. 

I asked him, “am I stupid this time around?”
This friend knew of our short-lived, bittersweet romance. And well, he said: “if you already have a premonition that it is going to be a repeat of what you went through last year, then perhaps.” 

I promised him that, this time, I will be detaching myself before I fall further. It's time for me to move on from this.