Past Butterfly
When they first met, it was an uneasy relationship. She thought he was outspoken, arrogant. One of those who beat to his own drum. She religiously tried her best to avoid him. He, on the other hand didn't think much of her, other than noting that they had similar interests in politics, and that she was beautiful.And then one day the tension broke. On the premise of going on a book jaunt to purchase related books for research, they began to get to know each other. It also helped that they were the only two who committed to the outing.
Chatting together, as he began his usual routine of picking on people in jest, she found herself welcoming his attentions. They had the same taste in music. She enjoyed his crazy notions, the tongue-in-cheek jibes, and the in-jokes began to amass. She kept her cards to herself, giving off mixed signals. It was nice to flirt again, to have someone pay attention to her. And despite already having a boyfriend, she began to respond. It was only after an incoming phone call, that he discovered she was taken. But that was ok. So it meant they'd have to be just friends. Just friends.
Soon they began to take the train home together. He introduced her to his friends, and they started to sit with each other in class. They began to spend a little more time with each other. A msn chat here, a msn chat there. But no more.
A little while later, her computer broke, and he offered to fix it for her. Under the premise that he took away her social life by taking away her computer, they began to talk to each other every night on the phone, discussing the day's class, passing notes and chatting about mundane silly things. And slowly they began to get closer, neither acknowledging the looming truth that she was taken. It was just an inconvenience.
One evening coming back from class as they joked with each other, in the midst of peak hour, he nearly kissed her. At the last moment they drew away. Him reminded at the last moment that she was taken. Her, barely realising what had just happened. She had found a niche for him, a 'guy friend' that she could do, talk, and share just about anything with, without having to 'put out.' He was company. The moment passed and it was like it had never happened.
A catalyst perhaps. As she stepped off the train, a friendly observer asked him how long they had been going out for. And he looked shocked and laughed. And in his mind, he wondered how much he did in fact like her.
In a sms to describe the ludicrous assumption, he laughed it off. She read the sms and laughed it off too. But in her mind, she wondered why he was laughing. Was she not desirable enough for him?
And so she set about breaking down his barriers to protect her ego.
Late night chats.
And the honest admission: "I like you very very much."
And his awkward reply: "I like you too."
And the butterflies started again.
There is nothing like the forbidden to make things exciting. To make a person lose their head. So enticing. So intoxicating. But soon the boyfriend was a forgotten memory, discarded, lying in the dust. He was after all, just an inconvenience.
Guilt set in after the first stolen kiss. And a hypocritical moral sensibility led her to tell her boyfriend the truth - that she had been kissed. And of course that she had allowed it, and kissed him back. He tasted and smelt different. It was new. It was exciting.
And soon the boyfriend was fading. Angry at the aggressor, lost at her reaction, he was still willing to forgive her for her transgressions. But she was lost. She didn't tell him about the stolen kisses that followed.
She excused her actions, pointing to his constant absences. "How can we have a relationship if you're never there?"
And on a rare afternoon when they had some private time together, she admitted that she was bored. She was bored with him. The holes in their relationship reared their ugly heads. She admitted to herself that the relationship was really just a sham. They really had nothing in common. All she'd wanted him for was the sex. And he was never that good to begin with.
Choked with the knowledge that she'd betrayed him, lied about her love, ensared him in her web, she felt compelled to let him down lightly. She made excuses. She used his love against her. Because she knew she could. Like a textbook breakup she used all her fears and transgressions as reasons for the breakup. But she twisted the truth to make it seem that he was the one in fact who had pushed her away. His constant absences, the abrupt phone calls, the dominance of his family, his inability to be punctual.She no longer loved him. She became petty, listing his faults. But always holding back the real truth - she had never loved him in the first place.
And so the karmic wheel turned. In the midst of handing in theses, her new lover broke. "Let's just be friends. I don't want to screw this up. I need to focus on this thesis. I can't be a good boyfriend to you now." And in her confusion, her hurt, all she could think of was, "but we can help each other if we're together. We can support each other." But her pleas fell on deaf ears.
Deserted, alone, the tears began to flow. The thesis got written, and she began to ignore him. He floundered. He attempted to remain friends. But all she wanted was a relationship. And he wasn't willing to play.
Finding solace in music, she returned to her thesis.
The semester over, the hell put aside, she reattempted to become friends. Confusion was the name of the day. He hesitated. In one last ditch attempt to rekindle the relationship, she asked him to commit. And despite his desires to do so, all he could see was failure. He got scared. He wanted to play safe. Conservative. And in the process lost her.
In an analysis of why they had gotten into the mess they had, the revelation came.
"I don't think I ever loved you enough."
The tears rolled silently down her cheeks. The final nail in the coffin. No return. End of the road.
posted by Enigmatic Butterfly @ 4:27 pm
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