Love is never enough when not given in equal measure
Well, the title seems rather ominous, and is possibly even a lie, generally speaking at least, but while going through the usual rounds of jokes and collective laughter in one of my numerous fraternities, there was a stark discord between the end of that joyous episode and the moment that followed directly after it. Like an epiphany, one after the other, we all realised that we had been in what we considered absolutely amazing relationships (platonic) that simply didn’t work out the way we wanted. You probably have too.
You know how you just fall in love with someone, despite the flaws, the red flags, and the sometimes glaring incompatibility? That platonic love that’s truly special, where you start talking after an unpremeditated meeting through a mutual friend or where you follow them on Twitter trying to be more than just friends (wink), but end up with a deeper connection you really were not looking for. Where you talk with them literally every day, and text only them, eagerly anticipating the buzz of your phone, hopefully indicating that they have responded to your last text, sent 7.8 seconds ago, all the while ignoring the one hundred and something pending chats on the same app. Where you want to be there for them all the time, genuinely, listening to all their problems and sharing your relatable experiences. Where you both laugh about the rumours that you two are now dating because of how close you’ve gotten. You know? All that…
…All that, that you reminisce upon two or three years later with a sour taste in your mouth, wondering where it all went wrong; why someone that formed a fundamental part of a phase of your life, is a little more than a vestige, but in truth, you know where and even why.
It was when they stopped feeling the same way.
Indeed, it was when your numerous text messages turned to egregious pestering; your stories over call became bland and unbearable; your always being around seemed more closely related to attention-seeking. It was when all you did was no longer appreciated as genuine, or they found someone to replace you. You probably felt that way as well, because the signs were conspicuous. You saw this wonderful relationship lose its spark, and you scurried to keep the flame alive, but no matter how you fought it, that relationship was meant to die. Maybe it wasn’t even just that they stopped feeling the same way; maybe that model — constantly being in each other’s lives — is simply, almost ironically, unsustainable, leading to the same conclusion: that it was simply meant to die.
And with what is dead, you bury it, right? No! Instead you tried to revive it, with the same thought that, although a rarity, people have been brought back to life, and miraculously, you could do the same. So you tried different things — being more deliberate, asking different questions, and maybe even spending more money — and for brief moments, they seemed to be working, you were getting your friend back, but those ephemeral sparks only gave you hope, that you would soon realise was a false one. You went from experiencing that ecstasy that would exude during those soothing moments of a warm embrace, to now shuddering at the sight of them, almost forcefully expressing a subtle “hi” as you pass by them, necessitated only by virtue of the history you once shared, an antithesis to what it is now. And you can’t blame yourself, because you tried. You didn’t want it to be what it is now, and they probably didn’t too, but you’re convinced that they didn’t try as much.
Anyway, back to reality. The conversation brushes over, and Deji (alias), in his usual disconnected vein, sends a screenshot of a funny tweet, and we all laugh at it; the humourous atmosphere returning, leaving the former conversation only another recent memory. Just. Like. That. Relationship.
