Those Darn Butterflies
More than once, I have given most of myself to what turned out to be a complete waste of time. I have repeatedly been a victim of the ‘butterfly fantasy’. Probably because I was exposed a little too soon to romantic stories. Jane meets John, she feels a tingling in her stomach and her insides starts to do cartwheels, Jane later gets married to John and they live happily ever after. The end.
Maybe if this story went on, the way our actual lives do, we find out that at some point in time, the butterflies in Jane’s stomach will die or maybe stop for a while to catch some breath. Then what happens? Where does Jane go from there?
Once I dated my ex’s friend and despite our reservations, the relationship moved on quickly. In like a week I had told him what I would (in my right mind) not tell anyone. Like the media says, I got completely candid and it was refreshing and a tad addictive. We spoke all the time. I would check my phone obsessively to see if he texted. And if he did, my stomach would leap. By the end of the first month, we were already exchanging I love yous.
This went on for about 2 months then one day, nothing. We had nothing to talk about and were literally fishing for conversation. I kept on hoping to feel something, anything but all I felt was a sense of obligation. The butterflies had gone, they deserted me, they just up and walked out on me and I was left in a relationship I didn’t even want to be in.
I kept on telling myself ‘you can do this girl, just walk away’. But I couldn’t. I had told him everything. I couldn’t just walk away and leave him with the figurative blueprint of my life. And we had made so many promises to each other. I couldn’t just leave and render those days of typing away at midnight completely useless. Eventually we got tired of the ‘so what’s up with you’ back and forth and the conversation died. I don’t quite remember who stopped calling or texting but it stopped. And boyy was I relieved.
A couple of days back, a friend and I got talking and he defined butterflies as “the excitement you feel when you meet someone you connect with” and that made so much sense more to me. Because I had a kindred feeling of sorts towards him, I was able to talk and that connection, that zing can sometimes be mistaken for attraction.
I did learn my lesson. Now, when I meet someone and start to have that tingling, I just drown the butterflies with whatever drink is right in front of me. Those darn butterflies will not mislead me again.