Knock, knock: It’s Your Brain. It replaced your heart.
I replay those hours, pondering where I stand on the spectrum of decisions and deciding which direction to take. Particularly, in trying to comprehend feminist literature and to carry out what it means to be a strong-headed woman in romantic situations, I feel as though I’m always left as the pawn.
What am I talking about? Actually, this post is more of for me than you. Sorry. I’m trying to clear up my brain and try to understand what happened that night.
I’ll start you off with this: I went on two group setting late night dates and then an actual tête-a-tête night with just the two of us. And all three weren’t enough for this one to let go of his 5-year high-school sweetheart who lives down under. His travel mate, me, and the guy — let’s call him Kahn — knows that there is no hope for this couple in the future: he’s studying abroad in China to further his consulting business in Melbourne and she’s stuck with the koalas. Then where I do come into play?
I was the girl who checked the boxes who was summoned to help him move into the present and look into the future. Yet, as much as I needed this and wanted to do it, I couldn’t do it. I had reached a point in my life that romance and lust weren’t good enough reasons to make a “lasting” memory. I realized that it would only be more fleeting because of the synthetic assembly of our interactions — his mate was clearly adhering to the bro-code to help his mate move on.
Eating my wanton noodles, I told him this: “Isn’t it ironic that the woman takes on the walk of shame while feeling literally empty?” Then flipping over the pieces of lamb skewers, I then further expanded on the concept that women can’t help but get emotional post-intimacy because there is something that has physical exeunted from their bodies. How can a man understand this physical phenomenon when their goal to finish? It’s natural yet to speak of one-night stands that both sexes start on an equal playing field is simply false. The caregiver role that women play in society comes into play here — leading for women in all these movies to belittle the over-emotional females telling the guy they fell in love with them. And after it’s all done women are left to control themselves and move on. What?
Looking back, I’m thinking to myself: why did I even talk about that with him? He checked all of my boxes — and I have high standards. Trust me. Yet, it wasn’t the “he’s the one” that was the problem for me to comply with the demand that was on the table, but my logical feminist brain shut my body down.
And I spent closely two days trying to wrap my head around the series of events that occurred — the rising action then straight to the falling. We went through the natural course of conversations and motions of a proper rendezvous, but then after it all played out, I realized something crucial: not everything is played by the books. It was all perfect, yet the players in the game weren’t ready. We hadn’t clicked the button before the game started, but the game had started without us. But, I needed answers.
Question 1: “So, why did we try?” Why did we set ourselves up for heartbreak? My fingers stumbled across the keyboard one late night as he was en route back home. I couldn’t start packing my own suitcases until I got a concluding answer.
“Because we were both attracted to each other and both had nothing else to lose. We both have high enough standards that when we met someone we actually connect with it made us think ‘why waste this opportunity pretending who don’t want to’, and of course, lust comes into play.” He was already 350 miles away. So, that was that. I wanted a concluding thought from him, and he was on the same page as I was. We both would have matched on any dating platform there was, but still the realistic factors such as his long term relationship and my individualistic commitment junkie brain would have stopped us.
Question 2: Then why couldn’t we finish what we started the first place? I could have just played along. Yet, I was conflicted: as a woman I was glad at the fact that my philosophy as a woman had just shut down my own body from engaging, then despondent at the fact that my body wasn’t willing to play along. The irony is honestly ridiculous.
At the airport en route back to school, I texted him one final message: Mamma Mia 2’s Waterloo. The lyrics — apart from the cliché plot of the movie — are words of acknowledgement. To give into the game seems like a win, yet also losing. Then what was this entire experience: a win or loss? Well, I think it’s a win. I played along to the point both characters decided opt out because our philosophy was something greater than immediate satisfaction. Then I also think it’s a loss. I’m not happy, and I feel like I am void of something that I cannot have.
Sigh. As much as I’m confused about what I want, I have to acknowledge the complexity of trying to do what is best for oneself. And that’s a win in itself. Brain-1, Heart-0.
