The Rules of Love

No matter what lies you’re feeding yourself. It’s just a chemical and neural process. Something you can’t fight. Love is not a lie, but it is not much more than a very special kind of addiction.

An addiction you can manufacture.

Show niceness and attention. Laugh and flirt. Then withdraw. That’s what I did to you.

It’s a very simple effect, primed in our brains from times immemorial – we all need to get the best possible partner. But the best possible partner is too good for us and so he – or she – will try to get away, he will roam more and look for his possible partner.

So the one that chases you is unattractive. The one that keeps you on edge; the one that tortures you with confusion and grows an eternal insecurity in you – that’s the one you love.

That’s why you love me, Brian.

Oh, poor Brian. I’ll have to keep you cold right now, so you don’t grow too complacent. Of course I saw your texts. First a flirt, a role play nearly, then a friendly question to meet up. And I have to leave you cold.

So sorry for you. So sorry that I have to tease you like that. I want to reply, you know, but if I do then you might leave. You might see my insecurities. You might see that I’m not the best possible partner; that I’m just a shy and insecure girl with more body issues then you could count.

It hurts me to see you hurt, but I don’t have a choice. I hope you understand. The addiction is so deep in your mind that you would understand – and if you would know the truth you would do the same to me. You can’t let go, and so can’t I.

I brought you in like this, how can I stop now?

You saw that I gave my world for you. Sacrificed the friendship with my best friend – but, really, it was her that destroyed it. She knew I wanted you, yet she seduced you. Caught you with her smile and laugh and by pulling away just when you were trying to get close to her. I taught her those tricks because I thought she was my friend – but she learned too well. She used it against me. So I had to make sure that you couldn’t like her anymore. That you wouldn’t be able to look at that face, ruined, because of you. She was your girlfriend, right? You should have known she was allergic to shellfish – and yet you give her that expensive Japanese makeup. Should have told me about her allergy when you asked me for advice which makeup to buy. How should I have known about that allergy?

Oh, so sorry Holly. Really, blame yourself for that face you have now. Brian can’t look at you anymore, because now he feels guilty whenever he sees those ripped lips and that scared skin around your eyes, framed in your still far-too-perfect hair.

You even said it’s okay. That you understand that he can’t be with you anymore. Always the hero, right?

Oh, Brian. When you mourned and beat yourself up, I was there, just as long as necessary. And then, when you couldn’t get the smell of my perfume out of your mind anymore, then I was nowhere to be found. “I’m just meeting a friend for dinner,” I said. And when you asked which friend – we both knew what you were really asking.

“Guy or girl?”

And I didn’t reply.

That second text that night, that’s when I knew I was lodged in your mind. Holly was still out cold in her hospital bed and you had seen her face and cried and cried on my shoulder and before she even woke up you were already chasing the next girl. You probably didn’t even realize it.

Chasing me.

That night, with the third text, asking whether I was okay just before midnight – the chemicals were already rearranging your brain. Deleting the old partner. Gearing up for the new and better one. The perfect girl that was giving you attention and then – whoops – suddenly unavailable. Too good for you. That’s when you wanted me.