Life's Like That: The perils of perfection in conversations

Khaleej Times

a day ago

Am I planting a bomb under my own feet? Looks like, but I thought I should share this story because it's unbelievable how the human mind works. Is it an unwritten chapter wrenched from my own life or something 'forwarded many times' on WhatsApp? Let me have the right to be tightlipped on the source for the sake of my mental and physical wellbeing.
But before you jump the gun, let it be clear that I'm assuming the role of the chief protagonist to make the narrative as intense as possible. And this story is about the perils of perfection and the pain of immortalising love.
She and I were good friends, not very long ago. Maybe still, but more than — or less than — just friends at the moment. As in any relation, conversations were hectic and intense in the beginning, but not so frequent midway and finally tapered to the level of 'good morning', 'good night' and 'sorry, busy'.
Finally, the desire to meet up and binge on craft beer at Windmills outside Kempegowda died out like a can of tonic water that has lost its fizz after the expiry date.
After several months, we left like a couple on their way back from a Swiss honeymoon, beaten high and dry by the wuthering heights of an alpine of merriment and chapped lips not moistened by lip locks anymore. On our lacklustre journey together, we were strangers at times, an estranged couple waiting for the final hearing in their divorce case at others, and occasionally like two long-lost soulmates yearning for a reunion.
Then on a not-so-fine morning — after months of cold-shouldering each other— abuses started to fly, not exactly an exchange of fire, but a one-way trade. She was always on the boil, finding fault with whatever I did to keep her comfortable. Every feel-good message was met with a volley of words that teetered on abuses.
'Sorry, I cannot keep replying to your messages,' she said. 'This cannot be a full-time job.'
'No issues, take care and your time,' I replied.
'Did you send me a message past midnight? Didn't I tell you I sleep with my mum? You are becoming a pain,' she asked the other day.
'Did I? I am so sorry.' I knew it needs two hands to clap so silence was golden at times like this.
Yet on another occasion, she said: 'How could you do this to me? You are questioning my morality and integrity. John and I have been childhood friends so going for a movie with him shouldn't be giving you a heartburn. Are you stalking me?' She literally exploded on the chat.
'But I only said I was also free. John has been my friend too ever since we met.'
'Haven't you heard three is a crowd,' she shot back.
'Listen, I don't put all the eggs in a single basket. Different people in my life have different levels of freedom. I won't want anyone to question my integrity.' She seemed to be furious. 'It's my life and I live it the way I want to.'
Insensitive, upcountry boor, patriarchist, Casanova, male chauvinist, misogynist were some of the less serious charges thrown randomly at me. She indulged in all sorts of whataboutery to shout me down.
But why should I give room for anyone to question my integrity? She isn't my life partner. Not yet. Moreover, I never gatecrashed into her life. It was she who knocked on the Messenger. I was cosy and peaceful in my little cocoon, never compromising on the tranquility that prevailed in my life.
I was aghast at the pile of toxin gathering in our relationship. It was no more the little frets and fumes commonplace in every relationship. The ills were already metastatic. They showed up in every cell of our souls. Call it quits? I still maintained calm, hoping to salvage an otherwise beautiful relationship. It's possible she has internal struggles, family issues, a faltering relationship. 'Calm down, everything will be alright,' I kept saying.
'How dare you call my dad a cheapskate for not offering tea when you gatecrashed the other day? You weren't there for more than a minute. We aren't running a juice shop to produce things at someone's beck and call.'
Did I call him a cheapskate? Never. I only mentioned they had a room with a view and I wouldn't mind having a cup of coffee there.
Enough of the filth. Do I deserve to be out in the cold with a hailstorm battering me all around? Why am I being punished for no reason of mine? Who is she to push me around and what's her intent?
I thought it was time to part ways. If ever a reunion happened, it would take a lifetime to clear up all the accumulated filth. After months of unsettling silence, we met on a hilltop on my request, away from all prying eyes.
'How have you been?' I asked politely, staring straight into her eyes. 'I have been so caring, loving and understanding. Why did you still hate me?'
'I never hated you,' she said, looking at the slanting sun. 'I was afraid I was falling in love with you. Madly, and frighteningly mad. I did all this so you would hate me forever and go away,' she said, her lazy curls flying in the wind and eyes welling up.
'But why?'
'It was so overwhelming. Your love, your care, your perfectness, your integrity, your loyalty all belittles me. I was sure I wouldn't be able to return them in the same coin. There were times when I so desperately wished to be shouted at by you.'
'Twenty-four carat is too fragile to make ornaments. Why are you so complete?'
'Besides, I have commitments to my parents to keep.' She sobbed into her palm as she began to walk down the hill. The sun setting in the russet sky beyond the golden fields was so perfectly beautiful to behold.