You Are Convenient, Not Important
You meet someone at a university, at an event, at your office. You start talking to them. You hit it off instantly. The chemistry is undeniable. So good that you feel grateful to have found them. You start planning conversations with them. Wondering why you couldn't have such chemistry with others. You believe in God's miracles.
Gradually you begin to realise that they don't feel the same inclination towards you. The urgency for conversation that you feel is absent in them. You still have the chemistry, but it's not escalating. You still have the friendship, but the rhythm is off. You still enjoy talking to them, but there's not enough of it happening.
You start to wonder whether you matter to them or not. That they too are pretentious. And this is the mistake you make. Thoughts like these make you bitter towards the world. The only mistake you made here is in thinking that you are important. That you matter to them. You do matter, but the context is important.
Most such relationships exist within a context. They cannot survive if you take them out of it. The context is your environment. Relationships built and confined to one environment, be it a college campus, a corporate office, or a vacation home, can only survive within that particular context. The context provides the foundation of every relationship.
Take away that context and you are left with nothing. No real conversation will exist. Their inner personality will surface. Yours too. You will realise that the chemistry existed because the context provided the comfort. Without that comfort, their insecurities and neuroticism will surface. That might not sit so well with your chemistry. But as long as you don't get to see these traits, you like them.
The chemistry leads to another misunderstanding. You mistake convenience for importance. Most of the time, you are just convenient to talk to. You serve a role. A function. You represent something. You are playing a role in that particular context, and for them, you serve a function. The chemistry is directed at that role. It surfaces because you are fulfilling a function and they are engaging with it.
In a particular context, serving a particular function, everything just clicks. This makes you think you are important. That you matter to them. And then you realise that the same chemistry is not extending to other areas of your life. This is the clearest sign that your connections aren't because of you. They are because of the context and convenience.
That doesn't mean people are using you. They are not. They genuinely like you, but not for your personality. They don't even know your full personality. Not for your feelings. They don't give a shit about that. They only care about your feelings within the context. You cannot open your heart to them. That would push them away from you. And then you will look stupid.
Almost every relationship in your life can be understood from this perspective. We all serve a function in someone's life. We are all convenient. If someone were to serve the same function in the exact same way, we would be replaced. And that's why you will be replaced. The chemistry you think exists, the friendship you think is there, will disappear in less than forty-eight hours.
That's why friendships from college, corporate offices, and childhood don't last that long. As soon as the context disappears, they realise that maintaining this relationship now requires effort. Without the context there is friction. It's easy to talk for hours when you are in college. Outside of it, you have to make an effort to call them, to meet them. Same goes for office colleagues.
The friction makes them realise that it's no longer fun. Sometimes when you meet, you have to bring up the old days. Because nostalgia brings the same context back into play. Without that, the relationship wouldn't have the same flavour. The chemistry would be bland.
Every relationship in the world begins with how convenient you are to someone. Nearly every relationship exists because you are serving a function in their life. This is especially true if you are a man. Men are never loved for what they feel. Or what they think. Or how vulnerable they are. They are only loved if they are doing their duties. Only then will someone bother to ask about your feelings.
And if it sounds cruel, it is. Not bad. Just cruel. I said nearly every relationship, not all. Because there is only one relationship that exists without any context, without any function. A mother's relationship with her child. A mother is the only one who requires no context, no chemistry, no function to be served to love her child.
But if you were not lucky even in that department, my dear friend, you have my heart. Because then you have no idea what love looks like. You have no reference point. You become a convenient doormat for everyone to walk on. I say doormat because everyone needs a doormat, but outside their beautiful house.
So the next time you wonder why certain friendships never lasted, think about the context in which they were formed. Then see how close you actually got outside of that context.
Only those relationships last that also step outside the context in which they were formed. Someone you meet in college who also comes to your house. Knows your dog. Knows your family. Knows about your issues. That person will most likely remain your friend because they have seen you outside the comfort of your context.
If it hurts to know that ninety-five percent of your relationships will disappear the moment you walk away from the environment, then so be it. A truth is easier to swallow than spending years figuring out what went wrong.
The chemistry doesn't mean you have a special bond. It just means you are convenient to people. Never mistake convenience for importance.