The Process Of Love

The Process of Love

...the wonderful feeling of unrequited love. Through desire and revenge she had fallen until the very fabric of her being had been filed down to the final notion that was left. Her ‘love’ for him. Although at this point she had transformed the simple feeling of affection into something more dangerous than an obsession. Inflamed was an understatement. She was on fire.
After working for many months with her head down, she was donning heels at a greater altitude, skirts that headed north, wearing jumpers that were brighter; just to get his attention.

And for a while it worked.

Their relationship was fragile, with her overbearing love, constant suspicions and his somewhat planned, apathetic love for her. Each time he spent the night at her apartment her mind would reel with thoughts of ‘he stinks of bitch’, lewd scenes playing out in her mind. But before she could ever open her mouth, he would win her again with sweet kisses and relieving embraces.

His story on the other hand was a lot different. This man’s brain explained things in a different way to others, perceiving that women were just objects, and he could ‘pick them and drop them’ as he pleased. This was before he knew what he was dealing with. He offered her a ‘casual’ love, which gave her a terrifying concern that one day soon she would be alone again, with nothing left but that echo of an amorous word shrouded somewhere in her memories.
All the while as her worries ate away inside her, he slid happily from one girl to the next bestowing kisses of hope onto each one’s lip before trailing back to his faithful, maniacal girlfriend. It seemed to be a perfect routine for him. Beer, night out with the ‘lads’, pull a couple of girls, go home to theirs, wake up…. go to girlfriends. She always cooked breakfast.
Never ‘noticing’ the hickeys on his neck, or the faint lipstick print on his collar, she would happily play the wife to his husband. He was a kind of unprecedented wonder that inhibited her complaining and clouded the reasoning she had struggled to find.

So for a while, they played the game together and submitted to the fact that they were going to be forever together, forever apart.

Then Alice came along.

She worked with the couple, taking the papers from the copier and distributing amongst the dozens of people whose names and faces Alice could never remember. Apart from one. And that was him.
He always gave her one of those smiles that caused her heart to flutter, and her hands to break out in a sweat. But for Alice, she knew how to work men and just how they processed. The combination of a red satin and a smile that was pulled up in one corner eventually made the man hunt after her. Months of the chase ensued, flirtatious glimpses, random calls on her Motorola 8500X, before at last in what seemed like a crescendo of childish excitement Alice and her man finally exchanged carnal knowledge.

The girlfriend found out within days, whispers pass around quickly within circles of females. All it took was a smug word from Alice to set the ball rolling; which she quite gladly spoke.
After his girlfriend had uncovered the truth, her first thought was ‘I told you so’. This was before the storm of love hit her. In her own crescendo of lust and wrath mixed together, her mind ended in a final crack. She knew who this Alice girl was, the papergirl whose lack of income was made up for in desire to win and a plastic smile. Suits bought off the rail, probably a sale item with a hem that just won’t stay up. A foundation that clogs the pores, an orange tint to the skin that just won’t fade. Unwarranted self-importance that just boils the blood to a point where the last thing you can think of is the final option.

She could murder her, she supposed. It wasn’t as if Alice would be sorely missed. Then he would love her again. After many a day spent sobbing in front of ‘Criminal Minds’ with a bucket of cheese flavoured Doritos she could perform the killing herself, easily, providing her knowledge of the incompetent police force was correct.

Her fingers ran over the set of knives that she used to create dinners for him, the glint of the steel seemed to shine spectacularly under her touch. She shook her head three times, removing her hand and leaving her satisfaction at bay.
The night planned was instead spent sobbing her eyes out, shovelling ice cream into her tired mouth, whilst watching Cameron Diaz and Jude Law fall in love. It was the usual reaction to a love that was lost, but whilst the feelings on the TV grew, her own feelings twisted into wrath.

She couldn’t kill, oh no. But she could destroy them both with a simple process.

‘Bitching’. Gossiping. Rumour-spreading.

It was easy enough if you had the popularity, which luckily she did. All it took was a few crocodile tears and forlorn stares towards his desk for the female troops to take up arms. As far as the 12th floor the rumours began to spread.
‘He’s such a bastard’, ‘He doesn’t deserve her love’ and ‘She’s such a whore’ were whispered around the office, being spat out at others whilst glares were bestowed upon the couple.

They left eventually. Alice and her man were sighted from time to time, hand in hand around the city but in such a big place they were rarely seen.

Whilst they remained unemployed and on a permanent vacation, she resumed her work with everyone around her even more pleasant than before.
With a large smile imprinted into her skin she realised her own power over her people. One word from her would damn another member of the office, whilst a good word would elevate them. Fickle people that she owned adored her but love was an area that she could never touch. She had for a while, until it was wrecked easily by someone with a little more fire, a little more soul…..the wonderful feeling of unrequited love.