MAGNESIUM // LGBT+ Romance 🖤

Dull

Parties have a certain air to them. Whether it's the smell of alcohol lingering on people's breath... the creeping tendrils of smoke spreading from rooms that were meant to be off-limit... the heat and sweat from moving bodies steaming up the windows... or the sound of people's voices, varying in tone, volume, raspiness as they scream and shout in ways that tell you they know that they are making memories - good or bad. The oxygen is laced with something that infiltrates your bloodstream and causes a chemical reaction of some kind. It's different for everybody - I assume we all have different chemicals inside of us that lead to different reactions.

Many young people have traits like CPPO powder. The air of the party is a mixture of sodium acetate, ethyl acetate and hydrogen peroxide. Mix the substances together and it will glow in the dark; you might not expect it. And it's different and interesting every time, depending on the colour; maybe it's the quiet girl that you work with, on three glasses of wine and finally coming out of her shell on the dance floor. Perhaps it's the cocky, too good for you boy from your lectures, drinking a couple of beers and having a meaningful heart to heart with someone he'd never talk to otherwise. Or it's someone who is known for being uptight and strict, letting go after a round of shots. The results are often entertaining.

Then there's the sodium metal. Unusual; soft and only shiny on the inside, until it is exposed with oxygen. This is the opposite of CPPO powder; these people shine in their own time. Met with the air of a party, they shut down and hide their traits. It's boy from your book club who beams when discussing the wonders of Stephen King, but stutters when offered a drink. He's afraid to drink it; he doesn't know what it will do to him, or if he'll like it. The girl you met online who vents and cheers in tweets, but falls short for words in groups. She is terrified of embarrassing herself, with or without the alcohol, but the pressure of the party brings on that fear tenfold. Then there's me; the girl who came here with her boyfriend, telling herself it would be fine, but wants to crawl into a hole because strangers are trying to make eye contact. She doesn't know them; she doesn't know their chemical makeup. She doesn't know who they are, what they want or how to react to them - how they'll react to her. She forgot that she never reacted well to the air of the party and she regrets coming.

I've always seen myself as sodium metal. I'm drinking cider at this party. With a straw.

I assume many men must have manganese heptoxide infused into their bones. A party, to them, is like mixing with potassium permanganate; the minute the two are combined, it's a disaster waiting to happen. They start off as exciting and interesting, the life of the party, but they easily become angry and dangerous, ready to combust at any mere interaction. I'm sure some women are like that too; but in this case, the study is my boyfriend. He drinks whiskey and vodka. I came to this party in hopes to bring us closer; we had been dating since the first year of university and in the year and a half since, I'd grown weary.
Walking into his bedroom after not seeing him for a week wasn't exciting.
Sitting on his bed whilst he played video games and yelled at the screen did not entertain me.
Venting to him about my work load as he shrugged off his own wasn't reassuring.
Opening up to him as he furrowed his eyebrows and eventually changed the subject wasn't comforting.
Kissing him wasn't romantic.
Being with him wasn't right.

As a last ditch effort to make some kind of connection with him, maybe spark a new flame in our burnt out relationship, I suggested we come to this party; sometimes I felt that maybe it was my fault our relationship had dampened. I wasn't interesting enough. I didn't do the things he did. I avoided groups and loud noise and confrontation and dirty jokes; he loved all of the above and more. He mocked me for being so dull. I wanted to show him I could shine. I suggested the party in hopes to do exactly that, only to find myself feeling twice as dull as ever.
He clearly was not interested in my sad, un-shining metal. He was looking for the CPPO's, or the other manganese to hit it off with. Someone with glow, someone with spark.