Makeup sex

You know that feeling you have when you are breaking up with someone? That rock that is stuck somewhere in your throat, that heaviness in your chest? The feeling that you just need to end this, to finish this chapter of your life and move on, and then things will be better, the rock will be gone, the heaviness will dissipate? I have had this feeling once in my life, and have had it described to me on the receiving end once as well. And well, yesterday I had it, again.

With math.

It just seemed that every minute I was able to concentrate and think about the mathematical concept I was exploring (having to do with discrete graphs and the way they are divided into smaller graphs by a specific function), was followed by a moment of misery, with the rock in my throat, the heaviness in my chest. This was followed by a few minutes of the mind wandering in unfocused domains and by a few minutes of tracking and redirecting it. And then the cycle continued. Man, talk about efficacy and productivity.
So yeah, it seemed that the break-up was inevitable, we’d both continue in our separate directions. Somehow, I imagined that math would manage just ok on its own. It would be able to use strong, clear-cut logic to understand what had succumbed, to deduce that this was the best step forward, and to systematically continue on its rational path. I? I would be more of a humming bird searching for its GPS till it understands that it has been carrying it for quite some time.

And then today happened. Today? Makeup sex.