And the circuits of different people will overlap at intersections. Three times a week, a boy exits his English class. At the same time, a girl is headed to her Math class down the hall. They can make what they will of the chance encounter. They can pass each other by like this until the end of the semester when their circuits change, when the girl’s classes are in different buildings at different times from the boy’s. They can try to make something of it if the girl is a friend of a friend of the boy’s, and their circuits will change again, except that the intersections will increase until eventually, either a. whatever they have becomes nothing and they lose all but a few random intersections in their circuits or b. they fill each other’s lives so totally that their circuits are nearly identical.

Such is the Science of Bumping Into. Bumping into someone, whether accidentally or deliberately, at certain intervals and places can be broken down to mapping out circuits, calculating velocities between points in the circuits such that you are at the point of intersection at the same time. If the calculations are wrong, or if there is an unanticipated change in the circuit, you may both pass the point of intersection (a hallway, a shop, a sidewalk) mere minutes apart from one another or not pass it at all.

Ensuring chance encounters, as oxymoronic as the idea sounds, is a common activity of close friends and desperate stalkers. The former will have spent enough time with you to know much of your circuit and to know when to visit your house or when you can have dinner out or when you have down time waiting for your evening bus home . The latter will have gone out of their way to know as much as possible about someone’s circuit, the times and places and nuances of it to be able to follow the object of their obsession.Knowledge of your circuit is dangerous information. Someone will know which grocery you frequent every week and will know what day of the week to wait for you there. They can do the same with your usual bus stop or your favorite coffee shop. If they know that everyday, you leave the house at 6:30 in the morning but on Wednesdays, you go for a jog around the village from 5:00 to 6:00, they can join you for a jog or catch you at a street corner, sedate you and take advantage of you somewhere by the village playground.

But that’s an exaggeration, not to mention an insult to all the moderate stalkers out there, the ones just looking for a smile in the hallway or a hello at the waiting shed, just to make the day worth it. I think there’s something of that moderate stalker in anyone. It’s so moderate, you don’t even notice it gradually escalate to the desperate or thoroughly decline to nothing but the memory of a passing fancy.

The trouble of predicting Bumping Into, as when a truck bumps into Daisy in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, is the sheer number of variables involved. You have Time, Place, Velocity and Number of Intersections with other circuits, all of which change depending on the Probability of Extraordinary Happenings. A change in any of the variables, will change the circuit for that day, and occasionally have long term repercussions in the circuit. Here are some examples of each.

• Time: You wake up late and miss the bus and have to take a cab to work, that follows completely a different route from the circuit of the bus. Anyone who usually takes the same bus will not have bumped into you.
• Place: His favorite coffee shop closes down, so he has to frequent another. He and the baristas of the coffee shop will almost completely cease to bump into each other.
• Velocity: She’s just been dumped by her boyfriend and so she sulks through school and walks especially slowly, thus missing several points of intersection with certain friends.
• Number of Intersections: Due to any number of other variables, I’ve run into so many friends and ended up in so many brief hi-hello conversations while walking to the bookstore where I would’ve run into you, but you’ve already gone home.

Thus, so much depends on the Probability of Extraordinary Happenings, the wildest of wild cards. Extraordinary happenings cause chain reactions in people’s circuits. Entire routines of entire cities will be scrapped for the day because there is a public transportation strike. The sheer power of the Probability of Extraordinary Happenings is the only reason scientists would contest the existence of a Science of Bumping Into, because it’s an attempt at creating an order based on a completely random variable, but I guess that’s where the fun is, that we’re in the baby steps of forming a science that involves Physics, Psychology, Sociology, Political Science, Economics, Human Behavior in Organizations and even more.

When we can predict extraordinary happenings, thus deriving the equations for people’s circuits and can therefore do anything with the precise knowledge of how, where and when people live their lives, that’s when we ought to be scared.

In fairness, you brought it up, instead, not as much as I would’ve wanted but the hug was sweet (and so is the little present I left in your bag.)

And yes, I am always incredibly sad when you leave.

Well, what’s great is that I have 23 days when I have an excuse to see you. LOVE IT. Your idea, surely. :P

Wish it could be more. I want you, I need you and to die by your side would be such a heavenly way to die.

Eat me
inside out
taste my innermost fears
and insecurities,
every inch of my flesh
is yours for the taking,
eat me
so we become one
for the wanting, the wanting
the wanting comes in waves.

Sigh, I love you I love you so much, I can’t handle it. I burn and bleed and I curse and pull my hair. I want you to know how I feel.

Friend: You’ve got competition, bro.
Me: Ugh. You call that competition? How the hell can he compete with me?
Friend: Because he’s actually going to say it and he’s not afraid to say it. You’re supposed to be better than him.

That just killed me. I think I’m totally a better match (well, I’m definitely biased) because, I dunno, I think we can feel each other. I guess he feels that way too. Suddenly, there’s a fear of becoming something like him, something of a creepy freak who follows you and gets jealous when you’re hanging out with the Cock Block Squad (who are really fucking annoying, nonetheless. Dang, just listen to me and my bullshit).

I liked tying us together. That was cute and being uncomfortably close to you is sometimes the happiest feeling in the world. Wish we could get comfortably close, and that’s something I really want. Stop shooting the bull and love me already. Make the first move, please? Nothing will ever happen if you leave it to me. :|

Me: Alright, I’ll help you. What can I do?
You: Love me.
Me: *inside* I ALREADY DO, YOU STUPID PERSON. CAN’T I JUST KISS YOU ALREADY, PLEASE?

This morning was very sweet, you lovely monster.

You: What are you doing here?
Me: I was bored at home.
You: So you came here on the off chance that I’d be here?
Me: Yes.

And we waited for your taxi, like in the old days. I missed that. Thank you.

I love you more than ever, but go ahead and take me for granted.