Would the physicist trying to solve the equation of love find solutions in chemistry?
“I can’t equate love. That annoys me,” said the physicist. “Why do you want to equate love?” asked the therapist. “So that I can simplify it,” the physicist replied.
Why would anyone ever come to me if love could be simplified, the therapist thought.
“What brings you here?” asked the therapist.
“I can’t solve love,” the physicist repeated.
What the hell, the therapist thought.
"And it annoys me that the chemists might be closer to figuring it out," the physicist continues.
"Maybe you can learn from them too?" "There's nothing that algebra can't solve," the physicist grinned. "But we are all made of carbon, right? Chemistry might help your equation?" the therapist pushed. "Tell me what do you know about love from chemistry?"
“Love, actually, is equal to about 79 carbon atoms, 117 hydrogen atoms, 14 nitrogen atoms, 19 oxygen atoms, and two sulphur atoms— all of which comprise four critical hormones: testosterone, adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin,” the physicist said.
I certainly didn’t open this diary to draw carbon chains, the therapist thought, hoping to find out more about the physicist.
"Have you considered other variables, some that don't make sense?" the therapist continued with a smile. "No." "Maybe that would be a good start," said the therapist.
"Maybe," concluded the physicist. "This was really helpful. Thank you." "Was it? I'm glad." said the therapist, surprised.
⁂
Nah. The carbons also didn’t have answers to the physicist’s quest for solving the equation of love, at least for now. But it made love appear a little less poetic, a bit more informative — and that somehow helped the physicist dealing with a heartbreak.
Sometimes carbons of love are more than just a diamond ring.