"So… what are we?" she asked, leaning back against the park bench. It wasn't the girl with the short hair (that was a whole other cosmological event I’d rather not revisit – a brief, high-energy collision that resulted in nothing but scattered particles of awkwardness). No, this was… well, let's just say my gravitational pull was noticeably stronger around her. My crush, maybe? Possibly leading into a… a stable orbit?
My brain, however, decided this was the perfect moment to stage a galactic senate meeting on the origins of the universe.
"Well," I began, stalling for time, "that's a surprisingly deep question, you know? I mean, have you ever really thought about what we all are? Think about it: Everything, absolutely everything, was once squished into a singularity, a point so unimaginably small and dense it makes the black hole at the center of our galaxy look like a fluffy kitten."
I gestured dramatically, probably looking like a loon. "Then, BAM! The Big Bang. The ultimate cosmic mic drop. Around 13.8 billion years ago, this singularity decided it'd had enough togetherness and started expanding – faster than you can say 'inflationary epoch,' I might add. We're talking faster than the speed of light here, which, according to Einstein, isn't even supposed to be possible! But, you know, the universe does what it wants."
She blinked at me, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "So, you're saying our relationship is like the Big Bang?"
"Not exactly," I hedged, frantically trying to re-enter the atmosphere of the conversation. "But the Big Bang is fundamental to understanding anything, including us. See, after the bang, things cooled down. Tiny particles, quarks and leptons, started clumping together. Think of it like Legos, but instead of building a pirate ship, they're building protons and neutrons."
I was on a roll now, desperately avoiding the Relationship Question. "These protons and neutrons eventually formed hydrogen and helium, which are still the most abundant elements in the universe. It took hundreds of millions of years, but eventually, gravity did its thing. It pulled these clouds of gas together, made them spin faster and faster, and BAM! Stars were born. Nuclear fusion ignited in their cores, forging heavier elements like carbon, oxygen, and iron – the very stuff we're made of. We're literally star stuff!"
"Okay, Professor Infinity ," she chuckled, "I get it. We're all connected on a cosmic level. But that doesn't tell me what we are, you and me, on a… Tuesday-afternoon-in-the-park level."
I winced internally. She wasn't letting me escape. "Right, right. Well, after all that stardust settled, and planets formed, and life somehow, miraculously, spontaneously emerged – which, by the way, is still a massive mystery – humans came along. We started hitting rocks together, drawing on cave walls, and inventing things like the wheel...and then reality TV. It's a mixed bag, really."
I paused, running a hand through my hair. "We fight, we create, we explore. We've even managed to send probes to other planets, and we're still arguing about whether Pluto is a planet. We ponder and
analyze and pretend like we know everything, but honestly, we haven't even scratched the surface of understanding why we’re here, how we got here, or what any of it means."
I looked at her, feeling a strange mixture of awe and panic. “In this vast, probably endless, multiverse… What are we? What's the purpose? What's the meaning?"
I trailed off. The truth was, I didn't have a freakin' clue. And saying "I don't know if I'm ready for commitment" felt far less profound, even if it was closer to the truth.
She looked at me for a long moment, then smiled softly. "Maybe," she said, "we're just two bits of stardust, briefly entangled, trying to figure it out together."
I desperately wished I’d had that answer then. Instead, I'd offered her a lecture on astrophysics and managed to make it sound like a profound statement on our potential relationship. Maybe I should have just said, "Let's get momo." At least momo are easily understandable and always a good commitment.