Soul-spilling, I promised.
You know what it's like to have that friend that you really love, that you want to tell things to and want to make everything better for.
Do you know what it's like when that person is of the opposite sex?
M. and I never had sexual tension, really. We were affectionate, but he's the kind of person that was affectionate with his straight male friends too. The thought of sex never crossed my mind, even when I curled up in his lap to watch a movie or we hugged and said "I love you" at the end of the night.
When he got his heart broken, most people wanted to make him laugh, but I just hugged him tighter, and he did the same for me.
So one night, years ago, we curled up in his bed, talking about love and life, the things that he and I talked about with each other and no one else. I don't really know who kissed who first, only that we laughed when it happened. But we did it again, moving closer, tongues touching...
He's too pretty for my taste, high cheekbones, sparkling eyes, feminine lips, and he kisses like he's spent a lot of time thinking of just how to do it. Me with my dark hair, cut short then, strong features...we had to laugh at ourselves again, and yet...
"Do you want to stop?"
"No..."
Hours passed. Both of us too timid to take the next step, but somewhere in there layers of clothing were shed, bare skin pressed together, covered in nervous sweat. . . he made a noise like a girl when he came.
We lay there for a minute or so, and then he seemed to realize what had just happened, and fled to the bathroom. I went in when he came out, and when I came out he was dressed.
"I'm going to sleep on the couch."
He left me alone. I could hear the TV on late, as late as I sat up wondering how big of a mistake I'd just made.
He was a dick to me the next day. Stereotypical. But this was supposed to be my best friend. Fucker.
Needless to say, our friendship suffered. I tried to keep in touch and he'd push me away. The first time we really talked again was a year and a half later, when I was sleeping with J. Again, as when we'd first become friends, I wasn't threatening because I was with someone else. He drunkenly asked me who was better, and I drove him home, hugged him goodnight.
We'd talk occasionally, but not really. He hated internet conversation and would get mad at me when I tried. Mutual friends kept me posted on what he was up to, and I suppose the same for him.
Last year, I sent a group email passing my new email address out. Got only one reply, from M. He told me he was in Chicago, told me about his job, and I was thrilled to hear from him. Regardless of how our friendship had gotten screwed up, he was my baby and I only wanted to be his friend.
We've rebuilt our friendship slowly through AIM, mostly. I called him on his birthday, but I was still leery of losing what little I'd gotten back.
But he came home for Thanksgiving, and Wednesday night when he walked into the bar, where all of our friends were, my knees shook. We hugged, but didn't talk too much that first night. Thanksgiving evening, about 15 of us ended up at G.'s, and M. flopped next to me on the couch. We ended up with our arms round each other, holding hands for a bit, then one of us would not want to hold on too long and let go. Friday night at the bar, we talked for a while. As usual, I had to say "I miss you" and he had to laugh and give me that eye-smile, the one that's a thousand times more real than any twist of the lips.
Saturday night he called me to meet up, and that made me happiest of all. I didn't want to say goodbye, especially when he told me that he wouldn't be home for Christmas. As we got drunker, the sex jokes came out, and of course later my friends asked me if we'd hooked up again.
I hate that our wonderful friendship has become something that people just attribute to sex. But I am so happy to have it back, even if I don't know how much he's really matured since then.
I remember crying when he left for college before me the first time, thinking that our friendship would never be the same. I don't think 18-year-old me would recognize the directions that it took, but hopefully there's something we can salvage.
You know what it's like to have that friend that you really love, that you want to tell things to and want to make everything better for.
Do you know what it's like when that person is of the opposite sex?
M. and I never had sexual tension, really. We were affectionate, but he's the kind of person that was affectionate with his straight male friends too. The thought of sex never crossed my mind, even when I curled up in his lap to watch a movie or we hugged and said "I love you" at the end of the night.
When he got his heart broken, most people wanted to make him laugh, but I just hugged him tighter, and he did the same for me.
So one night, years ago, we curled up in his bed, talking about love and life, the things that he and I talked about with each other and no one else. I don't really know who kissed who first, only that we laughed when it happened. But we did it again, moving closer, tongues touching...
He's too pretty for my taste, high cheekbones, sparkling eyes, feminine lips, and he kisses like he's spent a lot of time thinking of just how to do it. Me with my dark hair, cut short then, strong features...we had to laugh at ourselves again, and yet...
"Do you want to stop?"
"No..."
Hours passed. Both of us too timid to take the next step, but somewhere in there layers of clothing were shed, bare skin pressed together, covered in nervous sweat. . . he made a noise like a girl when he came.
We lay there for a minute or so, and then he seemed to realize what had just happened, and fled to the bathroom. I went in when he came out, and when I came out he was dressed.
"I'm going to sleep on the couch."
He left me alone. I could hear the TV on late, as late as I sat up wondering how big of a mistake I'd just made.
He was a dick to me the next day. Stereotypical. But this was supposed to be my best friend. Fucker.
Needless to say, our friendship suffered. I tried to keep in touch and he'd push me away. The first time we really talked again was a year and a half later, when I was sleeping with J. Again, as when we'd first become friends, I wasn't threatening because I was with someone else. He drunkenly asked me who was better, and I drove him home, hugged him goodnight.
We'd talk occasionally, but not really. He hated internet conversation and would get mad at me when I tried. Mutual friends kept me posted on what he was up to, and I suppose the same for him.
Last year, I sent a group email passing my new email address out. Got only one reply, from M. He told me he was in Chicago, told me about his job, and I was thrilled to hear from him. Regardless of how our friendship had gotten screwed up, he was my baby and I only wanted to be his friend.
We've rebuilt our friendship slowly through AIM, mostly. I called him on his birthday, but I was still leery of losing what little I'd gotten back.
But he came home for Thanksgiving, and Wednesday night when he walked into the bar, where all of our friends were, my knees shook. We hugged, but didn't talk too much that first night. Thanksgiving evening, about 15 of us ended up at G.'s, and M. flopped next to me on the couch. We ended up with our arms round each other, holding hands for a bit, then one of us would not want to hold on too long and let go. Friday night at the bar, we talked for a while. As usual, I had to say "I miss you" and he had to laugh and give me that eye-smile, the one that's a thousand times more real than any twist of the lips.
Saturday night he called me to meet up, and that made me happiest of all. I didn't want to say goodbye, especially when he told me that he wouldn't be home for Christmas. As we got drunker, the sex jokes came out, and of course later my friends asked me if we'd hooked up again.
I hate that our wonderful friendship has become something that people just attribute to sex. But I am so happy to have it back, even if I don't know how much he's really matured since then.
I remember crying when he left for college before me the first time, thinking that our friendship would never be the same. I don't think 18-year-old me would recognize the directions that it took, but hopefully there's something we can salvage.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
clocknova:
That's a beautiful story. I've got a similar tale which, though it does not involve sex, follows a the same path as yours. We're just now getting back to talking again, though I don't know that we'll ever be as close as we were. I miss her, terribly.
pip:
Don't want to think about sex? Um....this is a porn site.