There’s No Such a Thing as “Just Friends”

To "IMAN"

I’ve had many "just friends" over the years. And somehow I have ended up having sex with them all eventually. Not that I’ve wanted to. Not that I have planned to. It just so happens!

So here I am now, doubting. Having second thoughts again. Not knowing whether or not to believe that to human beings can totally disregard the fact of the difference in gender and sexuality and just be together as friends. Just be together without being together that essential way!!!
If they can, well, that answers the question of me being another member of the human race once more!

This is how the story goes tonight:

We’ve been friends for such a long time now. More than seven years. And we haven’t been friends at all. Not that it’s my fault again. Maybe not a matter of fault at all; not this time. You, as you may well accept and admit, are with everybody and yet not with them. That’s who you take proud in being. Me, I’m the constant oversensitive, over-thinker that I’ve always been and always will be. You must already know that I lead my life by a certain set of rules that may make no sense to anyone at all but constitute my whole belief system. As strange as that may sound!
Having had a number of one night stands that I hadn’t planned to turn out to be just that, having already had sex with more men that I ever liked to, having been in many non-functional sick relationships, having hurt and having been hurt more than my fair share, I’ve made a point of having a boyfriend before having sex!
And yet here I am.

Lying in bed beside you; lying in your arms; with my skin hot beneath your fingers; with my heart beating to your lips; with my breath hanging on yours; your heart pulsing against my palm. What’s wrong with you and me? What’s wrong with me that I can’t figure out the feelings I’ve kept buried deep inside all the years that I’ve known you as a devoted boyfriend with a loving girl beside you? Why can’t I know if what I’m feeling is just the need of my starved deprived body at its prime?

But as you mentioned earlier in the evening, I’m one of those rare unfortunates who not only know what they do not want, but also have figured out what they do want. I know it all. As clueless as I am when it comes to getting what I want. And I know that even the shadow of a doubt can lead to pain and misery and the ruin of all that you and I have held dear and kept alive all these past years. As much as my heart and body beg me otherwise, my mind is warning me against all the pleasure and happiness that you are offering me for the night. I have to stop you. I have to say no to us. For now at least.

My heart goes out to you. I never knew that I was always food for thought. That I was a mystery keeping you awake at night. That I was the only question mark you couldn’t find the answer to. That in your otherwise simple life, I was complicated and complicating. I’m sorry if it was a problem for you. I’m flattered that even though I never knew it, I was occupying your thoughts so much. I’m pleased that I was on your mind a lot. I’m thrilled that I was in your heart so much!

But I don’t use people, the same way I am never used. As happy as you might be to be used to please me tonight, I have to say no. I don’t have sex unless I have a boyfriend. I won’t have a boyfriend unless I’m sure I want one...

Onwards...

If it comes as an effort where should have been easy,
Maybe it’s another sign that it’s just not meant to be.
When you sit in the dark,
When you keep on brooding,
When all you feel is your bleeding heart,
Keep your hopes up and remember:
Life isn’t and should never be all that hard.
The winter snow will soon be melting,
Your heart will soon cease this hurting,
Soon you shall learn to walk on and move on…

She’s Not Your Enemy.

To "SPIKE"

It seems to be the way of life for people to go on and on about the same thing. People repeat themselves all the time. Hardly ever for of the fear of having been misunderstood. Sometimes for fear of not being believed. Some other times to convince themselves more than anyone else. No judgment here!

As different as she is, she’s the same as everybody else in ways. She kept telling you that her feelings for you were gone. It was no game. No matter of revenge. No bringing of pain and harm to you intended. Did you ever believe?

She started off by denying that there ever were feelings. Might have been her well-justified anger. But it wasn’t always about that. Neither about pain or regret. It became a matter of doubt after a while. There’s no denying that there were feelings, on her part. But she doesn’t know what exactly those feelings were anymore. Not for a very long time. Not since you made your last stupid call. Do you remember?

The call when you said you’d call her again anytime you could. When she asked if you wanted to do that for her. When you replied for both of you. And when she said she didn’t want you to do it for her.

That’s when you released her. That was the end. The end of you and her. The death of those feelings she’s had for you for so long.

Don’t you go feeling bad. Feeling that she wants to put the blame on you. It was good for her. After you hung up, she was still there with you for a few minutes; in the depth of her feelings. And then she wasn’t. It ceased to hurt. It stopped to feel right. It was there, and then just wasn’t the next moment. Can you blame her for not believing it was love anymore? Blame her for doubting?

Anyways, she wants you to know how she feels. Wants you to believe what she has to say. If it’s any consolation at all, she wants to confess that she blames herself for what happened to you and your marriage. She knows that she was there with you because things were seriously wrong with your marriage to begin with; and she still blames herself for having been there with you. She knows that your marriage didn’t actually end until months after she had left you to yourself and your wife; and she still feels responsible. She knows that your wife left you for another man; and she still can’t help feeling guilty.

And afterwards, when you were all alone, when you tried to reach out to her in your stupid ways, she wasn’t there for you. Not because she’s your enemy. Not because she wanted you to suffer. But because she couldn’t. She couldn’t because it would have been yet another betrayal. You know she’s had enough of those to last her a life time or two!

She betrayed her own self-respect when she started things with you. You betrayed her by choosing your wife, while betraying the wife by feeling for her. She betrayed you when she fell out of love. You betrayed her when you wasted so much time. It goes on. Isn’t that enough of betrayals?

She wants you to know she’s sorry. Sorry for the pain you went through, whether or not she brought it upon you. She doesn’t wish you pain or misery, the same way she doesn’t wish it for anyone. She doesn’t care either way whether or not you’re happy and successful, same way it doesn’t affect her if anyone else out there in the whole universe is.

She wants you to know that she does miss the good times when you used to be friends; but doesn’t believe in resurrecting the past. She remembers the good times. She despises the bad, and you, sometimes. She knows that it can never happen again. She knows you, and knows that people never change. You are the same man; same temper; same manners, or lack of!

Anyways, she forgives you.
She’s not your enemy…

There’s no Cure for Love!

To "AIDAN"

That’s what they had me believe. What I thought I believed in for the longest time. What I was supposed to believe. But I was born a rebel. And I always question everything. I need proof all the time. I never take anything for granted. Isn’t there?

He, you, cured me from love.
Or wasn’t love there to begin with?

I know it wasn’t lust. As much as I would have liked for us to touch. But it was on the platonic side more than anything. I’ve never been into much more than kissing and hugging and a bit of cuddling anyways. Wasn’t going to change that with and for him, you!
But then again, I was pretty much taken with him, you. Way into deciphering the signals he, you, sent. Too keen on the smile. Interested. Ready. Open to possibilities, all…
And there were sparks alright. Infatuation? Crush? Wanting what’s bad for you? The beginning? Anticipating? Waiting?

The beginning.

And he, you, cured me from it all. And I should be thankful.
Well, I’m not just relieved; relieved that I didn’t have to go through with something I neither knew where to take or how to end. I would have been so out of my element had he, you, chosen differently. I don’t do relationships. Dealing with men is not my forte. I don’t know men. (Not that they know me any better!) I don’t know how to want and hold on and be my proud self at the same time. I always end up losing one to the other. I don’t know how to want and hold on. I don’t know how to be wanted and to give. Anything out there that I do know?!?

It was a good thing that he, you, knew. You at least know what you don’t want. Me that is! Thanks for making it easy on me. Thanks for leaving me a way out. Thanks for making me back off before it was too late. Thanks…
I’ll be around. Can we be friends?...

Don’t you be a first, please!

I first started thinking about relationships and men when I was about fourteen. I started to think about me in relationships and with men. I guess I was a bit too young. Or maybe too old. I don’t really know. What I know as a fact is that though I was never any good at figuring out how to make a relationship work, or at least last, but I was very good at predicting with whom and how I’d be in a non-functional relationship for the shortest time. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?

I don’t know what to call what used to happen to me. Don’t know if it still does. Do you call it premonition, déjà vu, intuition, when you can know if someone you’ve not yet met will love you or at least lust after you? Does it even come in handy to know in advance?
It used to. Used to be fun.
Not anymore I guess.

And it’s happening yet again. I think it is. This guy I’ve recently met, I’ve known about him for a while now. I’ve known him through someone else for some time. And I’ve always felt that there must be something there. Something cool. Fun. Yet deep.
I’ve always known that we will be good friends.
Or is it just wishful thinking?
Nothing’s happening. We’ve met a lot. And I’ve taken all the first steps. Suggesting to help with something I’m trained very well for. Calling. Text messaging. Leaving off-lines. Nothing’s happening, yet.

Today, as I was watching him, I realized that not only he’s not into me, but also he’s not my type at all. And I still want to be good friends with him. Still wanna share something...

I needed some help the other night. I knew you could help me out. Top that up with me being as much into you as I am, I gave you a call. I think you were with one of your many girls. The ones you even pick up on the streets on your free time; or so I'm told. when I asked if it was a bad time you said you’d call me back that night. You didn’t. Not even the day after. And I was waiting.

I waited two days for a call that never came!

I guess you could say I was pretty pissed. And this morning, I did not watch you come through the door. I looked your way too late. Too mad. And there you were, looking my way, with a big smile on your face. A smile for me...

I then realized that that’s what you do. Every time. Ever since I first stopped you and talked to you. Are you misleading me, or am I misreading the signs?
I’ve seen you on five consecutive occasions wearing the same tie. Not into me. And I’ve seen you looking at me like you needed me to smile, to approve. Into me, a bit?

Frankly, I’d hate for you to be the first to prove that my instincts aren’t always right. I’d hate for you to be not into me. I’m a very good friend. I’d be even better with you. The fact that I only have a very limited time left makes it even more fun. And more in need of your most urgent attention.
It’s not like I’m dying or anything, as you very well know. But I’ll be leaving the country in about seven months at the very latest. I want to take away good memories with me. And the best I can come up with right now would be you. It’s besides the point that you are supposedly headed the same way yourself. Think of it this way:
If we work as friends, I could be your extra incentive for moving forward with your immigration plans. And I could be of great help in the studies you need to undertake in order to go. I’m a very valuable asset, and a very fun one.

Don’t lose me!!!

Don’t you be a first…

Is this LOVE?

It’s been a very long time since I last felt the rush; the rush you feel when you are having firsts with someone. The first time that someone calls you on the phone. The first time you call him. The first time he calls your name. The first time you hear the smile in his voice when he hears yours. The first time you find an excuse to talk to him. The first time he finds his. (Will he, ever?) The first time you plan to meet, be it a date or otherwise.
It’s a different kind of high. Not like that of any drug. (Not that I’ve ever tried any!) It’s when your body, heart and soul feel light as a feather; feel afloat; feel ALIVE.
I thought I was cured of my addiction. How could I have gone without for so long?

But I don’t know if it is love. I thought I was in love twice before. Neither time was I. It was infatuation. It was obsession. It was lust. Love? Never. Or is it possible to fall out of love as quickly as you fall in?

The first time I was so young. Not that young actually, for my ID read 24. But it was a first for me, emotionally, physically.
And he was the wrong one. Even in the deepest depts of my emotional madness, not once did I fancy myself with him forever. I always knew. That’s what gained me the reputation of being a man in my relationships; the ability to keep my brains detached, no matter how involved my heart was. I took all the crap for a precious though wasted 14 months before I broke the whole thing off. I had not caught my losses short though. My life, my soul body and heart, were already different. Bruised and broken. Better late than never though, right?

The second time was with the wrong man again. But I was faster in realizing it this time. Faster in acting on my realization. Though I knew how wrong it was from the very first moment, I could not resist the temptation. Blame it on the circumstances. Blame it on my foolish heart. Blame it on my addiction. All I knew was that I was willing to give it a go while I could.
It was very strange when it was over; how it was over. I didn’t regret having lost it for a moment. I felt like there had never been anything to lose in the first place. I felt relieved. Felt ready to live the rest of my life. I simply didn’t know that there was nothing left to the rest of my life.

Until I met him.
He’s a cutie. I’d kill to look at his long lashes and baby-smile all day long; for many days to come. (There goes the man in me again!) But is it love, this time?

I love the high you feel the first time he laughs at one the goofy jokes you make at your own expense. I love to hear him laugh.
I love the rush when you fall in love.
Love to love…

Tears are welled up into my eyes again.

Life can be such a bitch sometimes. Even more so, people. And they don’t even have to be women to be bitches anymore. Apparently not! I miss the good old days when everything had to follow a certain set of rules. Everything was much less complicated back then.

I’m talking about the days when you cried when you were sad; or shouted when you got mad. When you had the right to express your feeling, no matter what. I miss the times when not everything happened to be a game you had to be the winner at. Miss the times when being a politician was just another occupation and not the only survival method.

The thing is, I’m not even old enough to have seen and lived in those good old times. But I’m a pretty smart gal; well, pretty and smart. I’m sure there must have been times like that. Life, the human race, couldn’t have continued all these decades and centuries like this. It’s unbearable.

How many times can a heart take it to be shouted at and insulted and humiliated and not even have the right to respond, I wonder. When will it simply give its bit up?

I’m only 30. Not even exactly 30 yet. It seems so young when I think of all the years of taking this crap ahead of me. Sounds too long when I remember that I have taken the crap all my life. Is there simply nothing else to life? Is it just me? Am I naïve and misguided to hang on to the belief that life is supposed to be happy? And if not happy at all times, it’s supposed to have its moments?

Pooh… I guess that’s the case. Me, being the fool…