February 01, 2021
Who are we?
A part of me - right now.
There's so many things I've been meaning to say, and now, at 11:00 PM when I've spent to much time with my eyes glued to the computer (oh, yeah, poor baby) looking at websites of people I am no longer friends with (oh, wait that reminds me), I can't remember what it is. But then I do.
This is not "hot topic news blog" but it's what I've been thinking about nonetheless. I used to be friends with this guy, and I think we were supposed to actually be more than friends, but I think, at the time, the fact that I weighed 25 lbs. more than I do now was a total turn off to him. I know, I know, it shouldn't matter, but after struggling with these issues my whole life I know it does. So anyway, I think this boy/man - I'll call him BM for short, which will remind me of bowel movement, which will in turn remind me of what a shithead he is/was (yes, if he was a man he would have gotten over a lot of shit he never got over so it makes perfect sense) anyway, this BM and I, we had this unexplainable sexual attraction and we spent plenty of time together and nothing ever happened. And by plenty of time I mean every night that we could have.
I wanted to kiss him, so maybe it was my fault for never taking the lead. I wanted to slip my hand down his pants, to feel his cock, to see if I could make him hard, but for some reason I never felt okay with just going ahead and making the move. I sort of thought he was gay, and basically in denial, and I was afraid of rejection. So I made up this story in my head about how he could love me only so much, or only go so far, because he didn't have the capacity to love another woman when he really was in love with men.
And it worked. For over a year our friendship was amazing. We talked lots. We saw each other almost daily. We laughed harder than I've ever laughed with another human being. We did silly things. We were in love, at least that's what all our friends thought, and that's what he "had the courage" to tell my two best friends the night before I was moving ACROSS THE COUNTRY to try out life on the west coast. I knew he loved me, I guess at that point I just accepted the fact that I didn't have a dick.
Then while I was gone he fell in love with a woman (what, a woman? - yes, a woman). A woman he worked with. And that was fine too because I had fallen in love with the second hottest man I'd ever been with (the hottest man would be the man I'm with now), and I felt alive, and confident, beautiful and sexy. Actually I was quite happy to learn he wasn't asexual (another conclusion I had made about him, NOT that there's anything wrong with being asexual because there isn't). I was relieved that he could love, and he did, and he loved her more than he had ever loved before. Which I guess was obvious in the fact that he asked her to marry him.
And then it happened. I couldn't be happy for him because he cut me out of his life. He said we couldn't be friends. We had never even experienced the sensation of the other person's tongue fighting blindly in one of our mouths, but now he wouldn't talk to me anymore. I called him out on this, because like I said, he was my best friend, and he sucked. He told me that he needed to cut things off because it was like we had dated and he couldn't deal with that (and ex girlfriend) and this (new life).
So, I basically called him a selfish asshole and that was that. We stopped talking. He won. We have never spoken again. And then a few days ago a friend of mine sent me a link to a website all about his daughter. HIS DAUGHTER. A child of almost one year, who's living in a 380 square foot apartment with a man who never acted like a man and his wife. And I've seen pictures of his wife a lady who reminds me of me, only skinny enough to make BM proud, and his baby, and their happy family, and their new house, and all of a sudden I realize that this child, this wife, this family they are so not clued in. They do not know that he could not be friends with a woman that he loved, but could not fuck, and yes, I'm convinced it was because of my physical presence, and that he is a coward, and will always be a coward, because he could not deal with his life, and his prejudices and his feelings, and he refused to ever face me again.
And it doesn't matter now, even though I guess it does because here I am wasting my time (and my wrists hurt) writing about this. Still, I've moved on (and had moved on long before I left for San Francisco), he's moved on, and we've both established ourselves in lives that do not include one another. Yet, it's strange, feeling so close to one person that you can never be close to again. And I do wonder what would have happened had I been the vision he had imagined I could be, and what it would be like if he could see me now (shallow, I know) and would it have been different if I was who I am now?
It doesn't matter. I would never want to be with a BM like him, but I still want to know why he couldn't be my friend. And then I realize that just like his daughter will never know her father's past, how much of my parent's life will I never understand? And would knowing make my think differently of them? I'm just wondering.