Yesterday she texted me.
She is my former best friend. Former because I fell in love with her and then pushed her away. Too far away.
After coming out to myself and being able to confidently write “I like girls”, I enjoy talking to her again. I allow myself to feel all the gooey emotions that she evokes in me. I allow myself to love her.
But before, when I denied myself to feel love or lust for women, I was always angry at her.
I hated her for making me feel the gooey way that I did.
I hated that she knew me like no one else.
I hated how she was so trustworthy.
I hated that she was always there.
I hated her amazing personality.
I hated her beauty.
I hated her.
So in fear, I was a jerk, causing her to not want to be around me anymore.
After all, they say…
It is true. I had no courage. I didn’t even realize that it was not her that I hated. I hated myself. I hated myself for loving her. I longed for her in ways that I didn’t understand at the time. I didn’t understand ‘why.’ I didn’t accept ‘why.’ I couldn’t accept ‘why’.
Well, it’s because I’m gay. I like women. I love her.
It’s been about three years since our friendship fell apart. We don’t communicate much anymore…although if I see her in school we say ‘hi’. Sometimes we talk a bit. But otherwise…nothing.
Because of those three years…I have missed out on spending time with her. She has become a different person. Not in a bad way…she just grew up. So I don’t know her anymore. She doesn’t know me. But I want to get to know her. Although it may be pointless…
Anyway…back to yesterday…
She texted me, wondering if I was going to the Coffee House.
I offered to drive her. I have driven her to many outings. But she drove herself instead. And she was late.
She didn’t see me, tucked in the front corner of the room, when she strolled in all bundled up. She sat with some other friends at the far table. And when she sat down, her eyes instantly connected with mine.
I raised my hand in a salute and she smiled radiantly back.
The night became better when she arrived. I was sitting with other people, not talking to anyone…but that was okay. I don’t mind the silence. It was better because her beautiful, warm eyes would meet mine, every time.
I would be watching the performance, then I would scan the room…perhaps I would take a photo of the performance for yearbook…then as I scan the room again, I would make shy eye contact with her. It went on like that for awhile.
Then the last fifteen minutes of the show, she ran across the room and stole the seat beside me. She leaned over me, smiled and said, “Hey.”
I felt so lame when my heart leapt out of my chest…and then I had this strong urge to pull her into my arms and…meh
She sat intimately close to me and talked to the other people. I sat there in silence, dividing my time between scanning the room and watching the performers. I spent all of my time with a longing resounding in my heart. It wasn’t helping that the lesbian couple a few seats down were cuddling, mocking me.
When all the performances were through, she drove herself home and I, frustrated, reminded myself that she could never be mine. Maybe she could be my friend again…but she could never be mine.