Let’s be real here. It’s been complicated from the start. We’ve known each other for about 3 months now. There was an instant attraction, which led to inevitable flirtation, followed by frequent hangouts that developed into friendship and progressed into best friendship. Throw in a drunken kissing session and you’ve got yourself a summary of our history.
We were both wounded from our past relationships – you more than me. Mine ended on a positive note, but yours sliced an artery. Self-righteous, bitchy super-skanks can have that effect on people. She made you distrust girls, while life taught you not to trust anyone for that matter. Yet at the same time, somehow that siren kept her music in your ears, lulling you back on every whim, just to leave you drowning in the rocks a moment later.
Then I came along. I showed you not everyone treats the people they “care about” as yo-yos. I was there for you when you needed a ride to the store. When you needed help on your homework. When you wanted to go to a party. When you wanted to confide in someone about your family problems. When you wanted to watch a movie. When you wanted to get fast food at 2 a.m. When you wanted to be anything but alone. I was there for every single one of those. No questions asked.
Other people reading this are probably thinking, “This girl is getting played. She has no idea this guy is just using her.” That’s exactly the point: Use me! I’m filling every one of those gaps she and your family left bare. Each time I do, you learn that I am there for you. Those countless number of walls, guarding your heart, gradually crumble for me.
Everyone thought we’re secretly dating, since we’re together every waking moment. There’s no way they could get our friendship based on repair. “It’s complicated, guys,” I said.
Then we got drunk and made out. Well, damn. You admitted you liked me, and I admitted my thoughts about you were complicated since you’re my best friend, and I’m yours. Not to mention you’re still hung up on that Medusa witch. We agreed we would stay friends; we can’t afford to screw up this needy friendship. You said you were too immature for a relationship with anyone, though it’s clear that I’m special to you. No argument there. You told me you didn’t want to hurt me or give me expectations for something more.
The funny part? We hang out constantly one-on-one, have intimate conversations, cuddle, kiss (on occasion), care when the other is upset, allow each other to vent, advise each other on problems, finish each other’s sentences, confide our fears, articulate our innermost dreams, speak in terms of “we,” and spend little time hanging out with other people of the opposite sex.
But the last thing you want is to date. Right?