This weekend was…quite a trip wasn’t it. Night one, we drank a few beers, laughed, talked, watched a movie and had a beautiful time. Just like always. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed seeing your smile. Your eyes. I won’t tell you, I should say.
It made me smile that you came in the spare room to make sure I was awake. Thank you for making coffee and leaving it out for me before you left for work. I’ve missed you a lot since I moved away. So far away.
That second night though…what a cluster. I thought I would be able to handle myself better. But, you know me. You know how I drink too much when I get nervous. So… there’s that. I had been planning our conversation in my head for weeks. And then I started taking shots with you. I forgot that I can’t drink like I used to. I’m sorry for keeping you up all night. I’m sorry for blindsiding you with my drunken confession of love. That was probably the most humiliating moment of my life.
I expected your response. I knew I would be rejected by you. But for too long your behavior towards me has been nothing but mixed signals and I could not bear it any more. So please, allow me to redeem myself in this letter that you will never read. It’s the only thing I can do right now. I’m not going to contact you until you reach out to me. I’m too ashamed. And I know you need your space.
So here’s what I should have said (and I should have done it sober):
N – we’ve known each other for almost two years. For the past year though it’s felt like we’ve been more than just friends. I’ve tried ignoring your come ons, I’ve laughed off the times you said we were a couple without a label. But after we stopped talking in August I was devastated and I realized then that I had been hiding and denying how I really felt for you. The thing is, I laughed you off and ignored your advances because every now and then you would conveniently remind me that you’re straight. I know that. Knew it…But your behavior towards me was not that of a straight man. You insist that you treat me the same way you treat all of your gay friends. Unfortunately, that’s just not the case. The tickle fights, the half-dressed embraces, the drunken cuddles, the way you pursue me since I’ve moved…If you were out or I was a woman then all of these things would be very obvious indicators of romantic interest. So why, then, are they suddenly not indicators of interest in our situation? That’s the main reason I needed to talk to you about this. Because either you need to stop doing those sorts of things to me because they just trigger emotions for me or we have a grown up talk and decide how we’re going to proceed in life together.
All of this is what I wanted to say. Instead you got a drunk J who just blathered on and on about how I love you but you insist you’re straight and it’s not fair and you’re so confusing and blah blah blah. Incoherent jabber.
But then…then you came to the party Friday night. You couldn’t wait to get there as soon as you knew I was there. We danced, we drank, we celebrated life. You pulled my best friend aside and told her that you had in fact experimented with a guy before. You told her that you were confused. That you had unfinished business with an ex. Knowing she would tell me, you told her about this stuff. And now I will wait. For you to figure out what you want.
I hope you come to California with me this weekend.
I hope a week is enough time for you to process my confession.
I hope that at the very least we can stay friends after this.
I love you. No matter what shape or label or title goes on the relationship, I love you as a friend first and foremost. And if you so desire, then I will love you as more than a friend.