I met him our first semester in Fall 2014. He was the first friend I made after moving to the city from a small rural town in Northern CA. He was a desert boy and I was a mountain girl. He liked me when we first met; proclaiming his admiration for me while we were dancing, kissing my neck and telling me how beautiful he thought I was. I told him I had a boyfriend. He backed off, we became friends, he got a girlfriend, and my boyfriend moved to the city to be with me.
We had a large group of friends who would hang out and do stuff, creating lots of memories over the 2 years we spent at school.
I can’t exactly pinpoint when I started to fall for him. It sort of just blindsided me. It was like I was so naïve that I didn’t realize that writing each other every day while he was studying abroad in Europe, meeting up on our lunch breaks and after class, calling each other throughout the day, and sharing every bit of myself with this person would lead to such intense feelings.
Graduation was approaching. We were studying for our final finals when I asked him, “Does it ever feel like we’re more than friends?” He was taken aback and surprised, but he smiled and nodded his head in agreement. This is the first of what would be a long and excruciating journey.
I told my boyfriend what was going on. We had previously discussed being in an open relationship, so this wasn’t really a shock or something new for us. Besides, my boyfriend would be moving to go to school somewhere else in the coming fall, and I had plans to stay.
We decided to give it a go. I kissed my best friend for the first time while we were drunk and high on cocaine. He told me he wanted to take things slow. I told him we should date when my boyfriend leaves. He said maybe.
Both my boyfriend and my best friend were unhappy with what was going on. My boyfriend moved away and I told my best friend that I liked him. He told me he was interested in someone else. I was incredibly crushed and angry. I told him I needed space and a break from our friendship. Eventually, things picked back up and we found ourselves in the same old cycle of relentless flirting, constant communication and occasional make out sessions while maintaining that we were “just friends”.
We were not just friends. At least, I did not treat him like he was just a friend. The debilitating depression that he has struggled with since he was 10 years old made the transition to more than “just friends” difficult for us. I had given him so much of myself, and he simply was not able to reciprocate those efforts. He said he was detached and anxious, and could not provide the security and commitment required for a successful relationship. Loving someone who struggles to love themselves reveals a pain that is so incredibly sad but also very honest.
He told me he had feelings for me, that I was one of the most important people in his life, and that he was terrified of losing me and our friendship.
He told me he was broken, and I foolishly tried to fix him even if that meant losing myself in the process.
He told me he thought about me naked, and how bad he wanted to make me come. The past 9 months of sexual tension, attraction, pain and heartache erupted in one night of intense passion. We had explosive, beautiful, raw, tender, rough, orgasmic and fantastic sex. He called it making love. He caressed every part of my body with his tongue and mouth. He played our song: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. It was as if all the emotional pain of the past was exchanged for 3 earth and body shaking orgasms. Now I know what Peaches meant when she sang “Fuck the Pain Away”.
And I forgave him for everything.
I don’t know what’s going to happen with us in the future, and I’m okay with that. I told him that no matter what happens, we’ll be friends forever. And perhaps being his friend is the best thing I can be for him right now. For us.