I had a rough patch of months and he used to check up on me when he sensed drama brewing. I’d rant for hours and, when I’ve gone beyond verbose about everything I could possibly complain about, he’d throw in his two cents’ worth. His words bore no judgment and enveloped me like a duvet of comfort. In my fucked up state (then!), talking to him was the string of hope I needed, the happy kick I felt I deserved. He was better than a therapist, cheaper than any drug and better for my intellect. I sensed a good kind of change and I reckon without this bloke I wouldn’t have been able to get my act together.
With my newfound strength I’d like to think in a sense I kinda helped him go through his own battles, too. I don’t claim to be the next Confucius, nor do I hold answers to life’s questions and the world’s agonies but I’m sure I’ve given him some stuff to think about as well. I couldn’t have just been the dependent one; it was pretty much give and take. That’s what friends do, right? And we were good friends… really good friends. It was a solid friendship built on real deep conversations and philosophical retrospect. I wasn’t hallucinating at all, it was real and I felt myself become the person I was supposed to be as I saw him transform into a stronger version of himself.
Our closeness was blatant so it shouldn’t have surprised me when I started feeling… funny. But it came like a jolt and as much as it felt good it scared the bajeezwax out of me. You see, he wasn’t really the kind of guy I dated. He felt a bit too safe, a bit too gentle, and (if I’m being honest) a bit too good for my liking. He was the kind of guy mothers adore and fathers pray for their daughters to bring home. The kind of guy girls don’t really flirt with but want to have platonic relationships for the rest of their lives with. He was The One Who Makes It All Better – surely he can’t be The One Who Makes Me Feel… Like This. Surely?
I didn’t know whether it was just adrenaline calling but the effect was overwhelming. Started to overthink things and analyze situations and it was doing my head in. Not a good idea, maybe. But hey… it could be great! Except the whole thing might just get complicated and strange and awkward! I mean, I didn’t think we could ever be too close for comfort anyway! Aaaargh! The incoherence of the situation was absolutely exhausting and I felt like I needed to take charge before it consumed me more than it already has. Fuck my life.
The kicker thought, I guess, was when I figured he may never see himself as The One Who Makes Me Feel… Like This. Not that I’m on a high horse, I’m no creme brulee. It’s just that I feel like he could be The One Who Makes Others Feel… Like This but when it comes to me, I’ve got doubts. I don’t think he would want to because… well, because uh… maybe I don’t make him feel that way. And as a good friend put it… if he actually did, he’s had heaps of chances so surely he’d’ve grabbed the opportunities then? There’s a will and a way. So they say.
And that final question there, my friends, sent me crashing from the high of the hit. What a glorious high it was. What a shit ass crash this is. Detox should really start now.
Now I’m coming up so hard