If We’re Going To Stay ‘Just Friends’ Then Please Don’t Make Me Hope For More
Last night I had a terrifying realization: whatever we have is exactly what I’ve always wanted, and you don’t feel the same.
As you drove me home with the windows down and the music turned all the way up, I decided I needed to kiss you goodnight. Once the car stopped and I thanked you for the ride, I looked into your eyes just long enough to see that you weren’t thinking what I was. I smiled as I told you I’d see you bright and early, shut the door, and escaped with my pride intact. I just couldn’t fathom how that this was all in my head.
At least from my (admittedly delusional) perspective, tonight was exactly what I’d wanted in a relationship, minus the physical affection. Do you wander around the bookstore with your friend? Sure. Do you come home and read in silence with your friend for a couple of hours? Maybe, sure. Do you cook your friend dinner on a Saturday night? Fine. Do you walk with your friend to get ice cream as dusk turns to dark? Of course. I get it; this could all just be friendship.
But friends don’t lean in just a little too close. They don’t grin and slap your hand as you try to change the song in the car or flirt with you in the street at 2 am.
They don’t call you a punk or act like you’re the only two people in the world or talk to you nonstop about absolutely nothing. Or maybe this time they do. Maybe it’s all in my head.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy our constant conversations. It’s quite the opposite, but I still wish you’d stop.
Although I’m trying my best to accept that I’m just a friend to you, the way you talk to me makes this impossible.
It scares me that I could talk to you about nothing all day and all night. Normally I abandon my phone for hours when I’m caught up in a good book, but now I find myself pressing that stupid Home button every two minutes to see if you’ve responded. It’s not like I’m waiting for an urgent reply; I’m checking to find out what you made for dinner or how you responded to my jab at your taste in music.
Strangely enough, I actually care because this is what I’ve always wanted.
I’ve always wanted someone like you. I hoped to find someone who would explore nature and read too many books by my side, someone who would challenge me and hold my interest, someone could cook as well as I do, someone who’d appreciate friendly competition, someone whose shameless love for fall and pumpkin spice everything could rival my own, someone solid, strong, and honest, someone who would change me and make me whole.
You’re literally the person I’ve always wanted, but your heart is with someone who broke it.
I just have to remind myself that whenever you’re with me, you’re probably wishing I were him. Maybe I’m a placeholder. Maybe you’re so used to in a relationship that this form of friendship is how you cope. All I know is that you don’t feel how I do. The truth hurts, but knowing you is worth figuring out how to get over this because you’re objectively awesome and someone I need in my life.
I promise that I’m going to be the best friend to you I can be and not expect anything else, so please don’t make this any harder for me by acting like I’m something more.
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