Tom stayed over again last night.
We had the most amazing 24 hours together, playing the card game of Game of Thrones, Netrunner and generally geeking out. We made a pizza dinner, watched movies and generally it was an amazing weekend.
That’s the problem. It was amazing.
I love spending time with him. I realised that that feeling was happening when you treasure just being with someone. He’s very special. The best friend I’ve ever hand. But no more than that – just a friend.
Sometimes I ask myself if I want more and I think not – I just want to stay best friends with him. But others I’m not so sure. When I wake up with his warm weight next to me, I can’t help but think how much I wish he would put his arms around me. Sometimes I have to stop myself from holding him. He’s beautiful, kind, generous and sweet.
Well, we insult the living hell out of each other. But in the most affectionate way. As Austen said – “is general incivility not the very definition of love?”
Love. It can be such a dangerous and deadly word can’t it? After some of the experiences I’ve had, I feel like I don’t even know what love is. How can we tell when it’s love and when it’s just infatuation?
Even if Tom and I were free to explore the feelings we have for each other, I believe we would hesitate. I wouldn’t want to sacrifice what we have for a relationship.
But of course we can’t. Tom is taken.
I’ve often said that the only two people who can understand a relationship are the two people in it, but I can’t understand how he puts up with PJ (“Poisonous J”). From what I’ve seen the man is nothing short of vicious. How can someone so good and sweet end up with someone who’s personality seems to border on mean?
Granted, PJ has never been charmed with me (and I will admit, grudgingly, he may have grounds) but he seems determined to find fault with me at every turn. The smallest nuances and social graces which i fail to confirm to he uses against me over and over for weeks.
Perhaps a part of me hopes that someway, somehow, Tom and I could one day explore being more than friends.
Part of me knows its nothing unusual for friends to disapprove of partners.
General incivility may be the stalwart of true affection, but it seems to me that, unfortunately, there are as many forms of incivility as there are of love.