I miss him. And I wonder why I do. So much time has passed and so much has happened between us. Surely I should haved moved on?
It started one night, 4 years ago, when he offered to send me back after a night of drunken debauchery. And I let him. I was in a jubilant state, having just passed one of the most difficult exams in my field and he just so happened to be there to celebrate with me. He was a perfect gentleman, who dropped me home and left without so much as say or try anything funny. I felt safe with him.. and it marked the beginning (and set the pattern) of our little liaison.
We both seemed to be carved out of the same tree... with a common desire to party till we dropped, always on the lookout for the next club to hit as the night was always still young and after which we’d head out to each others place so we could enjoy some quiet drinks with each other after.
It was all very platonic. He was always the perfect gentlemen, never one to misbehave when drunk. Plus, I had a boyfriend at the time. A non-present boyfriend as it was a long distance relationship. Which I guess was the perfect recipe for disaster as I chose this guy to have a good time with considering my boyfriend was never around. Cheating you say? Of course not. I wasn’t doing anything other than just party with him after which he’d drop me home safe. (Ha!)
I called him my party-man.
Soon, party-man started asking me to hang out with him more and more. From parties, it became drinks after work, then dinners and drinks, then hanging out with his buddies, then came the movies and the shopping escapades. I helped pick out the furniture for his new apartment. I was supposed to help him pick out the curtains and also the pictures to adorn his wall. But our drama started soon after, so right now 3 years later, his place is still without curtains or pictures. Trust a man to procrastinate these things.
I initiated our first kiss. Drunk.
I had decided I was breaking up with my boyfriend because I was obviously starting to like my party-man. So one night, after our usual partying circuit, I ended up in his place and was planning to stay the night being in no condition to drive back. I was in his room about to change my clothes when he walked in to see if I was okay. I don’t remember the exact sequence of events considering how intoxicated I was, but he was seated on the bed…I think I had pushed him there. And I sat on top of him and kissed him. It didn’t go further than kissing. We slept in each others arms that night.
And then, he initiated our first kiss. Sober.
The next day, I was lying in his arms, pretending to watch tv but really, I was very conscious of his constant glances at me and the movements of his fingers up and down my arms. My heart was beating like a drum and I was pretty sure he could hear it. Not entirely sure of his intentions, I turned to face him. We gazed into each others eyes for a moment, then his lips slowly descended onto mine.
It wasn’t the best of kisses. Nor was it the worst. It was somewhere in between. Slightly awkward as it was definitely new territory but thrilling at the same time. He wasn’t very pushy with his tongue, which was a first for me because all the guys I’d kissed before loved shoving their tongue into my mouth. Him… he was milder, but not in a bad way. I liked the way he drew my tongue into his mouth and let me explore. It made me feel bold.
Weird how I remember these details.
Our relationship soon after became a haze of dinners, nights out in town and make out sessions back in his place. At some point we slept with each other. Soon, I started spending my entire weekends with him and sometimes, he even dropped me to work on Mondays. We loved each others company and spoke to each other almost everyday. I was travelling a lot then, so when I was absent in some foreign country or other, we’d still keep in touch over the phone, texting or calling. And when I got back, we’d celebrate by going out and getting smashed.
I loved it.
But I also hated it. Because we were doing everything a couple would do, but we weren’t officially a couple. I tried talking to him but all I got was vague responses. It pissed me off.
I would have played my cards very differently if only I was less absorbed in my emotions of feeling wronged and took a little more responsibility for my own actions. I would have played it differently if only I had a little more self-control and didn’t always give in to my whims and need for instantaneous gratification. I would have played my cards very differently if only I had known what I stood to loose.
About 3 months into us doing this dance, I gave him my ultimatum. But everytime something happened or we met each other by chance or at a party, or he called, I’d go back on my resolution to not give in to him. I was weak. Granted, so was he. But I had more to loose than him as I wanted us to be a couple, whereas he wasn’t so sure. In fact, by being so weak, I was actually pushing him in the opposite direction of where I wanted him to go.
I didn’t see this then. I see it now.
Today, we remain friends despite having been through all this drama. Our friendship I have to admit has a lot of undercurrents and sexual tension along with it. Chemistry crackles, conversation flows and time flies when we’re in each others presence without either of us realising it. And we still make each other laugh. I feel there are some unopened doors still left between us. Whether or not we’re going to venture to open them, I really don’t know.
Pretty recently, he’d just started going on dates with someone new. He’s not one to rush into things and is generally cautious (the trait that drove me nuts) so I’m guessing, hoping rather, its not serious yet. Still the thought of him with another woman…well... kinda breaks my heart.
I’m backing off though. It’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But he deserves a chance of finding out what is it that he truly wants.