Not looking for sympathy here, what I did is what I did. I should have just been there for her as a friend, shouldn’t have given into her subtle advances, taking it to the next stage I knew I’d surely regret. I should have recognized her vulnerability and kept respectable distance with compassion, but I didn’t..
I allowed the night to progress, one beer, 2 beer, 3 beer, talking closer and closer at the arcade bar, her warming up to my unfurling pinball skills, as laughable as that may seem, close contact is close contact.
Suddenly the air is charged. The familiarity of our past, the chemistry between us re-igniting, and the comfort in that place when everything else around is unsure, unstable, falling apart. Thoughts of consequences abandon for that eagerness to belong for an evening.
But I know she’s not the one, I knew before when the same thing happened and derailed everything with the one I do feel is the one.
We finish the chicken tenders and our last beer and she comes over. It’s already decided, there’s no turning back now, and for some reason I think nothing of it, not till the next morning.
When I look over and realize again, as always, she’s not the one. The one I do love, already at work, me always unsure where we are, but know if she knew I was even in contact with the other that there’d be no chance again, and worse than that, severe hurt.
This doesn’t come back into focus till later in the day, till I sheepishly say I can’t be in a relationship, for I still have feelings for her, I still love her, however doubt we’ll ever be together again, I’m still stuck on her.
This breaks my friend’s heart, and I feel terrible causing that hurt, and I drop her off and it’s a sad goodbye.
A goodbye that could have been good had it been the night before, but now damaged, irrevocably so..
And while feeling bad about that, who calls but the one I do love, suggesting she’d like to come over.
Cruel fate I dealt to myself, no way could I oblige, invite her over to the same room, entwine on the same bed the other had departed only hours before. The guilt and shame of it all tearing me apart, all of it my fault, knowing if I were to mention any of it, how forever things between us would be broken.
It’s not cheating, we’re not together, but it’d still break her heart, and so I decline, as much as that hurts, cause all I want is to be back with her again, the one I love, but I fucked it all up.
I routinely fuck it all up, didn’t used to.
I used to have it all together, steadfast and certain of what’s right, denying advances from other girls even when we were in a fuzzy noncommittal zone.
I long for those days, for the relative simplicity of it, just her and I together.
Life has just become such a mess, and in that mess, clinging to whatever suitable offer may present itself for the intimacy of an evening, however falling so short and hollow from the one who really matters.
I just keep thinking there’s no longer a chance for us, and then suddenly there is, only too late. Doomed to be honest and tell her who I’ve been with while we were apart, doomed to guilt and shame for not.
But I did this to myself.
why couldn’t you just say goodbye at the bar?