My Best Friend

Tom and I left his friend’s party last two in the morning. We stumbled drunk through the streets of San Francisco, commenting on the bitter air. Tom, the gentleman that he always was, offered me his coat as we trudged up hills back to the hotel room we were sharing for the evening.

We weren’t lovers. No, that was untrue. We loved music and silly songs, dance parties and clove cigarettes. We loved each other, but in the most friendly type way. Lovers didn’t share secrets the way Tom and I did. Lovers didn’t text each other in the middle of the night, saying that they were lonely and the other called them moments later with a concerned voice filled with care. We were better than lovers, I always thought.

We laughed about the night. I wrapped the houndstooth material together around my middle, thinking about the grand applause we both received at the end of the evening. I told Tom’s friend that he could play the ukulele well and in rebuttal, Tom told him that I could sing. The evening ended with our tinny rendition of “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” a song, for some reason, I held close to me.  Maybe it’s the light strumming or the simple lyrics. I always wanted to cry every time I sang it quietly to myself.

I stripped down to my undergarments and started jumping on the bed. I knew it was a childish thing to do at the age of twenty-seven, bouncing up and down on an expensive hotel mattress but I stopped caring when Tom joined in. I felt like I was five years old again. My entire body felt free and I was in the company of my best friend. It was like my birthday, Christmas and my favorite concert had rolled into this sole magical event. Our neighbors banged on the walls, jealous of our constant laughter. When we heard the final knock on our door, we stopped jumping, got ice and crawled into bed.

I asked Tom if I could lean into him and snuggle up against his warmth. He extended his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. It was the first time in weeks I’ve been touched this way and it was a touch that my body craved. I missed feeling special like this. Perhaps I was crazy, always looking for the wrong type of attention. I knew that I was incredibly needy and had issues with codependency and intimacy. But right at that moment, none of that matter. I focused on Tom’s breathing as a tear fell down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away and I hoped that Tom didn’t notice.

I felt at home. My heart burned of it. It was like listening to the strong crescendo of my favorite song. Or climbing up a steep hill just to watch the sun set. That sense of beauty and perfection. It was something that I haven’t felt in a very long time. I was missing my former home of skyscrapers and brownstones. I was lonely and always so tired. Those feelings were gone now. I felt alive. Just as alive as Tom’s heaving chest. I threw a silent prayer to the ceiling, thanking God for the memories of tonight and my friend who unconditionally gave me love and strength to go on. I kissed Tom on the cheek and drifted off to sleep.

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I now sit here, 3000 miles away listening to Bob Dylan covers, thinking about the last night we spoke. I still can’t believe that you answered your phone and that I got to hear your voice one last time. I didn’t think that would happen. Sometimes I like to imagine that when I move back to the city for graduate school next summer, we’ll run into each other in the streets on Brooklyn. I will be a little bit thinner with longer hair and wearing a new pair of glasses. You would be wearing those black flip flops and your teeth would still be crooked. I’d double take and give a three-second silent prayer for the courage to talk to you and hope that you didn’t hate me for a reason I knew nothing about. We’d exchange hugs and kisses on the cheek and ask each other how about our lives. You’d be surprised that I found my way back into New York before I apologize for acting crazy and losing touch. We would want to kiss each other like we once passionately did- you push me up against the wall and graze your fingertips against the softness of my cheek. I’d stare into your kaleidoscope eyes and tell you every good feeling about that I had bottled up inside me since the day I left you.

But I know that will never happen. I’m building my life here without your presence now.

Men and Fairytales

“You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here’s a hint – ask yourself who wrote them. I assure you, it wasn’t just the women. It’s the great male fantasy – all it takes is one dance to know that she’s the one. All it takes is the sound of her song from the tower or a look at her sleeping face. And right away you know – this is the girl in your head, sleeping or dancing or singing in front of you. Yes, girls want their princes, but boys want their princesses just as much. And they don’t want a very long courtship. They want to know immediately. ”          
– David Levithan and Rachel Cohn

Last night, I wondered “Why are there no fairy tales with the prince being rescued?” Today, I found the answer.

Something You Should Know

I’m really sorry for the text message I sent you last night. I was at the bar with some friends, getting drunk and of course, thinking about you. I’m utterly embarrassed for doing that- texting you, not about thinking about you and I do apologize; not only for that but the previous ones I sent you. I’ve been really foolish, especially over these last few months, and I hope that you just think that I’m a crazy person who won’t leave you alone.

I really don’t know why I’m writing this. To apologize again. To reach out. Maybe it’s just me trying to finally move on (I do hope you’re seeing someone wonderful and delete my text messages right upon arrival). I meet men who have your attributes (those lips and eyes) or do other little things (like talking about Hemingway and Stein with my roommates) and I simply think about you. All our fun times and talks. Perhaps I’m just living in the past, still. I know that we ended a long time ago but I did wish- and still do- the absolute best for you.

I deleted your phone number from my cell so you will receive no more mental texts or calls from me (this goes for emails as well). I’m sure you’re busy with your friends and school since it’s starting back up again soon. I do sincerely hope that you’re happy and loving life.

Best wishes.