Crossed Lines

You made it. (Definitely no fire-works.)

Now I have a heart to break, feelings to hurt, awkwardness to spill.

Thank you.

F-Man

You popped over late again tonight. Only the second time since we first met in January have you visited this late and both times have been within days of each other and not to mention how oddly it is that it's been since my break away from Mom.

Coincidental?

I had spent a good amount of time wondering if I had feelings for you. Until I realized if I had to wonder about it then I must not and I don't, well, no more than friendship. I do enjoy your company. The silence we so often share is refreshingly non-awkward. However, I do feel uncomfortable with the thoughts that maybe with these later night visits accompany the hope for something more?

Here I am, now alone in this house save for two strapping young boys for dogs, you being a man with hormones just like everyone else including myself. You mentioned tonight of a Saturday, you supplying the beer to possibly drink more than your driving limit allows? Spend the night... on the sofa I hope you realize 'cause I really don't want any thing more than that. I've made mistakes in my life regarding sex and the years continue to pile up as I wait to do it right. I'm not about to throw it away to satisfy our hormonal urges.

I'm doing my best not to lead you on or out the door. I really don't want to harm the friendship but I fear the moment you make your move will cause an extreme amount of uneasiness for the both of us.

Please don't make it.

Mom (Me, I'm Not - Yet)

With you gone I'm free to be as melodramatic as I wish. I can stare out the window *pretending* to be immersed in my many deep and philosophical thoughts just like they do in the movies. (Who really does that any way?) I can pick fresh flowers to display as a center piece for the dining table (for all the many guests I plan to entertain). I can tie on my apron and bake batches of chocolate chip cookies for all the neighbourhood children (and dance around the kitchen humming old show tunes in the process). I can dim the lights, set the many candles ablaze and enjoy a glass of wine in my jammies (and share the experience with no one other than myself).

With you gone I'm free to explore (perhaps not all of the above). Discover who I really am without the influence of another. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for all you have given - of yourself, your time, your patience, your love, your life... This is a gift we both can enjoy.

Solitude.