By Megan WambuiIt’s Thursday afternoon, the sun outside could be mistaken for a ball of fire. It’s about 28 degrees hot. I’m barely thirty minutes since I came back from running office errands, and my mind has been telling me how I am about to fail my friend and author for not having prepared a piece for her blog tomorrow. So, I quickly open up my laptop and start typing. Don’t get me wrong, I had an idea of what I wanted to share. It stuck with me for two weeks and I was hoping to have a change of heart you know; and that of the mind but nothing else has come up yet.
Today I choose to let you in on how I feel, I want to let you in to understand how I feel and why I feel that way but most importantly, I want you to help me. Yes. Help me handle my feelings; because the thin line between friendship and lovers has been crossed and I do not know whether there is hope for us. For me and my lover to salvage it.
It all began as a sick joke. A big mistake. We had just reconnected over the week and this was our first meeting after three years of never meeting. A rainy Saturday afternoon as my friends and I were coming from the gorgeous Two Rivers mall and were excited for having shopped some fancy clothes at LC WAIKIKI. In an uber, my phone rang and I was already cursing being separated from my tea scone and borrowed yoghurt. I pause right here and sip my now bought yoghurt as I get a recollection of memories of that day. I picked up and it was him. Frank. Dear Frankie. We talk little of what I remember and soon after I was telling my pals and the uber driver that there was a change of destination.
I arrive, cold and shaking from the winds of the night. He is there, standing outside his local pub all smiling and chubby. I was happy to see him. Excitedly, I ran into him and I let him hold me in there, in his well-built muscles, laying calmly on his amazingly structured chest and I allowed myself remember how much I had missed him. He missed me too. I could tell from the look in his eyes.
Fast forward, we are in the club, all drunk and dancing, him amidst our other mutual friends were laughing uncontrollably after I showed them a video of my friend, an online comedian. Kim suggested that we leave for another club as the deejay in there was killing us. Sooner than later, I woke up to some hot breath and the feeling of a human I didn’t remember. This was the beginning of us, where our line started fading.
It felt wrong, I felt guilty, I couldn’t remember the events of the previous night but even then, somehow it felt okay. Okay because he was still there with me, because he cared. It was wrong but it felt right. I know- a total conflicted contradiction.
I have been seeing him since then and even though I won’t care to admit that at times I am sad and guilty for doing this, I can’t stop. I keep thinking I have been infected with a disease that has no cure. A good cancer. I talk for hours with him, I fight with him, spend my evenings catching up with him and even then, I can’t stop missing him. I have been cursed.
He is in a good place right now, but I keep feeling like I’m going to ruin it. He has got a good thing going on and I don’t want to break that. I also don’t want to lose him- as my friend. We have been friends for years. Six years to be precise and I don’t want to lose that over some temporary good time. I am a good person deep inside, but sometimes the devil just wants me to behave like his. I want better for me too, but I don’t know how. Now I have to deal with this thin faded line that I want to keep and have; and please don’t pick that line of me having my cake and keeping it too. I know but I’m beyond that level. I need like serious counselling, psychologist kind of advice. Ladies and gentlemen- your kind and harsh words will go a long way before we meet again.
Ps: Love and friendship exclude each other- Jean De La Bruyere.
Friendship often ends love; but love in friendship-never.