...But at the cost of feeling awful.
I bit of a background. On matters of life and love, I've often found myself being the person that my friends come to. They come to me for inspiration, advice, the warm shoulder, and the cold sober advice to swallow the pill of reality.
Perhaps more than anything else, the thing I've been, was the risk taker. What in my limited time, I've gained in terms of understanding about risk is that it never gets easy. Bravery is never rewarded with a lesser future burden. It is hard every time.
July 23rd 2008, I wrote on my blog...
Live and dream big. Love, and wear your heart on your sleeve if you goddamn please.
Take a chance. Take every chance if you must.
Do whatever it takes to make yourself free.
Full text: http://theregoesourhero.blogspot.com/2008/07/good-die-young.html
I wrote it. It still feels right, but in the last 24 hours, I've had to face it. I've tasted risk. Today it was bitter. I didn't want to. I wanted to stay comfortable. It was too easy for me to just live without risk.
To not kiss.
To not speak.
But I did. I know her form work. We work in close quarters. Long hours. I guess I realized I liked her almost half a year ago. I found myself positioning myself in the room so that we'd interact. I'd filed her away under "off limits" for all this time, but still the attraction.
In the last few weeks, I've felt like the feelings were growing and simply doing nothing was becoming a burden. My own words haunted me. Take a chance. But it was too scary, so I didn't. I started feeling like a hypocrite. All this talk about taking chances, but how long since I had. How long since I had taken a chance?
So last night we went out with others, and slowly but surely the group kept getting smaller until it was only her (the object of my affection), her brother, and me. Near the end of the night, she and I, we kiss. We kiss, and it's great. All feelings returned. I'm not keen on PDA, but in that moment, I didn't care. It felt good. I her hands on my back and mine on her cheeks. Eyes closed. Soft lips. We're still young, still beautiful.
We break lips only to exchange smiles and witty banter. We flirt. She says "whatever, " before smiling again and wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me deep again. We walk outside where her brother won't see us. More kissing. More smiling. More "whatever's."
We walk to the Metro station. The brother wanders off to find a bathroom or something... I really don't remember, I'm just counting the seconds until I can kiss her again. While waiting for the Yellow Line, we're just two young lovers as far as the others on the platform is concerned. I decide that now is a good time to tell her her how I feel.
I tell her how I have to make excuses to keep myself from asking her out to lunch. I ask her if she is attracted to me. I ask if she flirts. She says she is; she does. And in our romantic confessional, we are interrupted by her brothers return. All those words just suspended in air with no way to find privacy.
I was happy. A great night.
I thought it was to be good. I feel asleep last night thinking about the following days. Our coming dates. The cute ways we'd at first hide our relationship from our coworkers.
I woke up today, both physically and metaphorically. Last night, just a dream. Today, I wanted to talk to her. I thought that we had left too much just suspended in the air. She said she didn't remember last night. She said that she remembered kissing, but nothing that we said. I figure I'll tell her because what's the point of me knowing and her not. In her words: "I'm sorry. I don't want anything."
I feel embarrassed.
I feel accidental.
I feel regrettable.
I feel betrayed, and being who I am, I'm occupying my mind with how upset I am for being mad at someone I like. I don't feel comfortable thinking negatively about someone I want to think positively about.
I can still feel her lips on mine when I close my eyes, and I tell her "no hard feelings." I'm already preparing for work. I'll try on the many faces I can use that won't let her feel awkward or guilty.
This is me. I take risks. I do as I write. I act as a speak. I'm not a hypocrite. But in that knowledge is embedded perhaps a scarier thought.
By putting her on a pedestal and never taking action, I was chauvinistic. I never once thought until last night that maybe her feelings should be investigated. I'd for half a year let myself prefer the idea that she might like me back. For 6 months I'd been too afraid to hear she wasn't interested.
In the place of hypocrisy, I learn that I have an anger issue. Specifically, the inability to be angry. Would it be so much for me for just have a moment where I don't feel embarrassed for feeling hurt?
No real profound way to close this. Tonight, solitude doesn't make me feel independent or brave. The loudest sound in the room is the phone not ringing. No pretty girl calling me, telling me she didn't mean what she said; that she was scared.
Tonight, I'm just a sad and lonely non-hypocrite.