Your Role

Because I'm a lazy bitch, this post comes from something I wrote Jan. 18, 2004--before my boyfriend and I took the big leap into the role of a "real" couple. The following is the result of an unsent, unedited letter addressed to him:

What role will you play today? Will you be the Tricky Player, the Forever Friend, or the Concerned Other? Maybe the question should be rephrased, instead asking me who I want you to be. Caught in limbo, I find it rather difficult to know the direction we should go. There are other factors to consider, such as distance and time, when thinking this situation over. The odds in your favor are low when my mind is set in reality. It is when I’m riding on a high, feeling altogether silly because of you, that I have to beware of my own thinking abilities; never do they seem sensible in that state.

Let me break this down and expose my mentality to you, all in hopes that you’ll find understanding for my could-be madness. There have been times when I’ve felt as though you were swaying me in your direction, but for reasons benefiting only you; more so in the beginning, when we weren’t even friends really, just casual acquaintances with other motives on the brain than gaining comradeship. To say that I felt used for strictly physical pleasure would be correct though the meaning behind it should be explained. I’ve been influenced by whispers of sweet nothings and actions without real meaning; being used was once a custom I unknowingly started some time ago. It was my misunderstanding to think that you would not be any different, so I let our association flourish at its leisure. If I had known that your intentions were not to leave me by the wayside, I probably would’ve ran away from you for fear of potential relationship entanglements. Dealing with feelings of negativity, like those that come with being exploited, has always been much easier to do, while knowing how to convey my love and trust is almost foreign to me.

With a rare oddity, similarities between us popped up in every conversation. They caused smiles, laughter, encouragement, and irregularly rapid heartbeats for me. There was something about you that I couldn’t put my finger on that just made me want to explode in joy. You became one of my more interesting friends, and probably the only one who could offer me more knowledge than I could you. Though it probably never meant much to you, I was incredibly pleased to hold a conversation with someone smarter than myself—you who introduced me to Albert Camus after I spoke of my views on life and, more importantly, death—and value the suggestions and mailed surprises you give me. Luck, it seems, rolled into my corner, and I happily acknowledged that you were the present it bestowed upon me.

In the many months that have passed between then and now, it has been my complete and utter pleasure to know that I’ve gained your friendship. That, of course, contributes to my internal arguments of whether having something more significant is worth it. It is apparent that we’re no longer Just Friends, but more like a Pair without distinction of just how and to what extent we play in each other’s lives. That’s not to say I don’t know how much you care for and think about me, it’s more of a nudge indicating that I’m unsure of how you would describe our relationship, if asked.

Even if it were clear, I would still have apprehensions, as I always do. The probability that a relationship classified as something more-than-friend could be sustained between us seems pretty low, given our distance proximity and points in our life timelines. Just think about it—how long do you suppose that we could last without the ability to see one another, or touch and kiss whenever we please? It’s not as if it’s unheard of and we’ve gone this long with no real contact, I know, but for what amount of time could we keep existing like this without resentment? To be honest, the need for your fingertips on my hand is stronger than those of having a random guy satisfy my intense horniness—and we both know that’s making a serious statement. If distance weren’t an issue, our points in life would be. Right now you’re thinking about college, gaining your degree and starting a career. I, however, am focused on receiving my high school diploma, as well as hoping for acceptance into college. When I’m just beginning my university studies, you’ll be closer to preparing for retirement. Such contrasts could prove detrimental.

Of course, my fear of failure (i.e., failing you, not living up to your expectations) could be behind much of the anxiety I experience. I only doubt what could be between you and me because I doubt myself. There’s no possible way that I’m as talented or bewitching as you say I am. Really, you shouldn’t even experience a drive for me, because I don’t have anything to fuel your tank with. These things make me wonder what part of the universe decided to bring us together and for what purpose it would serve. Maybe it was simply to cause intense joy in two people’s lives.

The role you play in my life doesn’t matter, dear. What I want—what I need—simply is you.