By Angela Sheridan Pully Date: 9 December 1997
We agreed to this false barricade which stands between us, but it's an invisible wall and very, very thin. It does not prevent us from seeing each other, and fragrances permeate this membrane readily. We stand so close, not touching, teasing each other.
How long can this sit-com sexual tension prevail? You say your will is strong. Well good, because mine is weak in this regard. I think of you, talk to you, see you, stand near you, sit beside you, and my body quakes. It's an unmistakable pull, my friend.
Time and again, I look into your eyes. You're getting better at holding my gaze, which I know unsettles. I watch you smile, that dimple in your cheek floors me every time. I want to reach up and touch your hair. Most of all, I want to kiss you.
Still, we do our dance. We talked it out, and have built the wall, but around it we dance. Innuendos and wise-cracks continually test its resiliency. Fortunately, like an osmotic filter, it allows some things to pass between us. Hugs, for instance.
Some day, you say we will have gotten past this, gotten beyond the attraction, and will be platonic friends for sure. What you mean, I suppose, is that I'll get over the wanting of you. You, being strong and steadfast, have no wantings? Yeah, sure.
Perhaps you're right. Or someday, we will be overcome with repressed desire when the curtain is torn through some calamity. We'll explode in passion and tear from each other our inhibitions and prohibitions and make out like rabbits. Then what?
We either will simply move into another dimension of our relationship, continuing to be friends, or we won't. If not, we have choices: on the one hand, something real, strong and permanent. On the other hand, the ending. Either way, it will have been worth it.