The Back-hand of Love (Part I)

We spent our days chatting about many things. Kessler never failed to surprise me, always keeping me on my toes, anticipating his next reply. You see, he lived in the sunny state of Florida while I lived in the heat wave called Texas. So conversations face-to-face was only something we could talk about.

Kessler was the kind of guy that society could never truly approve of. He was a pothead, a cynic, a very depressed individual, and had a problem with feeling guilt after intimate events took place. And I, myself, was the same. After a few short weeks I grew fond of him, but could never confess those feelings that bubbled inside of my empty chest. For once in my life, I was terrified of rejection.

The site we used to talk to each other had a limit of how many messages you could send to a person within one hour and sometimes messages weren’t received. This made conversation even more difficult. So, of course, I used this as an excuse to befriend him on Facebook, one of the world’s biggest social networks. Luckily, he accepted it, and at that moment I began to wonder if he was as eager to talk to me as I was. Within a week we exchanged phone numbers and changed our way of communication once again.

One day, love became the topic of conversation, and quite frankly, I was not fond of that moment; it pained me to see him talk about a girl he was so deeply in love with almost a year before we met. As bad as this may sound, I was glad he wasn’t with her any more, although I hated myself for feeling that way about the situation. They had been together for two years, and he treated her like his queen, except for a few mindless mistakes and one drastic one of being a drug dealer. Eventually, she found out that he’d been selling drugs on her college campus and left him. But thankfully, he claimed to be over her. I was secretly jealous of her for having spent two years with the man I had feelings for, but I would not confess this to Kessler either. He seemed to hold little interest for me in a romantic manner, almost like I had been friend-zoned, and I didn’t want to mess up a good friendship.

With each conversation, I realized how much Kessler and I had in common. We were so much alike that I began to believe that it was fate, although I had never believed in such a thing. In my gut and in my bones I felt that there was a reason why my selfish thirst led me to this troubled, and yet beautiful man. At the time this was happening I foolishly believed it was simply because we were soul mates. But little did I know, life had  a different course in mind for us.