Platonic Lovers

Another cheesy romance story featuring my idealistic lover "Nilly Bean"

I always get s**t on and pushed aside by potential lovers because of my relationship with Nilly. No one can look past the fact that it’s just two affectionate friends who happen to be of opposite sexes. If we were both female no one would ever bat an eye.

            Society is a fucked up thing; it rules our lives and our social habits. I’ve never much cared for societal standards, I couldn’t give less of a f**k. I had to adopt the “F**k it” mentality back in high school or my life would’ve been forfeit. Some very good things can come out of necessity.

            When I met her 8 years ago, I never thought that it would blossom into something like this. We would be together all the time but I never really noticed her until I looked inside of her. She wasn’t quite my type and at the moment all I was concerned with was getting a girlfriend or getting laid. Once I found out she harbored feelings for me, everything changed.

            Given my empathic an uninhibitive tendencies, I started to fall head over heels for her. I take what people give me and give it back tenfold. That has always been my blessing and curse. It can cause irreparable damage to my relationships with people since I begin to obsess. And that was what started happening with Nilly.

            I knew every second what was happening, but I never said a single word because I didn’t want to hurt her. She was able to withstand all the abuse and lashing out that I gave her, and that’s why I love her so much. No one else has been able to get so close to me and not only endure, but almost thrive in the presence of my manipulation and emotional abuse. She got me on the fast track to healing, and honestly, I owe my renewed life to her. However, that is a story for another day.

            I love affection. I love friendly hugs. I love kissing, cuddling, f*****g, and everything in between. I’ve never felt like I belong, an outcast. However these are normally reserved for boyfriend/girlfriend, or romantic lovers, I guess, friends with benefits, and whatever f*****g else this s****y society deems appropriate. I’ve only held a few said romantic relationships, which were the happiest times of my life in their respective periods. I’ve never been able to produce an entirety of happiness for myself; I’ve only been truly happy with someone else, and now is no exception.

            Every girlfriend I’ve had got the best that I could give. In some cases, it destroyed me. In others, they were pushed away. Some never got close to me, never gave me a chance. I wouldn’t say I’m a rather attractive human being, but I’m not repulsive, I think. Others’ judgements mean little when they “love” you. That’s why whenever someone shows me the slightest bit of affection I latch on like a parasite and feed off of it. Year after year I’ve tried to fix it, but it must be the instinct of my emotional nature.

Failure after failure I began to lose hope. There were periods of years without affection, in which I had times of utter hopelessness and depression. During my worst period of 4 years, the most affection I received was a hug. My soul was withering away from lack of love, attention, and affection. I didn’t think anything could save me except the next piece of a*s to look my way.

During those four years, I tried so f*****g hard to get a girlfriend. After two years of being emotionally dead, I opened up my heart again when I found I beautiful girl that I thought was worth it. She checked off so many boxes on my “Girlfriend Checklist™” that I just had to give it a shot. She was another damaged soul that I was naturally drawn to, for reasons I’d discover relatively shortly.

She had recently come out of an abusive relationship and was extremely cautious with every male she encountered. Subconsciously, it hurt dearly that she did not trust me. Every day when I was wanting a hug, I never received one from her. I was devastated when I saw her hug a stranger, yet I shook off this feeling. If I hadn’t been so blinded by love I would’ve seen the warning signs. So many things were telling me to stop the pursuit, to go after someone else, but I was the desperate Despereaux, I still am, and I always will be.

Which brings me to the crux of my romantic problems. Desperation, loneliness, a clingy nature, a need for affection. All problems which I attribute to the perceived emotional neglect I received from my parents while growing up, as well as the sociopath that nearly made me end my life. I never found a friend that I could trust to help me. I started to never think that I would get better. Every relationship attempt would be slightly better than the last, except they would all fail. Time after time I would be crushed. Time after time I would have to cut all emotional tied with my desired lovers. Time after time my heart would break, I’d enter a crippling depression, and nearly take my life out of shock. It seemed like an endless cycle. Until I met her.

            Once Nilly Bean told me about her feelings, the cycle began again. But I decided to do something differently. I was open, I communicated about how I was feeling. She took all of it in stride, and I was utterly amazed. Every time I would lash out, she would parry with deft agility and return my blow with love and care. It was no wonder I fell so hard. But I kept catching myself again and again. Sometimes she would be holding the net, other times she’d come rushing with Advil and bandages. She saw my darkness and dared it to come after her. So I let it.

            Being bipolar is a f*****g nightmare, really, it is. Every month and a half I cycle from depression into mania back into depression. It seemed that the older I became, the worse every depression became, which I had finally worked out years into the future. Eventually I became so attached to my dear Nilly that I became extremely jealous of her actions towards another friend that I perceived as a threat. A friend she’d known twice as long as me, no less. I eventually entered the deepest depression of my life. I don’t know how I survived, but she was standing at the top of the cliff hanging her arm out, crying and screaming my name trying to bring me back. And I finally did.

            It wasn’t long after that my final year of college started. We were finally able to see each other again and our relationship blossomed. Every time we saw each other we became slightly more affectionate, with full intentions of being platonic. There were rough patches, many erections, and a few hot and heavy cuddling sessions. But we made it through. We remained strictly friends and maintained our affection.

            What kept me going through the rest of my year was the reassurance that we would move in together after college ends and she was free from her parents. I kept telling myself every day that happy times would come. There would be no more loneliness, no more sorrow, and no more pain. The future was all I had to keep me going.

            Deep down, I always wanted more from our relationship. I would have loved to have made her my girlfriend, but I knew that that would have destroyed us. We weren’t right for each other as lovers. We had great sexual chemistry, and she was pretty, but other than that I don’t think things would have ended well. But I knew that remaining platonic would be the healthiest and happiest thing we could do as a pair. I knew that by becoming boyfriend/girlfriend, the risk of a breakup was ever present and that brought on the possibility of tearing my heart and soul away from her like I’d done many times in the past and never seeing her again, lest I break down and cry in remembrance of the happy times that I’d never get back. So we stayed friends.

            And we moved in together.

            And we loved each other.