What are we to each other?

A girl describes and tries to work out her feelings for her friend. Are they just friends, or are they something more?

What are we to each other? I know we’re friends. Of that fact I have no doubt, but are we more than that? Do our flirty texts and touchy interactions fill you with the same sense of confusion they fill me with? Or are they just an average part of your day? What do you feel, because I don’t know. I analyze everything. Every conversation and text. Every glance and touch. I go over them all and I still don’t know what we are. Do you?

The heart emoji is a constant on my most used page. So is the wink, the kissy face, the heart eyes, and the smirk. That’s all because of you. I’m a flirter and so are you, there’s no denying that. But with you it’s different. With you it goes on longer, is more intense. The compliments never end, and neither do the pet names. I call you cutie and darling, you call me babe and gorgeous. Hell, we’ve even planned our future together. When your mom was annoying you, you said we should move out together. You wanted us to live together. And it wasn’t just a passing fancy, we planned it out that night. You would cook and I would clean, since you hate the dishes so much. You would never wear pants, and I would never wear shirts (our dislike of clothes is laughable). You would become a money making nurse and I would become a teacher, and we would be happy. And when I teased you, my little working girl, about getting a job before me we joked that you would be the money maker and I would be the arm candy and stay at home mom. We fake planned raising children together. And we talked in definites. We spoke like an actual couple that was planning their future.

When you first came out to your dad and brother, we laughed when they immediately thought we were a couple. Before you came out, before you even knew you were bi, your family thought we were dating. And my mom, too, has hopped aboard the “they’re dating” train. Long after we told them we weren’t actually dating they still seem to think we are. They see the flirting thing we do. They see the vibes we give to each other and they think we’re dating. Your dad loves it. He wants us to get married and have children. My mom and dad seem to think it’s a sure thing that will eventually happen. Even our friends have told me they’ve noticed our flirting. They think we’d be cute together. But still we persist in saying we aren’t dating. But I see where they’re coming from. Sometimes we act more coupley than the actual couples. I’ve pretend called you my girlfriend before, and you very willingly go along. And though I have many “wives” you’re the only one who plays along just as much. You even suggested we pretend to be a couple just to taste wedding cake.

We’ve also kissed before. Spin the bottle was the first time I got to taste your lips, but it wasn’t the last. On new years, even though we had made a firm no kissing rule (mostly to apply to our friend), we made out. Under that loosening haze of vodka we kissed and groped and kissed some more. You even straddled me and licked your way up my stomach. Your tongue in my mouth, my hands on your a*s, we kissed the night away, far more interested in each other than the third girl that was there. So involved in each other that she had to yell at us for leaving her out. I’ve gotten farther with you in one night than your boyfriend did in the month you were dating.

And I know you find me attractive. That fateful new year’s eve you told me you once had a sex dream about me. The dream was probably before you came out, which makes it all the more meaningful that it was about me. And that same night I told you about the crush I once had on you. You seemed surprised, and asked me if I still had one. I said no, and it was the truth. I had moved past that school yard crush and became very satisfied with our ever growing friendship.

But now that answer might be changing. Our friendship is changing, becoming far more intense than ever before. There is a chemistry about us, one that anyone can see, and I no longer know what it means anymore. Are we just friends? Are we something more? Are you just as unsure as me?

You once made me promise that we wouldn’t date. It was a promise that we reaffirmed, even through our drunken lip lock. We didn’t want to destroy the friendship that we had created. And I had readily agreed to that promise, because at the time it was an easy promise to keep. I didn’t want to date you anyways, so why not agree? Well now I think differently. Isn’t a risked friendship worth the chance that there could be something more? I know it ended badly with him. I know that friendship was truly destroyed. But that was him. He was a dick who did things I would never do. And with all the flirting we already do, would a relationship change much anyways? It would only benefit us, really. It would be a true outlet for our desires. I know you want someone to have. A real physical person to kiss and love. So do I. We both lament the fact that there are no girls around for us to date, but we always ignore the idea that we could just date each other.

I hadn’t dwelled on the promise once it was made, but looking back now I see the hidden subtext. There is only one reason you make a pact with someone not date: you thought there was a chance you could date. I hadn’t thought of dating when you came out, but clearly you had. You proposed the pact to me. You suggested it to me. I doubt you ever did that with your guy friends. So did you want to date, then? Were you actually concerned that there was chance enough we could date that you thought we needed a pact just to preserve our friendship?

I just wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish I knew what you felt as we flirt shamelessly back and forth. Any answer would be good, so long as it could put to rest the endless confusion I feel about you. Because even now, I still don’t know what I truly feel for you. Do I actually want you? Do I actually want to date you? Or am I just redirecting our friendship to satiate my ever growing desire for a partner. I don’t know. Maybe you’re just as confused as I am. Or maybe you could clear the muddled up feelings I have surrounding you.

But asking you could shatter what we have. It could pull from the confusion an awkwardness that we have never felt around each other. And I never want that to happen. So for now I will live in the confusion. I will handle the mixed signals we send to each other so long as it means we won’t be thrown into that awkward place some friendships never return from. But I still wish I knew:

What are we to each other?

Author's Note

There is now a follow up called "The almost date"

Reviews

[David Jae]

Full of energy and passion, although it is a little heavy on exposition. It would have been stronger if it had been a conversation with someone, in my opinion.

Either way, it could do with spacing out some more. It is a block of text and hard going for the reader.

These are just technical refinements, however.

The soul of your story is very powerful. You should be proud of this b

[SomnambularSublunar]

I really liked this, your prose is very poetic and this makes it unique and a pleasure to read.