dear boy x,
two years ago this month, i was walking up the hill at school one night. it was freezing rain, and nearly everyone had left campus already for winter break. i was headed to the computer lab to work on a big project, and you were working on (late) finals due the next morning. you were going away for the following semester and i would be graduating, so you said, "this is probably the last time i'm going to see you." that night i dreamt that i came up behind you and kissed your ear.

of course, i toyed with going back to the lab after i left that night and giving you a kiss, or confessing my two year-long crush on you, or being reckless with all sense of practicality (playing those crush games i've done so many times in the past despite any good judgement, things like writing confessional e-mails, sending letters, tapes, stupid phone calls at late hours. . .) but i didn't. it wasn't the first time the thought crossed my mind, either: earlier that fall, i met you leaving one party headed towards home. i was headed nowhere and you looked sad. what i did after that was go home with another boy that i had just broken up with--the three of us having lived in the same house one tension-filled summer, almost crossing too-dangerous boundaries while hanging out until dawn outside on the porch--because i didn't know what else to do. what i wanted to do was ask you if i could go home with you.

so, two years passed and i had forgotten all about you until i ran into you on the street this summer. it took us three months to finally make time to hang out. i drank too much and you stood too close to me and we split a cab back and you leaned in to me in the backseat.

of course i know that i could be reckless and kiss you, and that you wouldn't mind. it's all up to me, now. it's always been up to me, and i know this. although sometimes i think i'm too old for fooling with people's emotions, that i should have grown up by now, and that we really don't have much in common. but still, there's nothing like that rush of mutual, unresolved, unspoken attraction. and i play it out like a broken record.

and when you call me up next week to go drinking after work while listening to the best jukebox in the city, what else am i going to say but yes.


Thursday, December 16, 1999


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