about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Friday, November 21, 2003

Denise got to read my latest post, and we got to talk about it on the way home from Ercx's.

I was actually prepared for the response I got. I don't know how I was. It's probably just because I'm a little more mature about these matters and I've experienced what being in a relationship is like. (I never actually thought I would call myself anywhere near "mature.")

I am honored, though. Being one of her closest friends isn't something to be scoffed at, and she was afraid of losing me had we taken the step I mulled over. Somewhere in my heart I know I should feel depressed about what essentially is a rejection from her, but I don't mind not being so if it meant having her with me. I suppose the best way to sum this all up is that love doesn't seek return, and I still do love her so.

We held hands in the van. I know this sort of thing's reserved for those in a relationship, but we held hands quite naturally and she never pulled away. She mulled over my mentioning the "My Best Friend's Wedding" scenario: if we weren't involved with anyone by a certain age, we'd marry each other.

"Are you serious about it?" She asked me.

I guess I was. Barring any other circumstances, I was. No one can say what time has in store for us, though.

We promised to be friends for the longest possible time, and that no alienation would happen in between us---tomorrow or whenever. To me anyway, it doesn't feel like that'll happen with us, seeing how we've settled into each other's lives.

I managed to sneak in an "I love you" before she alighted.
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When I got home I plopped into bed and slept right away. I didn't bother with my usual nightly rituals. I simply slept carrying all these emotions with me.

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