Andy was in and out of my life again.

"But you come and go again like the tide,
while on the shoreline I stand washed of my pride,
and the truth I keep pushing aside,
is that it's time to walk away." ~Bree Sharp

Yes, it's already on my breakup album. I bet it would sell if I wanted to market it. Andy appears on Easter Sunday, ruining yet another holiday for me, and after a few weeks of stewing and having trouble breathing at the sight of him, I decided the Christian thing to do was forgive him and try to be friends.

Apparently he "didn't realize the gravity of the situation" until it seemed that I would never speak to him again. Dense. So, he apologized profusely and we talked like old times. I had forgotten that "old times" were intense, emotionally draining and unsatisfying. I him met a couple of times for a walk around Greenlake, then a walk around the loop at Seward Park at sunset and then dinner at a French restaurant. He's unbearably romantic, you see. We'll watch the sunset and talk about how God has changed our lives, and then he'll arouse nostalgia by ordering coffee with Cointreau as a nightcap, but then there's the subtle reminder that keeps me in the "friend zone", such as telling me how much he adores me (avoiding the word "love"), and then asking me to pay for half of what we ordered.

We are creatures of habit, and almost immediately I fell back into the familiar pattern of trying to be a good friend and convincing myself that the feelings would fade, and allowing myself to be drawn in so heartily that it would take two days to get over seeing him for two hours. I was done, for good this time. Andy's my lost cause, mi amor inalcanzable. I think, after five years, I'm okay with that.

10:29 AM |