Friends and lovers.

There is a thin line between friends and lovers. “Friends” is a term used loosely. You say you are “friends” because you aren’t lovers yet. Maybe you’ve messed around once or twice (okay just three times, I swear) but you are clearly not a couple. Other times, “friends” is said to establish the fact that you and him will never be lovers. He hits on you at work and you say “Listen, I thought we were just friends.” And then there’s me: where you are completely and utterly confused by the terms altogether.

Mike and I had started as friends, which grew into a relationship, and now we are no longer together. I don’t know what quite triggered the break up, but something did. Lying in bed with him with my leg sprawled across his body I had suddenly felt like I was hugging my best friend at a Friday night sleepover. It felt completely platonic and I freaked. So then I did what any logical, coherent, and reasonable person would do; I slept with him. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly the smartest action, but I did it to prove my feelings wrong. Mechanically, the sex was great. It even rated a tad higher than the vibrator. Emotionally, I was as distant as the stars beyond Pluto. Here I had this perfect man who had treated me well but the attraction had somehow died. I’ve become one of those drama queens who have everything and yet is never satisfied. Fuck.

The answer was clear. I knew I had to let him go. While transitioning from friends to lovers is a wonderful thing, reverting from lovers to friends is never an easy task. I am bad with confrontations and avoid it at all cost (proved by my blurting of Aussie man in a previous column). I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and what if this was just a mood swing. Was I just in a rut that I could dig myself out of? If I could let this feeling pass, then I’d never have to bring it up and everything would be normal again. My problem would go away.

Unfortunately for me, I’m horrible at hiding my feelings. Despite my attempts to ignore the situation, Mike noticed relatively quickly a change in my attitude. I stopped calling as often, I found myself wanting to spend more time with my friends, and I was irritable. Finally, I was getting ready for bed late one night when he called and forced me to talk. With the mounting pressure, I caved in. It felt like it suddenly clicked; I told him I wasn’t in love.

I realized I wouldn’t want that friendship that initially attracted us to die. At the same time, I wouldn’t want to drag a relationship that I didn’t feel was right to the next level. The boundary between friends and lovers was crossed and there is no way to change it.

Right now, the unexpected break up has made what use to be “boyfriend time” to “free time,” which translates to “loser” time. This includes me ordering chicken with garlic sauce for one person. It’ll take a few weeks to return to my “single” routine (consisting of laundry Sundays, girl’s night out Saturdays, margarita Wednesdays, and movie Fridays) but hopefully not too long. And as far as my love life goes, the closest action I’ll be getting anytime soon will be from my next visit to the Gyno.