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She was always the girl friend. Never the girlfriend. Not because she wasn’t pretty enough or sweet enough or attractive enough physically, mentally or emotionally in any way. She was pretty in a simple, natural way that dictated her kind personality and emotional nature. It was just that she consistently found herself to be in a pattern of falling for friends. Friends she’d known for awhile. Friends who had been attracted to her initially but she’d always return the gesture too late. When these friends started talking to her about other girls because she’d never given them enough hope that they could be with her, that’s when she’d realize she wanted to be the girlfriend. But they’d move on and she’d become the girl friend. She pretended that was okay, it wouldn’t have worked out if she’d actually been with any of them anyway. Her friends. She enjoyed her boy friends for all they were to her. That’s what she told herself. And, after a somewhat lengthy denial process with a bit of extensive self-reflection, she could usually convince any feelings other than friendship into oblivion. Or, if not oblivion, at least push them far enough out of her mind that she could lie to herself, and most everyone else, that she was alright with her boy friend becoming interested in and eventually being with someone who was not her.
But those silly ideas in her head, those feelings that had been pushed down layer by layer into hiding-they always snuck up on her. A lot at first, then gradually less as she moved onto some new infatuation. But infatuations were never as filling as her friends. They were exciting, they were mysterious, they were beautiful boys with dreamy eyes and sly smiles-but they were never her friends first, which lead them to never being her friends later. And that’s when those silly thoughts and feelings and ideas of fate and love would creep up again. Telling her to stop ignoring what her heart somehow innately seemed to know-that sooner or later one of these boy friends would cease to have a space between the word boy and friend. That the first time she fell in love would be with one of them. That the one she was destined to be with was right in front of her, a much-loved companion denying the same silly thoughts and feelings and ideas with a shake of his head and a laugh at how absurd thinking about her like that was. The same denial of “we’re just friends” slipping from his lips, even though the same subconscious part of him knew it was a lie.
But those silly ideas in her head, those feelings that had been pushed down layer by layer into hiding-they always snuck up on her. A lot at first, then gradually less as she moved onto some new infatuation. But infatuations were never as filling as her friends. They were exciting, they were mysterious, they were beautiful boys with dreamy eyes and sly smiles-but they were never her friends first, which lead them to never being her friends later. And that’s when those silly thoughts and feelings and ideas of fate and love would creep up again. Telling her to stop ignoring what her heart somehow innately seemed to know-that sooner or later one of these boy friends would cease to have a space between the word boy and friend. That the first time she fell in love would be with one of them. That the one she was destined to be with was right in front of her, a much-loved companion denying the same silly thoughts and feelings and ideas with a shake of his head and a laugh at how absurd thinking about her like that was. The same denial of “we’re just friends” slipping from his lips, even though the same subconscious part of him knew it was a lie.