Today I’m remembering Charlie.
Because in my sleepy state I conjured up dream fantasies of him being around, him having conversations with his mom, something about him reading all our Facebook posts on his wall… But then I remembered he’s not around to read them.
And now I’m remembering freshman year, when I fell desperately in like (not love, like) with the boy, while loving him in every way a friend can. I remember all the guilt and shame and the only real feelings of jealousy I ever painfully felt. I remember the emotional turmoil of those months and how grateful I was that after all that, we became better friends than ever.
A year later we would say “no hetero” to each other and actually mean it. I could watch him change his clothing and not feel an ounce of attraction. He’d give me massages by sitting on my back and his mom would walk in and her only reaction would be, “Why don’t you give me nice massages like that?” I remember lying in his bed, just talking. I remember him cooking for me. I remember going on long walks where my hand would be around his shoulder. But we had grown so comfortable with each other, so inseparable, so mutually loving that freshman year was only flickers in my memory. Even now, I can’t really remember liking him because my feelings grew way past that, past a freshman girl crush, past petty feelings of envy for the girls he liked, past all those ridiculous high school things (even though they affected me strongly and I remember freshman year being a very dark time for our friendship).
It’s odd remembering how much I liked him. But it’s not odd remembering how much I love him. That part is perfectly natural.