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Age 5:
We were actually friends at one point if you can remember. Back when we were kids and nothing else really mattered except when mommy and daddy where coming to pick us up.
You and I were no different.
We would play together, talk together, eat together, hell, we were inseparable.
"See you tomorrow, Jonathan?" You would always call you from the back of your mother's SUV.
"Yeah, I'll see you." I'd say as mommy held my hand as we walked back to her Jeep.
I hadn't noticed it then, but every time you spoke, or laughed, or even looked at me, I'd get butterflies. I asked mommy about it, about what I should do, and she told me just to ignore the feeling and it would go away.
So I did.
And the feelings never faded.
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Age 10:
We were completely different now, you and I. No more playing superhero, no more sharing secrets, and not that much talking anymore.
The feelings were still strong.
It was that time of a boys life when he begun to notice that not all girls were completely, disgusting creatures.
Including you. I must admit, I felt a little betrayed that you were so busy hanging with those girls and getting new friends.
I was jealous.
I knew you didn't want to talk to me. You didn't because your friends didn't want you to, right?
I tried to join in your group and make them like me. I tried so hard, but failed. I just made myself a laughingstock.
And after all that you just forgot about me.
Well that's fine; two can play that game.
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Age 13:
This was the year you came out. I don't know why, but I never could believe it.
How could you, the star of the school, every girls dream, Mr. Perfect, be gay?
At the same time I was ecstatic. I have no idea why I was so happy that you had come out.
Was it because it would leave more girls for me? Or was it because. . .
No. It defiantly was not that. Those 'feelings' had gone away years ago.
I think.
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Now:
I had my first girlfriend and lost her in a matter of weeks.
And it's all because of you, I think.
Ever since we saw you and your stupid boyfriend, Tristan, at the movies I couldn't get the thought out of my head.
You were having sex with a man. And that made me angry. But not at you, at him.
For the next few days, I felt I fine. No problems at all. Until Brittany wanted me to have sex with her.
"What the fuck's the problem? I thought you wanted this?" I knew she was angry, she had every right to be since we made these plans, but I just just couldn't do it.
"I do, babe, I do. I just can't right now."
"Why the hell's that?"
I couldn't tell her it was because she didn't turn me on. No way.
"I just can't."
"Fine. Whatever, bitch. Then can you fucking drive me home?" I told her yes and she tried twice after that first night.
Twice I had said no.
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I really wish I hadn't fucking kissed you. I know I'm a fucking douche bag, I also knew you were in a relationship.
I just couldn't think of anyone else, you know?
After my fight with Brittany, I told I was going to make out with a member of the same sex and not enjoy it.
But I enjoyed it.
I enjoyed it a lot.
"Yep, I'm gay." That's all I had to say after that. I don't think you knew how relieved I was.
All those years of confused feelings made sense. I had a crush on you all those years.
Crap, I had a crush on you all those years.
But, do I still have a crush on you? I have no idea.
Maybe a little, sorta, kinda.
Yes, most defiantly.
I might even love you. I know you'll never love me back, I'm just saying.
I'm not saying anything, I'm just saying.