07.17.2001 - 5:32 p.m.

There are some lines that must be crossed.

By the time you see them, you have already lifted your foot and shifted your balance up and forward, and it's too hard to wrench it back.

I don't want to believe that. I keep thinking, "should I have kissed him? Why did I kiss him? What does it /mean/ that I kissed him?" but I never get anywhere by wondering. I just think in big loopy circles until I get, um, distracted. which bothers me because I ought to be able to follow a train of thought, hormones or no.

I have wonderful self-control. In high school I maintained a two-year crush on one of my good friends, and according to the best sources, he never knew. I've had all sorts of crushes on taken guys, and never once let it out due to the "no poaching" clause in my moral constitution. It's never even been hard.

But twice now in the last six months my willpower has failed me.

The first time was an old acquaintance from high school. Three years younger than me, with a sexy sense of humor and a habit of wiggling his eyebrows.

I suppose it was inevitable. We went on a road trip, to watch his brother's wedding. We danced. We shared a hotel room, and we kept each other awake driving through night snow in Ohio.

We IMed when we went back to our respective schools, and maybe that was why it happened. We were both back early, and lonely. We missed the road trip. And at some point I figured out that he wasn't just flirting as a (very attractive!) friend. He liked me. So I confessed, too. And then we had a long, drawn-out conversation about what we ought to do about it.

I visited him for one rainy, cold, and beautiful weekend. But there wasn't much to it, really. We wobbled back and forth for a month or two, and then it was over. I wrote a goodbye poem, which I'll share some other time.

The second time was a few weeks ago. He was another one of those friends who I'd always liked but who was always taken. There are complications this time, too. I may or may not have broken my poaching rule.

But it was late one night and we were sort of sprawled on each other anyway, and someone said something and

I saw the line.

I thought for a bit, about a breakup and whether the scars were okay and said, "I don't think I want to make this decision right now."

"It shouldn't have to be a goddamn decision." I don't think he actually said the "goddamn" but it's good shorthand for the expression on his face and the way his stomach suddenly tightened under my hand.

And he was right, it wasn't a goddamn decision. I tried to make it one, but bottom line, the situation was there, and I kissed him because I had always wanted to.

I wanted a decision, a chance to weigh and measure, because I've never been able to view dating, or any other romantic activity, very lightly.

This time, I know better than to try not to hurt him, so it scares me that I might. It scares me to know that if I need to, I will.

I know better than to adopt his life as my own. I could, and it would make both of us terribly happy for a short time (there'd be no arguing, you see. Never a single disagreement) but then we'd become confused over our cooling passion (narcissism has a limited shelf-life) then resentful, then desperately unhappy.

I refuse to be unhappy.

I refuse to cause him unhappiness, although I know when the time comes, I'll have little or no control over whether I do or don't. It'll just happen. It always does.

There's a Billy Joel song:

"In every heart, there is a room

a sanctuary safe and strong,

to heal the wounds of lovers past

until a new one comes along.

I spoke to you in cautious tones

you answered me with no pretense

and still I fear I said too much

my silence is my self defense.

And every time I smell a rose

It seems I only felt the thorns

and so it goes and so it goes

and so will you soon I suppose.

But if my silence made you leave

then that would be my worst mistake

so I will share this room with you

and you can have this heart to break.

It says a lot of what I've been thinking.

So should I have kissed him?

final verdict: It wasn't a matter of "should," but if you insist on making it one, then yes.

Why did I kiss him?

final verdict: Because he's absolutely, unbelievably kissable...

And most importantly, what does it /mean/ that I kissed him?

final verdict: It means... that I am healing. that I am happy. And that someday there will be another line to cross when it ends. That's what it means to me. To him there is another set of meanings, known and unknown, wished for and against. Perhaps, really, there is no meaning.

In some ways I did have a decision to make that night. I could have chosen not to. He could have chosen not to let me. But while friendships occasionnally outlast romance, I have yet to see one survive a "What if."

Some lines must be crossed. Just to see what's on the other side.

-stonebridge

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