...I miss my dad.
You know who else I miss? My best friend. This is what happens when you date your best friend, kids: you break up, and you're not best friends anymore. I never believed that until it happened. I KNEW we would break up, because lets face it: he has a penis, and I'm extremely gay.
It started out innocently enough: 6 too many shots at a Christmas party on the night my Gramie passed away. One drunken (short) make-out session later, I was mentally slapping myself in the face for mixing up a perfectly perfect friendship. Two days later, He Who Shall Not Be Named professed his love for me and I felt so guilty and confused and afraid of losing him that I told him I loved him too. I actually said that. I. Love. You.
What I said wasn't a lie... I did love him. I do. However I was not IN love with him and after 4 months of fighting my gayness just for old times sake, I broke it off. We swore to remain friends; we swore we'd go back to how things were before we dated. Let me tell you this:
That is impossible.
Boundaries are blurred, skipping down the street holding hands sends mixed signals, talking about new love interests is insensitive (and not plausible for me because I came out to my friends after we broke up and nearly stopped talking).
But I'm not giving up hope. This is one of MY boys, my best
friend, the one who knows me better than anyone. We will get there. We will be friends again.
I've got a couple burned bridges to patch up. But I also know a great Thai restaurant, own all 3 High School Musical movies, have a liter of Smirnoff and a letter from my best friend saying we'll always be close in heart. Armed with all of that, there's no way I can fail.
Okay, maybe the Smirnoff is a bad idea.