This is a post inspired by a magnificent man – Benjamin O’Connor.
When did we cross that line? When exactly did it change? We spent so many years as friends. We explored every bar and museum, every store and gallery, every coffee house and concert hall, every park and every twist of the river. We talked for hours and hours and hours, on the phone, in the car, sitting in bars and walking along the sidewalk.
You endured two years of me talking about how in love I was with Simon. I was in love with Simon, and the terrible truth is, I had no thought of you. I was besotted with Simon. All you could do is be my friend, the friend I always tried to keep at arm’s length. If it was not for how terrible I felt about calling you a !@*& ing #%~@! in front of all of your colleagues, I might not have allowed myself to become embroiled with a friendship with a guy at the same time as being swept up in the freakin’ awesome sex and foreplay Simon was bringing to my life. But I felt bad, I felt I had to put in some effort into atoning for my previous attitude towards you, and so I tried to be friendly. I had no idea you were going to become my best friend.
When did we go from platonic friendship to passionate lovers? Was there an exact moment? Had you fantasized about me? Had you? I didn’t fantasize about you, but only because I was so utterly intoxicated with Simon. I kinda knew you were sweet on me, only you were so very careful. You were so respectful of my relationship with Simon. You never tried to make a move. You did not try to tear him down although I know what you think of a man who calls himself a polygamist – I know you think he is a !@*& ing #%~@! (although it is nice that you two can be cordial with each other now, I appreciate it).
After Simon left, I kept it quiet for a while that he was not coming back…because…because…maybe because of the shame. I could not explain it. I did not understand myself how it is possible to be so in love with a man that you give him everything, you hold nothing back, every fibre in your being belongs to him…and yet…he leaves. I did not understand why he chose his beautiful house and studio over me. Only it’s not as simple as that. But I had not come to terms with it. I could not tell you or anyone for some time. I was mortified.
Then months later, came that day. That day when you told me how you felt. That was really something. I was not expecting it. I did not think I deserved you. I did not believe you had been harbouring this flame for so long. That day, that day together felt like the two of us were at a fairground – the day flew by with lights and touches and noises and kisses – it was too busy. Perhaps I needed that day to drink in what you had told me in the cold light of day. That night, that night was exciting Ben – exploring sex for the first time with a friend was exciting and confusing and fun and naughty and yet I knew it was right. It felt more right than any other decision I had made.
But when did we go from platonic friends having sex to being passionate lovers? It changed Ben. It changed and I knew this was more than just a fling with a friend. I knew, when you made love to me, when you penetrated me, when you were thrusting deeper, harder, faster, there was a spark in your eyes, a fire in your soul, roaring flames coursing through your veins – it was that unmistakable unquenchable force – PASSION.
When did you change Ben? It was a few weeks after we got together. It was after I had moved into your home. Perhaps the realization that I was now yours had sunk in. The nerves had evaporated. The hesitancy and the politeness and the caution eroded and there you were – the iconic well-hung Greek super-stud and you were enlivened, emboldened, engulfed with passion when we came together. I noticed, and I came to realize – there was never going to be another man. I was won. I was yours Ben and I always will be. I came to know that…
beyond hormones and lust,
beyond friendship and trust,
is passion that forges two souls together
to sail through life whatever the weather