I'm laughing on in the inside

Life is funny.

It turns out that the Guy For Whom I Pine -- whose taboo status is not entirely unlike that of a certain best friend's ex-boyfriend -- has appeared to develop some feelings for me as well. At first, we thought we could just be friends. Two people can be incredibly attracted to each other, have great chemistry, and know that the feeling is mutual without resorting to jumping each other, right? Well, according to both of our confidants, "no." A drink after work, a misplaced hand, a loose tie that begs to be fixed. Each instance of seemingly casual contact is the tip of a very slippery -- and very inviting -- slope. And it would be so easy to descend down that wonderful slope into what we want but shouldn't have.

So after a very frank discussion with the Guy For Whom I Pine, we concluded that our confidants were right -- we couldn't continue to be friends without being faced with temptation. So we are going cold turkey. Nothing. No contact at all.

It's very difficult. It's like a dessert you can't have. Before you knew you couldn't have it, but you liked to look at it, smell it, listen to and watch the chef make it before your eyes. Each walk into the pastry shop and each sensory input reminded you how wonderful it would taste if you only had a smidgen. And now, not only can you not have it, but you can't even want it. You can't enter the pastry shop at all or even read the menu posted in its window. The dessert is now an idea in your head, a memory of collected sensory input, a thing that shifts and pulses inside your very wild imagination.

Last night, the Guy For Whom I Pine violated one of the rules by emailing me. It was one sentence: "this sucks." I resisted the urges to reply and call. I just sat there, feeling both exhilarated and dejected.

Another time, another place, perhaps something great could have happened. But it isn't that time or place. It's here and now. And here and now sucks.