I developed a crush 15 years ago on my brother's best friend and it never
went away. I'm married with kids and a career now and sometimes see
this guy, we will refer to as Andrew. When I see him my face blushes and
my heart races. I can barely look at him. We exchange a fleeting hug
which poisons my soul. I think about him for weeks sometimes months
intermittently whileads falling asleep, checking the mail, writing, anytime I see or talk to my brother.
The complicated thing is I do love my husband he just never excites
me like that, he is a calming presence that adores me. I almost don't
trust the level of feelings I have for Andrew and if I had gotten with him
, I would not have my kids that I love so much or my successful business
that is important to me.
I always thought it would go away but it never has. And I have
never felt so drawn to another person. I think he knows but maybe not, I
have never told him. I wrote a successful poem about him that was
published a few times and won two contests in college but never told
anyone. I almost told him once. I was drunk and my father had recently
died. They were close. I was drunk. I bummed a cigarette. It was cold and
I didn't have a coat. I think he was afraid to warm me but tried to give
me his coat. I wouldn't take it but took a cigarette. I was going to tell
him then my husband came out with my coat and there was a terrible
awkward silence. I did not see him again for a year and by then I was
pregnant with my first child. He didn't look or talk to me.
I don't think our story is over but it has been years. He is single. I
have no illusions he is waiting on me but I thought a few times that
someday my marriage would inevitably crumble and then, who knows?
My husband knows, I am sure because he has known me this whole time,
since I was a child and I think he believes we will be together forever. I
wish I could completely love him, that would be so easy. Sometimes, I
feel like my soul is dying because I love he and my kids more than myself
and that is why I stay, I make breakfast, go to pta meetings and fill
journals upon journals with my rambling short stories that in their core,
reveal my secrets, who I am and who I pretend to be. On the surface, I
look like a librarian, good samirtan. But inside, I love music, punk, hip
hop, elc, you name it. I want to travel and do drugs and paint for years.
Instead, I make sandwiches and Lego towers. It is a strangely
dissatisfying existence at times but I do love myself, for the first time.
If I loved myself fifteen years ago, I would have hugged Andrew so tight, kissed his face and never let go.
I suppose these secrets give me the illusion that I am interesting.
I wish I had friends to tell this to. Thanks for reading, whoever you are.
It feels so good to just let it out into the world.