a man and a woman

and i could never take the chance
of losing love to find romance
in the mysterious distance between a man and a woman

love and faith and sex and fear
and all the things that keep us here
in the mysterious distance between a man and a woman

ivan and i have been friends for almost ten years. we met in undergrad and built an intellectually intimate, emotionally dependable, mutually affectionate, strictly platonic relationship. he cares for me more intuitively and naturally than almost anyone. he makes me insane with his stubbornness and his intent on 'fixing' and 'advising' me on every blessed thing. he laughs at my feeble attempts at intelligent debate with him about authors i have never read and research i have never evaluated.

we do not, in fact, know very much about each other's daily lives. we only rarely talk about work or other friends. he never shares about the myriad women he dates or his recreational drug use, even when i ask him. (he has, over the years, tapered both of these off he assures me).

instead of friendly personal chats or sharing, we've laid the bricks of our relationship by talking about Love, Relationships, the nature of Trust, Healing, God, Jung, Dreams, Passion, Myth. In some ways, not very dissimilar from my friendship with The Boy, but altogether simpler, more respectful, and in my opinion much healthier. ivan and i have these convos from opposite sides of the dinner table rather than from the soft span of a bed. we don't flirt or tease each other. we hug when we see each other and when we take leave. and that is that.

usually.

last night he came over and i made dinner and we opened some wine. we cooked and ate and discussed the virtues of various eating habits and ingredients. we talked about books and theories of metabolism. and somewhere, somehow tiny fissures in our decade-long resolve appeared unexpectedly. for one thing, when you don't talk much about personal details with someone, you are always learning something unexpected when they do drop in a morsel here or there. "you dated a dominatrix? really? what was that about?" or "ummmm... how is it possible that i did not know that you have a substance abuse problem with lacy underwear?" (and for the record, that is ME with the underwear hording issue)....

and soon we were on the sunroom love seat drinking and eating dark chocolate and....touching. i don't know who moved first or how exactly the militantly respected 3-4 inch dividing line of shared furniture was first breached. but somehow, there were were, with his hands in my hair and hot breath on my neck. not kissing. just breathing in and out against each others skin. murmurs about how cozy we were all of a sudden. how warm and comfortable. a shift, and i was nestled into the crook of his arm with our hands entwined under the blanket. and we were quiet. we are never, ever quiet. that was the most unnerving part. this quick flash of panic: if we are not talking, then what are we doing together? what are we doing? what the hell is going on?

and that's all that happened. we just sat their, mostly quietly, holding hands and breathing. kind of zen, and i even let my terror recoil long enough to enjoy it cautiously.

he stood up to leave and told me that he didn't want to go. i didn't say anything. i didn't know what i wanted, but i knew from experience that he should probably get his shoes on and get out the door immediately before i had a decision to make. i was standing near the door and i just shrugged and said i was too drunk to drive him.

he decided on the bus. he wrapped me up in his big coat with him and said 'you confuse me, my dear. i'm a very confused little boy'. i didn't say anything, i just looked up at him and grinned and he sighed and put on his shoes and opened the door to leave.

but not before turning around and asking whether he could see me in some of these infamous undies sometime....

'rain check. if you're nice'.

the whole night was one long dream, and i am a bit hung over this morning.