My new young friend is just a friend. Two visits from him today, and tonight I was his mother. I made him lemon and ginger tea, felt his glands, made him comfortable. I gave him my company. We make good company, despite the stretch of years between us.
My new young friend is beautiful, but he is just a friend. Tonight I mentioned my confusion. "I would have jumped you by now" he said, if anything sexual was going to happen. I try not to take this as rejection, because it's not. To do so would be to put a higher value on my sex than my friendship, which is stupid. But is easy to do when one feels uncertain about the former.
If we had sex then things would turn bad, he said. And I knew this. I know this. I've said this to other people. But that didn't seem to remove its potential and my fantasising about it. Now I wish I was more adamant, more certain, more able to read and manage the situation.
But the signals were confusing. As Rod pointed out, his friends don't read Jane Eyre to him while he lies on their bed. How could that not feel romantic? So maybe I can't be too hard on myself.
My new young friend said he'll call tomorrow afternoon. We hug goodbye, once again, at the top of the stairs.
And I'm left humming this song:
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