You held my hands…

I have been unable to write after this concert with you.

You love the sound of guitar so I chose this concert for you. It was in the Catedral of our city. Saturday night.

You held my hands during the whole concert. When this piece of Piazzolla was played, my hands were in yours. The music of Piazzolla is one of my favorites. I have always loved tango music. It makes me feel melancholic. Sometimes even sad. I have never wished to listen to Piazzolla and my favorite piece “Milonga del Angel” with you by my side. I wanted to post on my blog right after the concert to describe how I felt. Then I could not so I just kept it to myself.

I wish everyone in this world could have the same moment. The Catedral was magical that evening. You touched my hands right after the first piece. And you did not let them go. During the break, you kissed me lightly on my right cheek, then on my hair and my forehead. I posed my head on your left shoulder. You kissed my hands. The two hands. Indifferently, left then right.

You kept my hands after the break. Now they played Bach. The same magic. Or even more. You moved closer to me. Even.

You held my hands that night, the whole night. You did not let me go. We could sleep in a single bed and still had enough space.

I fell asleep in your arms. My hands in yours. I could still hear Piazzolla and Bach. And also your breathe.

Waiting at the gym

The bus 31 took me to his gym. I have never taken the bus 31 to go to this side of the city. Eleven stops from the station. He was waiting for me at 9pm. I arrived in front of the gym at 8.10pm. There was nothing around this area except one small Migrolino – the equivalent of a 7 Eleven in the US. There were only buildings for offices with no light inside. And above the main street where his gym is located you can see a bridge illuminated in the night. I have never been to this part of the city. I was way too early so I went to buy a small coffee at the Migrolino shop. I bought a take-away Starbucks coffee whose taste was disgusting. I crossed the street and found myself in front of the gym. No one in front. No one inside of the hall. I saw the name of the gym on the first door on the left. 8.20 pm. I entered the gym and said to a man sitting at the reception desk: I am a friend of S. He answered: Oh yes please come in, he is just there.

I took off my shoes and entered the room, sitting on a sofa, facing the training area. Here he was. On the floor with a sparring partner. He waved at me and smiled and got back to a jiujit-su position. I have not seen him for three months. And most importantly, I have not written about him for more than a year. Suddenly I felt a big wave of confused feelings all over me. I was happy to see him again. After all, he is my dear friend. I was scared to feel something more than a friendship again. And what I was afraid to face was very real at the moment I saw him on the mat. I was not indifferent. Something did happen inside of me. But I tried to avoid to put a name on it.

Here he was. The man with the eyes which carry the whole humanity like I have always thought. I could see those eyes from far. I opened a book on the table and browsed it slowly. I tried to avoid to look at him train. I have never seen him train. For all those years I had no occasion to come and see him train at the gym although he had asked me more than once.

Three months ago we had dinner at my place. With his parents. When the parents left, he told them he would stay and help me clean the kitchen. We washed the dishes together. When we finished he grabbed me and kissed me. The kiss lasted forever. I kissed him back. My kiss lasted more than forever. We were friends. We had stopping being lovers for a while already. Then the kiss in the kitchen. A kiss which is not sexual. He did not stay. Though he could. I could invite him to stay though. The kiss was the one of regrets, of affection or love, the kind of love which carries the universe, which gives you the world. His kiss was that kind of kiss. And that kind of friendship.

I was still sitting on the sofa, watching him train, remembering his kiss in my kitchen. 8.46 pm. In less than ten minutes he would finish the training and would come towards me and his hand would touch my neck as a sign of greeting me.

And this is the way our friendship goes now after having been everything together. I would say hi to him and catch furtively one of his fingers.

A guardian angel in an unsolved enigma

Did I tell you I have an guardian angel watching over me? I think I did earlier in this blog.

Something weird happened two days ago. I went home and immediately realized that someone was in my apartment during the day. First all the doors to the rooms were closed. I never closed the doors. I found it strange but was not more intrigued than that. But when I went to the bathroom I saw the shampoos were not at the usual place. They were indeed moved to a very weird place. Yes, it was very strange and a bit scary. I called the owner living downstairs, thinking he might have got in the apartment to fix or repair something. He said no because he did not have my keys. I tried to think. Nobody has my keys except my guardian angel. My dearest friend in this town. I asked him and he said no, he did not drop by either. So the enigma stayed unsolved. Who could get in the apartment? I could not think of anyone else. I live in a safe place and a safe country so I don’t take this incident too seriously. Still it was weird.

But mostly, I think I was not afraid because I have a guardian angel living nearby. I haven’t seen him a lot lately. My sweet friend of twenty-years old. I have always known that having one like him is just enough for one life.

Yesterday we exchanged texts more than usual because he was worrying more than usual.

– “Are you sure that no one else has the keys?”

– “Just you and me”

– “Hum…”

Then late in the evening, I was watching a movie and he called again:

– “Are you sure you are alright?”

– “Yes, I am. It was weird. And I am sure somebody was there. But no idea who and how.”

– “Hey, a question, if something happens or if you have an emergency, whom would you call here?”

– “You, of course. I will call you right away.”

-” Yes, of course, I am your guardian angel.”

Simple answer. Simple communication. Precious friendship. Unique protection.

Yes, a stranger or someone had been in my apartment.

But not a lot of people I know have a real guardian angel. He told me he has very long hair now. Sure it fits him good. Blond long and wavy hair, this is my angel.

I slept like a baby in sweet dreams yesterday night.

Now we are four when we are together

Where is the line between love and friendship for two people of opposite sexe?

A very thin line. Or none I think.

Love and friendship have many facets with multiple shades and colors. Feelings in-betweens interweaved. Difficult to draw a sharp line and distinguish which is which sometimes. Love for a lover is strong, love for a friend could also be. Maybe it’s the expectation which makes the difference. We expect less from a friend to love us back with the same ardor. Maybe.

I am writing about this because I truly don’t know if I am not a little bit in love with my dearest friend. It’s a kind of feeling so close to love which makes me think that it should be love somehow. Even more than love. There is an immense affection and tenderness when I think of him. But the difference is I never try to oppress these feelings. I am proud to feel them. And I have never felt frustrated. While with a lover, I am more scared, I withhold the love feeling, I try to escape. Things are less spontaneous, more calculated. I hate being overwhelmed by my love. But with a close friend, when you really love him, the sentiment seems to set you free. A friend is more indulgent to your affection, I think and it eases things. And maybe and I said “maybe”, you don’t miss a friend as much as a lover/boyfriend. You don’t long for your closest friend. You are not obsessed about him.

Last week was a difficult week. Getting up was an effort. Then I realized that I just needed some doses of him to feel better. His presence, his witty spirit and friendship should be a remedy for my sadness. He is officially my only joy at this moment and the only one who could boost me up. So yesterday morning I asked him to see me.

He came by the same evening. He did not ring but used the spare keys I had given him.  I already liked this feeling. He opened the door, said hi. I was in the living room, reading a newspaper. Nice opening scene.

As usual he started to play piano. Extracts of the piano concerto no. 20 of Mozart. He sang, imitating an opera singer and looked at me while playing. I was a bit speechless. I have seen him playing piano and singing a lot of times at my place, still each time when it happens, I am always a bit dizzy with happiness. He plays not only well, he plays with his soul even if it was just for a few minutes. My heart was musical and my heartbeat tried not to skip any notes. This moment was already the very beginning of what I define as love. I could be wrong. But I worship this wonderful feeling. Right there friendship and love are mixed, together with the piano sound.

He said that he did not appreciate HIS character in my blog. Because the guy in my imagination is much better and nicer than him. This “romanticized” character is so idealized that he is afraid to not being able to measure up to his idyllic image, the one I deliberately invented. He said he did not want to disappoint me, and the way I embellished him showed him that definitely I was not enough satisfied with him in real life (damn cute!). And that it can be annoying a so perfect character. He said that it would not help me either having made up this kind of hero because I would have a hard time to find a real man in life. “HE” in the blog would not pop out of it to be with me for real (cute again! who cares anyway, in real life, I have him…).

I let him talk. I think he is much better than his fictional clone because he is REAL. I know that I did not beautify or aggrandize him. He is just like that. Brainy, scintillating. But I did not want to explain everything to him. I just told him: “Hey, leave him alone, leave YOUR character alone, he is perfect. I forbid you to criticize him.”

He said now it is all crowded when we are together, with so many ideas and thoughts and because we were four in the room. He and his ideas on his character in the blog. He and his ideas about himself in real life (he repeated a lot of times that he did not like the way he is. He did not like being different already at the age of 14), me and his character, and then me and my ideas about him. It was always a great moment to see him talking like that. Did I once tell you that he is complicated ???

When he left, I thought: “Love or friendship ?”  Both for sure. Definitely love, the purest kind, the innocent one. But with moments of desires if I want to be honest. I think somehow I would succumb this physical limit and desires if he once tried to push me in that direction. I would not be able to say no. It could be so confused sometimes. I miss him. I do not long for him. I am not thinking of him all the times. Sometimes I think of him with sexual phantasms. Most of the times, it is just platonic. But what is important is that whatever I do or think, I can always share with him. And he is never scared of me and my nuts feelings.

He seems so perfect, right ? But he is not, his unique biggest and unforgivable flaw: he is 21.(sigh!)