Be still, my beating heart.

Today I lay my cards out on the table. I bare all. I take the leap. I confess. I tell the boy.


Quick back story (we’ve discussed this already in a previous post, but clearly I feel the need to obsess so if you’ve read this before, my apologies) – the boy and I have been really good friends for years now. We have the same group of friends and hang out a lot – I’m “one of the guys” – until recently when the line between friendship and “more” got blurred (with the help of our good friends Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker, of course). Since then it’s been an on and off situation, with the both of us tip-toe-ing around the idea. Lately, we’ve been taking heavier steps and I’m finding it harder and harder to accept the whole “friends with benefits” situation.

So I’m calling him out.

I need me some answers.


And while I’m 99% sure that I’m going to get the “I don’t want to mess things up” answer, or the “I value our friendship too much to risk it” answer, or better yet the “I’m just not ready for anything serious” answer (personal favorite); I just have to hear it so that it can be solidified in my head. I need that door closed, and I can’t close it myself.


Yes, I am a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I’ll be wrong and we’ll live happily ever after. Either way, I need to know.



4 thoughts on “Be still, my beating heart.

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