I had had a crush on him since sixth grade but all we ever wanted to be were friends. I was ok with that. We spent more time together than we ever did with the eight people we’d dated, between the two of us, since eighth grade. I was ok with that, too. In each relationship, we shared something different; something special to be appreciated. We could tell one another all the things we adored or detested about each relationship with the certainty that none of those things would get back to hurt the individuals involved. We could openly express our feelings,even for one another, without ever taking things personally.
I lived for the stories and the authentic, heartfelt reactions as we shared the memories of our first kiss; his in 8th grade and mine, freshman year of senior high. I’d imagine the scene, the way she looked and the way she felt, through the imagery of his words. I adored the way he would listen so attentively as I described my weekend dates during my relationship with Brandon. He empathized with me as I mourned its untimely demise. Christopher was my confidant and I was his. We could tell one another anything without jealousy, judgement, or ridicule.
I can recall, so vividly, the day he lost his virginity our senior year in high school; I wasn’t quite ready. I clang to each enthralling detail, every sensual sound, each intense moment of passion as he described the way their bodies rose and fell like the literary elements of a romance novel. I experienced my very first sexual encounter vicariously through Chris. I relived his moments of ardor as I basked in its aura.I could tell he really loved her.
My friends thought I was weird. “You actually enjoy hearing about the person you like loving someone else? ” they’d say with a look of disgust. “My blood would boil with envy,” they’d go on; “I couldn’t even pretend to be interested.”
But Chris and I were beyond “like”, we were in love. We understood, as few others do, that in love there is honor; and in honor, there is no space for jealousy and possession. We only ever wish to share ourselves and thus our experiences with one another unrestricted.
Compersion, a true privilege of unconditional love.
This is a fictional story about a very real, very true feeling.