Should we act on our hidden desires?
It happens even to the best of us – we find suddenly that we have become attracted to someone who exists in the realm of the forbidden, the unattainable. Is this the real love that dare not speak its name? And might we be better to declare our love, no matter what the potential cost?
Anne Sexton, 17 Nov 2009
On the dance floor Damien took me by the shoulders, pulled me closer and then rubbed his body up against mine. I jumped back and pretended to hit him through the face. “Very funny,” I said, but he was not dissuaded. He grabbed me around the waist, hooked his leg through mine and grinded his crotch against my thigh. I pushed him away. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked. When he stumbled back and laughed I realised how drunk he was. I took him by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you
some air.”
Outside we sat down on a ledge. “I wish we were in love,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Why?” I asked. “Because it would be so much easier. You’re one of my best friends and one of the few people I really trust.”
This was true. Last year, Damien had discovered that his erstwhile best friend had been sleeping with his girlfriend. Since then he had cut them both out of his life and I’d been promoted in his estimation.
“You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked, cuddling up to me on the ledge. “I know. I love you, too.” “There’s just one problem,” he said, holding his head in his hands. “I really want to fuck you.”
I took his drink, drained the glass and slowly shook my head. “It’s because we’re friends, I’m female, and at this moment you’re drunk and lonely,” I replied. “Maybe,” he said. “But it’s not just about sex, I’ve always liked you. Sometimes I think I am in love with you.”
Truth be told, I had no idea that Damien had ever had any sexual attraction to me at all. We’d gone out, flirted with other people and even slept in the same bed on more than one occasion. He’d once – rather insultingly – told me he could never fancy a red head. I had stopped thinking of him, at least in relation to me as a sexual being, years ago.
“I had no idea. You never said anything.” He shrugged his shoulders and threw his cigarette on the ground. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d care.”
As we sat in silence I wondered why Damien had told me this now, much too late, long after any initial attraction I’d felt for him had been blunted by years of friendship. At another time, in another place, perhaps our relationship could have gone in a different direction, but the moment had passed.
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