I Don't Know Her
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom
I Don’t Know Her
Her picture hangs in my living room. Yet, I have to pretend that I don’t know her.
For practically a year now we’ve been communicating almost daily—e-mails, instant messages, text messages, quiet phone calls, dozens of hidden happy hours, and many more long lunches, sitting alone on a bench, in the park, together.
I consider her to be one of my best friends.
Yet, she is married and she is happy and they still do it . So she can’t come over, because she is married and she is happy and still afraid that we might do it .
Thus, sometimes I think I should take the picture down, put up a pin-up or photo of merely a piece of her instead. For what good is a good friend who you desire, if you can neither be true friends or truer lovers?
I guess this is the moment when I’m supposed to appreciate the extent of our amity, the diurnal back and forth, the constant undulation of words and feelings and some of the greatest secrets ever shared.
Hence, how dare I lament my imposition, how dare I demean all that she truly means to me despite the forbidding circumstances?
Yet, her picture still hangs in my home, and yet, I still have to pretend that I don’t know her.
(R&O thank you for the inspiration)