"Hey Pook."

He was the last person I had expected to see that evening. I work with a number of different live theatres in this area and one of my friends from this particular theatre had asked if I would help out, filling in as an usher and doing hospitality set up. I had to see the show anyway, so I of course said yes ("no" does not seem to be in my vocabulary). I had no idea he was in the cast.

The last I had seen Matt was the night we ended our relationship. In fact, in terms of my matured life, it could hardly have been called a relationship. It was indeed one of the several of those extremely intense, brief-lived, passionate-beyond-belief romances I have had in my life. It ended as it began, with a long look, a touch on the hand, but with a goodbye instead of a hello. He was classically handsome - in other words, not my type. But he had a way of making me feel special, as if I was the only one in the world that mattered. I have never had that feeling again in my life.


So there I was in the theatre green room, arranging cookies and struggling with an ancient coffee pot, all the while trying to be unobtrusive so the cast could "prepare". I could sense someone come up behind me, but I thought nothing of it. And then I heard that hypnotic baritone voice that had once made me melt in place. "Hey Pook". The years melted, as did I, and I could remember how his arms felt when he held me. Only it wasn't a memory. His arms were around me. And he had whispered that nickname in my ear. And he kissed the back of my neck. And I was 22 all over again.

A witty post? Well probably not, I'm not Thomas. Especially not today. All I've wanted in the past year is to be me. First and foremost. Independence. Why then would I care if someone doesn't want to be a part of my life in a more intimate way than friendship?

Maybe if I am going to use this space to explore that area of me, then I will need to get that bio page done. So if anyone ever reads this - it may make some sense.

Let me just say this though - I didn't think he would fit the criteria. He did. Most likely all points too.

Why me? Why is it always when I let the fence down, let the crack in the armor, and think - just for a brief second - that maybe this time..... That's when it comes..... Those words..... Those awful words..... "but we can still be friends".

Why do I let myself go through it? Why not just be done with it all. What is it that makes me let someone get past my personal firewall only to have them decide once they are in that I am only sidekick material? I'm starting to think that when my mother was giving birth that she focused on that Munch painting.