This past Friday night, I was talking with my best friend here at Ivy University and she mentioned that she had been hanging out with that guy from my frat and he had brought me up in conversation. Recently, he had said something vaguely complimentary and a little rude about me to Craftsmate, so I rolled my eyes and tried to change the subject.

“He says that he really wanted something with you but realizes that if you two were ever something that it probably wouldn’t last long. And he would rather be your friend and not lose you,” she blurted out.

It was the most vindicating thing I could possibly hear. Things were strange and ambiguous and he had been fluctuating between aggressive pursuit and then trying to basically Almost Famous me away to Craftsmate. I wanted to be his friend, just his friend, without the weird grey areas and the weird nonsense flirting.

Fast-forward a few hours. We’ve all had a little too much to drink and I spot that guy from my frat, rush over, throw my arms open and say a little too loudly, “I want to be your friend, too!”

“Ivy, we are friends,” he replied, laughing. He hugged me close.

I could feel that I was smiling like a moron, “that’s great. That’s really great."

We went out together Saturday night. As friends. Before we met up with some other people, he and I were having a drink and hanging around. Nearby, somebody turned and made a comment about our banter, saying we should go tour. We laughed, smiled at each other, and went to go find our friends. The evening was fabulous.

Sunday, we had dinner together. Conversation was easy and afterwards he walked me to the library in the most unassuming way possible.

Hurray. Chapter closed.

That guy from my frat and I have a sort of banter going on, explains my friend. We’re interesting to watch, sometimes in a funny way and sometimes in a slightly painful way. We don’t always go easy on each other.

Today, he sat down with some friends of mine and I and we proceeded to go at it with each other. There’s something about someone who comes so close to being able to outwit me that incredibly turns me on. Intelligence is terribly, terribly sexy. So is confidence.

When he left, one of my friends threw his hands up in the air and cried out in frustration, “would you two just fuck already?”

Guess what I’m stuck thinking about now.

Reconciled.

Remember how I told you all that I said something to that guy in my frat that may have even dashed our hopes at just friendship? Well, I’ve been reconciled, as one of my friends called it. Part of me is glad it’s been essentially resolved, part of me is sort of embarrassed about the whole thing.

Here are the facts:

That guy from my frat and I hooked up maybe two weeks ago. He came out with a group of friends and I and, after partying, he realized he’d left something of his in my room. We wound up messing around a little bit. Oops.
After a few days of just generally being awkward, I went out on that ill-fated night and wound up trying to essentially pick him up. Unfortunately, this did not alleviate the awkwardness and instead just made us more awkward. Exponentially more awkward.
I let some time pass and gave the situation room to breathe and, on Friday, we schedule to go get brunch together on Saturday to “reconcile stuff”. This will basically consist of me apologizing to him over and over, something he insists that I do not need to do.
I catch him out the night before reconciliation brunch and wind up drinking a little too much and, once again, trying to get him in my pants.
I literally do not know why I keep doing this. One, I’m not even that into him. Two, it’s totally screwing with the friendship. Three, it’s just making things harder on me and I know it. In the words of my friend, “I think drunk Ivy likes to give sober Ivy some adversity to overcome.” Great.
We go to brunch the next morning where I apologize profusely and, when I don’t apologize profusely, I make the most awkward conversation known to man. But, God, that kid is forgiving.

Moral of the story: Sometimes it’s just better to be friends with unfulfilled sexual tension.

Sometimes, it’s not all about sex.

One of my best friends at Ivy University is gay. Let’s call him Jay. (See what I did there?)

Jay’s a really amazing guy. Supportive, funny, soulful, gentle. He’s got a wide range of talents and is just too good for words. He’s stunningly attractive. I love him to bits.

Of course, he’s gay, so we don’t get involved. Right?

Well, Jay has decided that he wants, for one time, to see what it’s like to fuck a girl. And, after watching me change once during freshman year before we went out, he’s determined that this girl in question should be me.

Only, I’m really not feeling it. I don’t really want to be his experiment. We’ve made out before during a game of Kings, but otherwise I’ve really tried to keep everything super platonic and veer away from the physical. However, sometimes Jay has his own plans. Once, after misinterpreting something I’d said as a come-on, he legitimately stood up and went to unbuckle his belt.

Woah there, partner.

So, what I’m telling you is that there’s this giant elephant in the middle of our friendship. Jay wants to fuck me. Once. And then go back to being with men.

This year, I moved to one of the older buildings on campus. There’s sort of a thing going around about cockroaches from the age and the ease with which they can enter. I’ve tried to keep things clean and make it seem as far from the Roach Motel as I can.

But, I came home last night from dance class to find this gigantic cockroach in the middle of my floor, stuck on its back, and squirming frantically. I screamed. I panicked. Tears may have been shed. After some experiences with cockroaches in the past, I have an incredibly visceral reaction to them.

I tried to pick it up myself at first, the old paper and cup method. But, I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t sure what to do or how to handle it. I finally took out my cell phone and texted Jay, asking if he could do me a favor. He texted right back asking what I had in mind. I texted that there was a cockroach in my room and almost instantly he called me up, saying, “I’m on my way now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

Readers, this boy leaves nearly halfway across campus from me.

When he came, he embraced me, took care of the cockroach, embraced me again. And all there was in that embrace was friendship and compassion.

I think about how many of my and my friends’ relationships with other people have been colored by sexual tension. Things don’t flow as smoothly and it’s harder to just be genuinely compassionate. Everything’s just a little bit tainted.

But I cannot describe how genuine the whole thing was. Maybe I’m over-examining it, maybe I just have a wonderful friend (with sexual tension).