I love Urban Dictionary. It is quite possibly the best app I have downloaded for my Android phone.
*** Friends with Benefits: a healthy, fun, sexual relationship between two people … until one falls for the other (or mutually) and the friendship blows to pieces.
Things get a little sketchy sometimes in my dating world. It is like I self sabotage just because I am so cynical over the love vs. realism theory, and I have no control over the timing of when it will happen, it just usually happens along non-chalantly and rips every ounce of my pre-determined emotional capability apart at the seams and throws itself into my face taunting me with “You knew better.” … This time, boy oh boy have I thrown myself under the metaphorical bus of self inflicted misery.
I can see you dancing circles in my mind and I remind myself, no strings Amy, no strings. The things about you that persistently reel me into you seem to come so naturally to you, yet to me, they only add to my confusion. The way that your slender fingers glide across my hand or softly pull my body closer to yours as we lay side by side. The warmth of your body touching mine as you nervously fidget in your inability to remain completely still. The glow on your cheeks as your smile flashes my way, because your optimism about this life and the people in it is absolutely refreshing and inspiring. The way that you get excited about goals and the future, sheer determination in every aspect of your mindset. Most of all, the fact that you are absolutely on cue with every single motion, so much so that I find comfort in the simple sound of your voice. I keep looking for one thing, one little thing, that will absolutely drive me nuts and give me a reason to push away, and you’re giving me nothing to stand on in order to validate an expiration date on, whatever this is.
I know what it began as though. We both do. Oddly enough, I’m just as happy you are that you came in that day. I am thrilled that we both agreed on so much right out of the starting gate. I just wish we had agreed on the less complicated theory of the rules.
Allow yourself to love but love yourself more. I am trying. Experience has shown me through trial and error that these emotions never work and it is actually just going to make it that much harder for us to just be friends. Damn you for possessing the ability to show me emotional invigoration a top of physical attraction in such an easy coming flow of batting those baby blues. I thank you at the same time I blame you by the way, for adding that kiss into the recipe for emotional failure and blatant disregard for my own common sense.
I regretfully speculate that the more time we spend with each other, regardless of our overall intent; it should be deemed as an inevitable factor that this feeling will not just simply pass and allow me to revert back to feeling like I did a month ago, just as I am afraid that it won’t pass for you.
What I failed to initially acknowledge is that this arrangement has never worked in the past, it has never been bullet proof before, so why go into this big long theory regarding the separation of emotional intimacy from sexual intimacy. It is impossible, seemingly and increasingly so with each encounter. Even with ground rules. Even if we do keep our emotions and thoughts to ourselves as human beings. We are still lying there, vulnerable as ten thousand hells, with oxytocin pumping rampantly through our systems, completely exposed to the atmosphere around us and everyone in the room, we are doomed.
To be vulnerable and alone. Not all at once, and for damned certain not at the same time, that happens to be my biggest fear. Funny how our hearts short circuit on us, is it not? Telling you things about my life and knowing that I have found someone who makes me smile, that sir, is horrifying to me. I am still trying to distinguish new emotions here and things are a bit vague for my own tastes.
As a general guideline of acceptable actions, there are two types of men that I refuse to date or to engage in sexual encounters with, of any sort.
a.) My brother’s friends. – It always ends horribly.
b.) My friends. – It always ends worse than horribly.
I need to remind myself of that fact … Maybe seeing it in print will jog the memory.
I could go on and on with lame rules and theories about how you should try to make the relationship work for your situation, I really could. I could fill your head with a fairy tell movie scene and falsely feed you highly overplayed expectations of happy endings to come. Except, they would all be bullshit lies and they would probably sound something like:
Rule #1: No Expectations along with a legally binding contractual agreement, signed and witnessed by 16 innocent bystanders who will be willing to watch one of you break down in a pool of your own Kleenexes and mint chocolate chip ice cream and cry with you, in a month or so.
Rule #2: Limit the contact as well as the information holders of your private affairs. The last thing you want is to have your brother find out, far before you have the opportunity to tell him.
Rule #3: Cuddling. May I make a suggestion here? Thirty Minutes and two cigarettes later as he exits stage left … Mumble “Later bro” and don’t do the whole awkward post sex hug/pat on the back crap that you’re going to want to do. Just, go make a sandwich and wave as he’s walking out of the door. Hands down.
So. To prevent the rules from seeming more like a book on how to crash and burn in hell…
Let me explain the rule for friendship and physical intimacy in just two short words. . .
Rule #1: Friends Don’t. Buy a snuggie and rent “When Harry Met Sally" instead ...
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