He asked me, “What does it take to be your friend?”
I looked at him.
Silently weighing him against
My shaping of what friendship is to me.
I watch him watch me watching him
And then his eyes trail elsewhere.
“My eyes are up here,” I tell him.
Then I say, “well that depends.”
He said, “depends on what?”
I said, “on whether or not you’ve ever been friends with a womyn you didn’t want to fuck.”
Eyes wide. Steps back. Jaw dropped.
He said, “what?”
I asked, “hard of hearing now?”
Watched him silently contemplate my question.
Watched his mouth open and close trying not to lie.
Watched the gears turning work through a decision.
So I asked him, “if I deem you worthy of friendship. Will you honor me?”
Looked around confused like I was down on one knee with a proposal.
Giggled at his slight discomfort. I grace him with a smile.
“Don’t worry. Be easy,” I say.
He says, “somehow this don’t feel so easy.”
I smile. Part lips and say, “to be friends with me takes work. You have my friendship for as long as you choose to honor it.”
He nods. “And if I mess up?”
So I tell him, “you will. I will. We will. But if you’re willing to make amends I will always meet you in the middle.”
Honest | Let Go