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November 18, 2011
Andrew and I grew up together. He was my middle-school crush, but it wasn't until college that we became close, as he was quite a bit older than me. We hung out every single day the summer of 2004; we were absolutely inseparable. Every night after work, he'd call me and we would make plans. He was a sharp dresser, and he'd always want to know what I was wearing so we wouldn't clash. He was also very protective, and he didn't think much of my favorite miniskirt.
We went dancing most nights, and then we'd watch a movie at his apartment before I went home. One night he made me watch Spy Kids 2, complete with the 3-D glasses, because he said I was too drunk to leave. He was always taking care of me.
One night he made me watch Spy Kids 2, complete with the 3-D glasses, because he said I was too drunk to leave.
Andrew was born with a serious heart problem. I think he coped with it largely through his art. In his last show, his artist's statement said in part, "My torso is riddled with marks, covered with markings that trace violations of the body with a surgeon's knife. These scars mark my identity." He gave me his "Cardiopalooza" t-shirt, with heart surgery dates instead of tour dates filling the entire back. I did notice that by August, his pace had slowed down, and he was having trouble walking more than a block at the time. I would ask him about it, but he always brushed me off.
One week in late September, he gave me his diary. I thought that was weird. I'd never give anyone my diary. I stayed up all night reading; it was full of musings on mortality, mixed with stories about hospital indignities and hints of a young man coming to terms with the fact that he probably wouldn't reach middle age. I knew he was trying to tell me something that he wasn't able to say to me out loud.
That Thursday we went dancing, and it was different. We were sweaty and intense and our bodies moved in synchronicity in a way that felt new and wonderful. We stayed out until the bars closed, and then went back to my house, where my roommates were making pancakes. We sat on the kitchen couch, too close together. I felt strange that night. I was his equal, instead of a little girl he looked after.
As my hand rested on the torn vinyl cushion, I suddenly felt his fingers touching mine. Whatever it meant to him, the electricity of that moment was stronger than any of the intimate naked moments I had spent with past lovers. I would like to say we shared a significant look that night before he hugged me goodbye, but maybe that's just my wishful thinking. I suppose it really doesn't matter now. There was a pause before he turned toward his car, our eyes met and for me, at least, time stopped right there for a little while.
The next night I went to Pittsburgh to see Lucero play, and after the show, someone called and said that Andrew had died. His parents beat me to his apartment and threw out a bunch of his stuff. I ended up going through his dumpster in the alley behind his apartment to pull out beautiful photographs, Rumbleseat seven inches, and t-shirts that still smelled like him. It's hard now, because that stupid apartment was on the same street I live on today; I walk by it on the way to the coffeeshop.
— Bex
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Commentarium (36 Comments)
I liked all of them but the last one. "Brought me to orgasm" belongs in a bad romance novel or a racy biology textbook, but not here.
Twas my favorite story, and I'm still here.
i bet you expected something romantic , go figure
Number 3 was heartbreaking.
i'm so glad for the time i had.
I bet he was too. I'm really glad I read your story.
Definitely heartbreaking, but it's uplifting to know and be aware of this story. This happened to someone, it meant a great deal to them, and I'm grateful to know about it from across the world. I'm glad that people share their stories like this, when they mean so much to them. Cheers Bex, from the UK.
Pepper spray the bastard!
Bex, your story was beautiful and heartbreaking. I'm glad you shared it with us.
thanks guys, it means a lot to me.
I've been through the same thing Bex. Have you learned to love again, and how?
I guess no one's ever made the best friends to lovers shift work for very long.
Kinda late reading these stories but after 11 years, my husband and I still make it work.
Wonderful, wonderful stories.... achingly wonderful.
its kinda weird that Andrew's parents were in such a rush to throw his stuff into a dumpster?
they found the photos he took of people doing suspensions - like when you pierce your skin with hooks and hang - and i couldn't convince them that he didn't engage in that activity, so they flipped their shit
But was this right after he died? Why were you both rushing to his apartment? Wouldn't his parents have a lot of other stuff to deal with if their son has just died, besides going through his things all at once?
people have strange reactions to death. this happened right after the funeral; they wanted to hurry up and get the apt cleared out while his dad was still in town. it's something they just wanted to be over and done with and not have to deal with again, it was painful to be in his home
No one's ever made the best friends to lovers shift work for very long?
I married my best friend 16 years ago, and we're still married, and she's still my best friend.
These stories are very poignant, but I'm surprised there isn't a single "and we lived happily ever after" among them!
...and your children look surprisingly like... ME! That's right!
Ugh. I have a story that would have fit just right, only it's happening to me right now. Nerve, run this feature again in 6 months or a year?
Just go ahead and tell your story here in the comments Shaya...
My best friend and I adore each other. Everyone wants us to get married, and we've hooked up before. Well.. tried to hook up. "Tried" meaning that we got naked, tried to have sex, and just couldn't stop laughing at each other... hahaha
I don't get the last one. No sexual chemistry up until the point where she took her clothes off? What changed? Especially for her?
I met Paul during the first week of my sophomore year of college. He had transferred from community college, and as soon as I saw him I could feel electricity between us. I had a long-distance boyfriend (James), though, so Paul and I hung out as "just friends." We would talk for hours, and even though there was so much sexual tension between us my roommate complained and kicked me out (she was a bit crazy, but that's another story), we never acted on it, possibly because Paul had a new girlfriend/hookup every week, and I was a dutiful long-distance girlfriend.
My boyfriend often talked about his new friends, who were very religious, and I was supportive of his finding a spiritual life in the way that only an earnestly liberal 19 year-old could be. One day James told me that he had joined the cult (his words), was moving to a remote area to summon demons (again, his words), and I was welcome to join him. I really thought about it, but a week later I told him that I couldn't join him and that our romantic relationship was over. He was surprised, saying "I can't believe you're breaking up with me over my religion!"
I cried all night, but around 6 a.m. my new roommate said, "You know, I've never met James, but you and Paul really have something special." I realized that she was right, and I called Paul. He told me to come over, and we've now been married for almost nine years.
How's that for your "happy ending" best friends story?
Double like.
Thanks, that was the kind of thing I was trying to goad people into posting. :-)
Nice story but it seems like your relationship with "Paul" was never a "just friends" thing- the only reason you weren't dating was because you had a boyfriend. THat's kind of a different thing.
Does it matter?
My best friend turned out to be the man of my dreams :). I thank the alcohol that made us kiss for the first time 6 months ago!
Sadly, it makes me feel better that all of these "falling for my best friend" stories failed just a miserably as mine did.
I listened to this while listening to the 25 Greatest Love Songs of the 1990s. Not a good idea. I need ice cream.
Me & mine lasted for 5 years. It ended recently with a very mature, logical split. We're still living together due to finances and we're making it as comfortable for each other as possible. He was the best boyfriend I ever had and he's turned out to be the best ex I ever had, too. We split because of the recognition we were beginning to want very different things from life, which was tough to come to terms with because we are otherwise very compatible. There's really no "right" or "wrong" in that situation. I have no regrets & I sincerely hope he finds a woman who is more on the same path as him than I am. I instigated the break up but we both seem to be doing better than ever now. I think of mine as a happy ending even though it didn't work out. There are too many frightful breakups in the world and I'm glad we aren't among them.
wow..number 3..just wow..I teared up
Ahhhhhhh! This is only making it harder to profess my love for my best friend!
almost 8 years . but still hiding the feelings to my best friend because i dont want to ruin our long long time friendship over my stupid feelings for him .. but its very hard for me. specially whenever he tell story about how in love he was right now .. its hurt a lot ..