Wednesday, October 19, 2016
For years, I have cherished the memory of how a friend, about to leave the country, had kissed me, her impulsive expression of the sincere affection and unspoken sexual tension between us. I remembered the pressure of her arms around me, the tiny flick of her tongue against mine, how I felt warmed inside afterward, knowing that she had affirmed that never-expressed connection between us.
The other day, I asked her why I didn't hear from her anymore. She told me that recent events, some personal and some public, had enabled her to admit that she had never felt the same towards me after that time I grabbed her and forced my tongue into her mouth.
It would be easy for me to angrily deny that it had happened the way she recounted it, but I can see that no good would come of doing so. It would not restore the friendship I had damaged so carelessly, nor would it restore the illusion I had before.
Often, when someone asks me a rhetorical question in an argument, I am able to provide a non-rhetorical answer, to my great amusement. I will often follow that reply (with links to documentation supporting my claim) by saying, "Never ask a question if you aren't sure you can live with the answer."