Crush in Stasis

I am still struggling to define what exactly the deal is with me and Shawn.

I ran into the Waiter's friend Mike on the dancefloor last night. After witnessing me grinding a bit with Shawn, Mike asked me point blank:

"Do you have a crush on him or something?"

Ouch.

I opted to be honest. "Yeah, pretty much. Sort of. For awhile now." Damn tongue-loosening shooters. "Is it that obvious?"

Mike shot me a concerned look, and leaned in closer. "No, no. Not at all. But... you should stay away from that guy."

No kidding.

"You don't know what you're getting into, there's stuff you should know - "

I vehemently cut him off. "Trust me, Mike. I know all there is to know about that guy." My tone was the verbal equivalent of a slap across the face. He looked startled, then incredulous.

I looked him straight in the eye with what I hoped was a meaningful look. "Really, you don't need to worry it. I know the score here."

I knew what he was going to tell me. Shawn is HIV positive. This was unexpected and upsetting news when we were dating last August, but it has since become just another detail, like "he has blond hair." Not that I'm insensitive - obviously it's a life-changing thing. All I mean is that, in a way, it's not a big deal. It simply is.

I'll never forget the night he told me. It was towards the end of our first date. We had ended up at Buddies and got quite drunk (mental note: stop getting bombed on first dates) and he sort of blurted it out to me at a random moment. I could sense he was worried about my reaction, but I handled it okay, hiding my initial response of terror behind a facade of understanding. He said something about me potentially being worried that I had kissed him. I told him not to be ridiculous, and kissed him again, full on the mouth, lingering there and savouring it, so that he would know I wasn't some fool who would be worried about a mere kiss. In my head I wanted to kill all the people who had ever made him feel horrible because they kissed him and were worried about it.

The music stopped. We headed outside, schmoozed some more, and then went to the store and purchased cigarettes and bottled water. I was trying not to cry, but didn't quite realize that yet. I remember holding on, containing it, so that he wouldn't know I wouldn't be able to handle it. We walked to the corner. He told me we'd talk next week, that he wanted to give me time to absorb it, and that we'd go from there. We kissed again, and he headed down the street away from me. I walked for a little bit until I was able to get a cab. In the car, I was short with the cabbie, providing only the necessary directions and nothing more. I felt like I would burst into tears at any moment.

When I arrived home and got inside my door, I did. Real tears, big fat rolling snivelling drops. Uncontrollable sobbing, total grief. It was a powerful and overwhelming reaction. I had never cried like that before, and I haven't since. My head still reels when I think of it.

What was weird was that I wasn't surprised. It had crossed my mind that he might be positive before we had ever gone out. It's not something I've ever spent a great deal of time thinking about, so at the time I brushed the thought away, not really wondering where it came from. It was as if, on some gut level, I kind of knew.

After some thought, it occurred to me it didn't really matter. I wasn't going to refuse to pursue a relationship with someone I was completely into just because they were positive. It seemed like that would just be stupid. I ended up calling him the very next day, and we dated for a couple of weeks. It was amazing. I was completely smitten. I'd honestly thought I'd found the one.

And then it was over. He just ended it. I'll spare you anymore details, but he just didn't know what he wanted. I can't say I blame him, either. I don't know how I'd react if I ran smack up against my mortality on a daily basis. But the ending was abrupt, and unexpected, and I was heartbroken.

We hung out a few times after, but mostly I stayed away. But gradually we've been more in touch, and now we're hanging out fairly regularly. My crush is still there, but not really. It's like it's deep in the shadows, in stasis, and it will only be allowed to move and come into the light again if it becomes completely safe to do so.

I suspect it will remain there forever.

As I thought, that guy Philip from a couple weeks ago was interested in Shawn. Rather to my horror, last night Shawn started telling me about the date they went on last week. And then went on about what a loser and a cokehead Philip turned out to be (apparently he visited the powder room every ten minutes during their date, which I have to agree is pretty tacky).

"That's too bad," I said, trying not to visibly squirm. "He seemed nice." And was pretty good in bed, too.

About an hour and a half later, Shawn turned to me and asked me point blank: "Did you and Philip do anything that night?"

I considered lying, but only briefly. "Yeah," I said, "totally."

A small part of me was hoping to witness a small display of jealousy. And then it occurred to me I may have slipped a notch in his eyes for sleeping with someone he'd deemed a cokehead loser.

Instead, he sort of jumped up and down and grinned. "I knew it! I fucking knew it!" He seemed pleased, not that I had fooled around with his bad date, but that his feeling that something had happened was correct.

I told him about Philip asking me not to tell him and how I'd thought it was weird, but that considering the opinion Shawn had voiced earlier, my urge to confess had faded pretty quickly.

Shawn didn't care. "I knew it! I could just tell."

I thought about telling him how these "I knew it!" type-moments happen to me about him all the time. That this chemistry we have seems to be shaping into a most interesting relationship - certainly not boyfriends, but somehow more connected than friends usually are, or at least more than most who have only known each other for mere months. But I didn't.

I have a feeling he already knows.