Confessions of a hot mess: We’re just friends, I swear

Every day, I bite my tongue and hope no one notices the way I look at her.

There should really be an emotional support group for people in love with their best friend. Except we’d probably all just sit in a circle pretending everything’s fine while gaslighting ourselves into believing we can be happy being stuck in the friend-zone.

Our friendship started off innocently enough. Inside jokes, picnics in the park, sleepovers, late-night chats that lasted until sunrise. You know, “friend” stuff.

Although most friends don’t have to talk themselves out of drunkenly making a move outside of Osmow’s after Dollar Beers, and hate themselves the next day for never being able to work up the courage. Our whole friendship has been a never-ending cycle of never knowing peace. Just dopamine, hesitation, and a whole lot of gay yearning.

She’ll say, “I’ve never met someone like you,” and my soul ascends into another dimension, quickly followed by a “you know, like, as a friend,” and I’m immediately reincarnated into a clown. She’ll grab my hand when we cross the street or rest her head on my shoulder while we watch a movie, and I’ll have to go lie down and stare at the ceiling like a Victorian widow.

I’ve become a full-blown method actor, making sure not to laugh at her jokes too loudly, touch her arm too long, and have even tried to train my pupils not to dilate when I say her name. Some may call it delusion or psychosis: I call it being devoted to our friendship.

Sometimes, I think about what would happen if I told her. I’ve imagined all the possible outcomes – from her kissing me and saying the feelings are mutual, to her looking at me in disgust and never wanting to see me again. In every version, life changes, and I lose the safety of what we have now. I wonder if that makes me a coward. Probably. But it’s better than losing her altogether.

But here’s the thing. Beneath all the confusion, the sexual tension, the “does she like me or just act like this with all of her friends,” there’s something real. Even though I know I’ll probably never get my fairytale ending, I still spend most of my time having Chat-GPT dissect every text message she sends me; she’s still my favourite part of every day.

I’m no relationship expert, but maybe that’s what love is supposed to look like. Wanting them to be happy even if it’s not with you and being grateful that you get to love someone that deeply, even if it’s unspoken.

So yes, I might be delusional, but I’m also lucky. Lucky that I have someone who makes me laugh until I can’t breathe, who inspires me to be the best version of myself, and who checks my location to make sure I get home safe every night. I may be hopeless and horny, but I’m also loved. Maybe not in the way I want to be, but for now, that’s enough.