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June 19, 2012

I’ve met someone.

Sort of.

We’re friends. When we met, he was casually dating someone else so I never thought of him as anything more than a new friend. We established a friendship based on mutual nerd loves and it was cool to have a friend who wanted to go with me to Underworld. He wanted to go and his girlfriend didn’t. We were a friendship made in nerd-vana.

When the casual girlfriend was demoted to ‘just a friend’, Nerdboy and I started to hang out more often. Somewhere between debating the comic Avengers vs. the movie Avengers and trading our favourite books, I realized I like him as more than just a friend. He’s nerdy, he’s hot, he’s funny, he’s nerdy, what’s not to love?

I still continued to meet up with a couple of internet potentials, but those poor bastards were doomed. I had formed a checklist of awesomeness based on my friend and none of those guys could meet it. I wanted them to pole vault but I was giving them a pool cue. Good luck, suckas!

It’s not that I think my friend is perfect, it’s that I think he’s perfect for me. It’s pretty hard to top that.

I spent weeks going back and forth with the voices in my head about what to do. Do I say something? Do I wait and hope that he says something? Do I bury the bodies six feet under or just make sure I’m deep enough in the woods that I can just cover them with leaves? Is my shirt too boob-tacular for just hanging out? Wait. One of those questions wasn’t supposed to be on this list.

I talked to myself in the mirror. I talked to myself while trying to fall asleep. I talked to myself riding the bus. It was a constant stream of internal debates. I became spinny me – going over every interaction, every possible nuance, every look – while I directed myself to the only logical outcome: say something to him.

Before I could undertake this incredibly simple yet incredibly nerve-wracking plunge, I received a phone call from another friend: she was ending her relationship of 10 years, could I help her move her things to her parent’s house?

I know that all relationships are different and not all will last a lifetime, but this is one that I truly thought would go the distance. I didn’t doubt they would work through anything. They were the couple that made me believe the bad dates, getting dumped by a text message (that was awesome!), meeting my boyfriend’s live-in girlfriend (that was great!), and dealing with a 37-year-old man throwing a temper tantrum in a restaurant (that was fun!) would be worth it. The idea that I could find a relationship like theirs kept me trying.

Yet there I was, helping her pack up her clothes and meeting him for a moral support lunch. They met during the first year of university and had been friends for two years before they started dating. They didn’t know adult life without each other. They were not only losing each other as partners, they were losing each other as best friends. I watched her hand back her keys and I made up my mind: I’d rather be his friend for life than to risk losing it all.

I stuck to that decision for a week, determined to be the bestest best nerd friend to him I could be. A lifetime of Doctor Who jokes trumps losing it over something as stupid as telling him that I want to be more. That was what I told myself. I repeated it again and again. I looked for any sign that he only wanted to be friends and I latched onto it. I replayed them to myself as proof I was making the right decision.

Then I saw the Monday poster by ZenPencils – which is a wonderful site that sets inspirational quotes to cartoons, you should all check it out – about taking the leap.

You can see the whole thing (and you should see the whole thing) here.

Am I really satisfied just being his friend? Seeing his name on my phone makes me break into a gigantic grin. Time spent with him is the most enjoyable part of my week. I can’t recall the last time I found it this easy to keep a conversation going with someone for three hours, ending only because our waitress was ending shift and needed us to settle up. He makes me laugh so hard I snort. I find the idea of watching one of our sci-fi shows together in silence just as appealing as going out somewhere together.

No, I am not satisfied just being his friend.

Taking the leap isn’t about what might happen in 10 years or even in 10 weeks, it’s about now. Either the jump takes us to a different relationship status or it gives me the end I need to move on. Whether that’s a positive or a negative ultimately depends on how I choose to view it.

So some day soon, I’ll be taking my jump.

I don’t know when. I’m a huge wimp and will most likely back out three or four times before I actually do it, but I’m gonna.

I promise.

Some day.

Before the end of June July.

I’ll keep you posted.

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