The weekend

I arrived at the airport ahead of schedule. I knew I was breaking the rules a little but I really needed some time to settle in and clear my head before jumping right into things. I took my time; went to the hotel we’d agreed upon and pulled out the first outfit that had been requested of me. I was supposed to meet him straight after the airport, but he thinks I’m coming tomorrow. For now, I simply relaxed and built myself up for what might be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.

We had joked about it for years but I never thought I would actually be here. It was more a fantasy than anything else. For one thing, I’d never been overseas. I was an introverted, shy, small town American girl and the idea of exploring the world intimidated me. There was always a desire to see certain parts of the world though. As much as I was a homebody, intent on reading a good book or watching a movie rather than going out to clubs and bars, I also wanted to live my life and have experiences to remember.

He’d been a distant friend for most of my life, but things never seemed to work out for us for whatever reason. He was dating someone when I was available, or I was involved when he was available the stars just never really aligned for us. Our rapport was undeniable though. The sarcasm and snark dripped from each of us and we played so well against each other. We always managed to have a good time together, even if it was just over e-mails and texts. He’d been there to offer emotional support in some of the worst points of my life. I wish I could say the same but, admittedly, I got hurt and pulled myself away from him for a while.

I could never really quite let go though. I just stayed along the edges of his life, looking in and wondering if I could repair the damage I’d done to our friendship. We both moved on with other people and it was what it was. Over time he started letting me back into his life. I don’t know if he’d just forgotten how we drifted apart or if he just genuinely missed our friendship. But, I was grateful for the reconciliation. I had a lot going on in my life but hadn’t really managed to make any friends in adulthood. I desperately needed a friend.

The idea started from a dream. I thought it was harmless enough to let him in on a fleeting memory from an otherwise forgettable dream. When I told him about it, he just got quiet and didn’t really respond. It was unusual, but I figured I’d just made him uncomfortable. Throughout our friendship there was one constant in my mind and that was the idea that he simply wasn’t attracted to me in the same way that I was attracted to him. I thought we’d laugh at the ridiculousness of us being anything more than friends and he’d joke about how it was just a reminder that I really needed a good fuck to release some of my pent up sexual frustration.

Then he volunteered. I played along, expecting him to admit it was a joke. I teased him about all of the things he could do to me to help me out. I honestly thought it was a joke when he suggested I come over for a weekend. It took a few months before I was fully on board with the idea that it wasn’t a joke, but a real proposition. I have to be honest, it excited me that he was showing interest in me. But at the same time, I was nervous because I’d known him for so long and we’d been so close that I really didn’t want to lose our friendship again.

He promised, one weekend, no strings attached, no guilt, no damage to our friendship. Just a weekend of two friends hanging out, talking and seeing where it went from there. Then we started planning. It had to be a time that worked for both of us, we both needed time off from work and time to put some other small details in order, like the fact that I needed a passport, for one thing. Now here I was, in a hotel room in London with my hands shaking from nervousness. He asked me to show up in red. A bright, attention grabbing red.

It was something I’d never done before. I was good at blending in, hiding and disappearing into the crowd. Standing out was not my thing. I lay the clothes out very carefully; my stomach was a mess. I hadn’t eaten anything in a couple of days over the nerves of flying and meeting one of my oldest friends in person for the first time. I was trying to drink plenty of water, but there were undeniable pangs of hunger every now and then. I chose to ignore them out of fear of suddenly needing to vomit.

I shower and lie in the bed. I didn’t do much more than stare at the ceiling for most of the night.