Watching, wondering

“I never wanted to be your weekend lover
I only wanted to be some kind of friend, hey
Baby, I could never steal you from another
It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.”

— Prince, “Purple Rain”

I posted something to his wall when he joined Facebook all those years ago. Sweet. Cute. Not overly flirty. But, you know. Familiar.

Which, I figured he would appreciate. Yet by the next day, he had deleted it.

I understood.

Since then, I haven’t posted or “liked” or done anything to indicate we ever knew each other, beyond being “friends” on that nebulous platform.

Not that I’ve missed a single post, picture or link. I’ve clicked on every single one.

So it always blows my mind when I get a “like” or a sweet comment. Which, happens once in a while. My heart jumps about 4,000 feet each time, actually.

I often wonder if he is trying to capture my attention. Or whether he wonders why I just don’t interact with his postings that, let’s face it, he knows I would love. Or if he sees himself lost among my wonderful group of friends from all over the world.

Or whether he remembers this page and comes here instead to search for signs of himself.

I think a big reason I don’t go back there is because I’d show up where I know I would find him, and only let him out of my sight again when I’m good and goddamned well ready.

There’s no replacing him. And yet, no telling whether I could still even stand him for a long period of time. Or anyone, really.

The forced-solitude thing I’ve done these past couple years has made me antsy to be around people in general, and downright suffocated to be physically/emotionally close to anyone.

Yet it never stops me from wondering.

And if he’s wondering, no, I’m not waiting. But I’d be a liar if I claimed I weren’t watching for a sign.

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