Oliver Benjamin
First, we were just friends. She was a smart girl, after all, and she
didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I had to fight and earn
my place in her world, and that was one of the things that made my
feelings for her so special: that this was the only real thing I ever
fought for in my life. It was also the only real thing I ever earned,
because you can’t truly earn something if there isn’t a little struggle
involved. I had invested my entire self in the one thing I recognized
as meaningful and genuine in this world, and it paid off big. For me
at that time, that was the ultimate definition of love, and right or
wrong, for the both of us that’s what it was. I loved Charly then as
much as I hated myself. And maybe to some extent because I hated
myself. She loved the world, but knew there was something wrong
with it. Before I met her, I just thought that there was something
wrong with loving the world.
And she knew how to turn down that irritating radio that tore at
my brain like vultures at Prometheus’ liver.
Winning over her affections was hard work, though. For once I
actually had to be brutally honest, tearing my heart out and holding
it up for her to see. But no matter what my demonstrations—from
bringing her flowers on every holiday from Cinco de Mayo to Ash
Wednesday, to presenting her with a Play-Doh sculpture of her name
and an endless stream of awful poetry, Charly categorically refused
my advances. She insisted that she enjoyed my company, and that I
was very thoughtful and made her laugh, but that she just didn’t like
me romantically. And she also said that if I ever tried to kiss her again
when I was drunk at a party she would kick me in the balls. Clearly,
I had to resort to other methods. I tried whining.
“How can you do this to me?” I wailed.
“What do you mean, Jake?”
“I mean, how can you take the very first honest, true feelings
that I have for another human and just disregard them like that?
Couldn’t you even try?”
She looked at me incredulously, “Try what? In what manner?”
“Couldn’t you try to like me?”
“I do like you Jake. You’re my best friend. You’re the only guy I
know who likes me for my mind, and I’m the only girl at this school
that can appreciate your brand of mindlessness. We’re perfect for
each other. But Jake, I don’t want to lay with you. I want to stay with
you. Can’t you see how happy I am just to be your friend?”
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