Breathe

When he touches me it feels electric. My head on his shoulder, his arm around me. I don’t want to move because I don’t want to break the connection. I notice every brush against me and every twitch of his fingers resting next to mine. He puts his hand in my hair. I inhale. He puts his head against mine.

I feel sparks.

And I know that he feels the warmth, the pressure, but only I feel the current. I know that he will never feel the current, and it would break both our hearts if he did. But I don’t want to lose his touch. I say nothing. I let him hold me tighter.

He can never know.

I notice you standing close to me. I stand still and you appear, drifting towards me, watching where I go so you can go there too. And I notice. I always notice. I want to stand away from you, just for a moment, I need to breathe. But you appear. I want to run away again. But I don’t want you to notice. I feel guilty.

You start to touch me. A pat on my head, a finger on my nose. It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t want it to bother me. But I feel the lingering pressure on my skin, feel it seeping deeper, and I need to wipe it away before I can’t think anymore. But I don’t want you to notice. I feel guilty.

He brushes his hand through my hair. I make a face and readjust it, smoothing it down. But I wish he’d do it again.

You notice. You brush your hand though my hair. I want to rub sandpaper along my scalp.

But I don’t want you to notice. I give a half smile and fix my hair. How do I tell you that I don’t want you to touch me when you see him touch me? Why don’t I want you to touch me when I want him to touch me? I feel guilty.

He hugs me. He’s strong and warm and I feel safe in his arms. I crave his pressure. He even squeezes too tight, but I don’t mind. I wish he wouldn’t let go. But I don’t want him to notice. He can never know.

You try to hug me. And I’m scared. I don’t want you to hug me. I want to run away, I want to slap your hands away. I want to cry. But I don’t want you to notice. I pat your shoulder, block you out. You’re surprised. You laugh. I run away. I feel guilty.

Maybe you noticed. I hope you noticed. I hope you’re not hurt. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want space to breathe.

You don’t try to hug me again. I feel relief.

Until you do try again, and I’m just as scared as before. I let him hug me. And I don’t just let him, I love it. When he hugs me I feel the electricity, and I don’t care that it’s only me. I just want him near me. When he hugs me and I don’t push him away, I know you can see. Am I wrong to have different boundaries for different people? I avoid you. I feel guilty.

No. He worked for it. He let me open up. I sought him out. But I notice. I can feel you pushing. When we’re apart, you want to be around me. When you’re around me, you want to be close to me. When you’re close to me, you want to touch me.

If you’re just a friend, he’ll know he’s more than that. He can never know. If he’s just a friend, you’ll think you’re less than that. I feel guilty.

But how can you be my friend when you don’t understand what you’re doing? How can you understand what it feels like to be a woman? To be aware that a man noticed you. Picked you out. You follow me from room to room. Do you think I don’t notice? I’m not threatened by you. I don’t fear for my safety when I’m alone with you. So why do I get so nervous when I feel your eyes on me when you think I don’t notice? Why do I want to scream at you to leave me alone? To let me breathe. You haven’t done anything to me.

My friends, my mom, those wise folks on the internet. They tell me to talk to you. Explain. But I can’t. You’d get hurt. You wouldn’t understand. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t.

Because you’re a man.

Do you like me more than a friend? I can’t tell. I don’t want to assume, or don’t want to be full of myself. But if you felt that way, you could understand why you make me feel this way. Why I feel so suffocated.

My friends know. They know I don’t hate you. They know I don’t want to avoid you. Not really. But they’re women. We understand each other. I talk to them, and they feel your eyes on them, sense you following them from room to room to room to room, see you reaching out for a hug, and they feel nervous not because you’re unkind but because you didn’t ask them if it was okay. They know because they have a You. We all have a You. And no matter how hard we try, we can’t make You understand.

I wish I would just stop feeling uncomfortable. But

I can’t.

I’m scared to be next to you because you’ll put your head on my shoulder and I can’t push you away.

I’m scared to leave because you’ll say “Hugs!” and I can’t yell “No!” and run for it.

I can’t win.

I’m scared.

Is this how he sees me?