Are we just friends?

Modern Austen
Jul 29, 2017 · 7 min read

As much as I want to be a great friend, I feel that sex is really complicating things…

Dear Modern Austen,

I should have known that I’m not someone who can have a love affair. But I am a romantic, and the idea of having a casual and intense sexual relationship with a man excited me, felt like something I should want. The only problem is that I’ve fallen in love. I’ve attached myself to the idea that we’re meant to be together.

Our relationship began like a modern retelling of a Jane Austen novel. We met at a bar about two years ago: I was sitting alone at a table, he walked over and started chatting me up. No man had ever talked to me with such passion and intensity before, so I was taken aback. Even though I wasn’t as attracted to him as he was to me, I felt compelled to give him my number.

A couple of days later, I ended up blocking his phone number. I didn’t know how to his text messages, which seemed intense and over-the-top. Perhaps I was afraid of the passion he felt for me. Yes, I think I was.

Fast forward a few months to the day when we met again by chance. This is really where our story begins. I was sitting at my desk at work, listening to music while entering numbers into a spreadsheet, when a group of new hires who were getting a tour of the office walked by my desk.

I smiled at a man on the tour whose eye I happened to catch, not recognizing him until he said, “Cleopatra?” This was a nickname I had received only once in my life (I was wearing a Cleopatra-esque necklace at the bar the night we met), and I pulled out an earbud to make sure I had heard him correctly: “Sorry?” “Never mind,” he shook his head and ran to catch up with his tour.

The next day, he came over to my desk to apologize for his behavior the night we met, worried that I would make life at his new job a living hell. We introduced ourselves properly, and I told him not to worry. I was actually impressed by him and thought that apologizing to me was pretty courageous. That night, I unblocked his number and texted him to let him know that I was interested in us getting to know each other.

I remember thinking our relationship was moving way too fast, but I didn’t want to stop it. It’s also never been what you might call a ‘relationship’ (though my therapist has a different opinion on the matter). We’re lovers, to be sure, and the sex we have is incredible. While the relationship is free of commitment and strings, I somehow always find myself feeling hurt.

I hate the jealous and obsessive person I can sometimes become when he’s unresponsive or has one excuse after another about why he needs to cancel our plans last minute. I tell him I understand, and I do, but I can’t help feeling that the way our friendship works is a little unfair to me. And I tend to get angry with myself for always being available when he wants to meet up.

I’ve never really shared these feelings with him before. I try to rationalize what I’m feeling and why I’m feeling it, until I finally get to a point where I can understand where this man is coming from. And then I forgive him.

I did confront him once (via Facebook Messenger) about how poorly he was treating me: he seemed to be brushing off any attempt I made to try and talk to him. In my message, I made a point of saying that I’m not always sure where I stand with him, to which he made it very clear that we’re “friends and nothing more.” He really doesn’t want to be in love again, and he doesn’t want someone to place any kind of expectations on him. He’s in a place where he really needs to fix his life and heal from past wounds.

As much as I want to be a great friend, I feel that sex makes that difficult. I don’t know what our relationship is without sex. And I think that what I want has changed as I’ve gotten to know him and how good we would be together. It’s not that I want him to be my boyfriend; I just want us to live our separate lives together and be available to support each other. I want to be more open about our relationship, whatever it is; I don’t want to go on hiding it. But, mainly, I want clarity.

He thinks he’s been clear with me this whole time, but that’s not really the case. I always hold onto the fact that he said we’re just friends, but he’ll often say things like “if we get married and have kids” when we’re talking about life, and he has let “I love you” slip from his lips several times. I have also tried to end ‘us’ a few times, thinking that the relationship had run its course, but we always come back to each other: We both deeply respect and care about one another.

I feel that one of us has to do or say something to move us forward — no matter what direction that might be — and I’m afraid that it’s going to have to be me. I love this man, and I want to be in his life forever, but I’m not sure it’s possible.

Sincerely,
Can’t Define the Relationship


Dear CDTR,

It’s often much easier to love someone who can never be yours completely. While having intercourse with this man may feel like he has given you his heart, the truth is that he is probably afraid of letting himself fall in love. But your letter isn’t really about this man; it is about you, how you believe you should be treated, & how you treat yourself.

I am reading a great deal of fear between the lines of your letter. You have already made it clear to me what you need to do in terms of your intimacy with this man, but it sounds like you lack the courage to say what you need to. You write that the relationship — & I must say that I am in total agreement with your therapist in defining this as a relationship, whether you chuse to define it as such or not — has reached a point where it needs to move forward or end, & one (or both) of you needs to be the impetus for this change. Even though you know what must be done, you’re angry with yourself for chusing to do nothing.

Perhaps you lose courage when you remember this man has told you — on a few different occasions — that he only wants to be friends, & you believe that telling him you need something more will ruin whatever it is you both have. The truth: The connection you currently have with this man might be ruined, for you cannot force someone desire the same things you do.

But the intercourse is good, you have a comforting friendship, & you’re both drawn to each other for some unexplainable reason. Could being honest with this man about what’s in your heart really put all that at risk? If you believe it can, then I must question why you want to be with him at all.

Instead of facing this man about your feelings, what you’re doing is blaming yourself for falling in love; for not being the type of person who can have a love affair; for wanting something more than he’s been willing to give you. You might have once desired having only a casual intimacy, but you’ve moved on. Now you want an open relationship that’s giving & loving & easily defined.

While your Amor — whether it’s intentional or not — seems to be trying to suppress any discussion about this by telling you that there never will be anything more between you than friendship, he is not doing anything to prevent you from sharing what’s in your heart.

At the core of your letter is a fear of ruining a perfectly good modern Jane Austen novel. You’re afraid of disappointing the story. But what sort of story do you want to be the heroine of? One where you silently continue with an arrangement that gives you a few bursts of happiness amidst a sea of pain? Or one where you proudly declare what you want and make a lasting happiness?

I am not suggesting that this relationship is bad for you or your lover; it can be wonderful! But it must first be equal. You must speak your mind to him. If you seriously want this story to carry on like an Austen novel, your understanding must be based on openness and honesty.

Yours,
MA

Do you have a question for Modern Austen? Ask a 19th-century woman at [modernaustenblog at gmail dot com].

Modern Austen

The diary of a 19th-century woman living in the 21st century

Modern Austen

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The diary of a 19th-century woman living in the 21st century. Profile image via the BBC.

Modern Austen

The diary of a 19th-century woman living in the 21st century

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