Guilt

Every time I talk to a guy (or dance with a guy, or whatever), Richard turns his head to smile at me. In a way, it feels mocking. Maybe part of it is. After all, I basically portray myself as being only half a step away from asexual. But I brought it up with Shannon this morning, and she said it's because "He feels bad. We both do." For those interested, Shannon and Richard are now an official couple. So official, in fact, that they've updated their facebooks.

"We just want you to be happy," she said. I've been hearing a lot of that lately. Last night, my drunken friend was praying out loud and she asked God to bring a Caribou Coffee to campus for me so that I could be happy. She has mentioned, sober even, that I tend to be willing to give up my own happiness for the happiness and well-being of my friends. But all of these things she's said I've done have seemed like no-brainers to me. Last night, I slept in a "bathtub" made by pushing two armchairs together so I could take care of her while she was sick: I can survive without catching up on my sleep for one more night. I back off so two of my friends can start dating: other guys will come along, and my friendships with either of them mean more to me than a one-sided attraction that never would have gone anywhere.

Any time Shannon's guilt of nearly Catholic proportions comes up, I remind her (and myself) that neither of them have done anything wrong. We can't help who we are attracted to.