The interesting thing about being single is the opportunity to do what you want when you want without having to answer to anyone but your own conscience.

And your friends, of course.

My friends are my biggest problem.  Eh, my friends are among my problems.

So, I am really and truly single.  No super-secret relationships I refer to obliquely. No man I come home to at night with whom I actually share a bed.  No man texting or calling me from afar.

I have, at this moment, no entangling alliances.

LP is gone, silent, done.  Started up again brilliantly, but he’s gone silent, he’s gone away, we’re done.

BFD . . . no comment, but at this point, we’re just friends, though we’re sort of dating and he calls me nearly every day.

FM is out of the picture entirely, which I cemented when I had his friend sleep in my bed, with me and the dog.  “Classy.”  FM does say on occasion that he expects we’ll continue to love each other, be best friends, and have a sexual relationship. To which I say “hah.”

There is a little tiny secretish thing I am sort of toying with . . . PR.

I know it makes me a bad person to even contemplate getting back involved with PR now that PRX and I are now so close. But, among the reasons we’re so close is our relationship with PR and her desire to keep us apart.  How best to battle your chief rival for a man’s affections than by befriending her? But, among the other reasons we’re so close is that we are so similar, which is sort of how the same guys like us.  Not the same types of guys . . . the same guys.  We actually both dated PR, LP, and FM.

So, here’s the thing . . .

PR hit on me overtly at PRX’s farewell party, my birthday dinner and birthday party  . . all of this in front of her and all of our friends . . . which leads us to Saturday.

Saturday sorta makes me a bad person, even though we ultimately ended it with: “Okay, I am going to be good and go this way [to his building] and you’re going to be good and go that way [to a cab].”

His words. He was right. I did not do anything to encourage him. I was just there.

His band played a show on Saturday. My girlfriend C and I went to a gala and then the show, which was filled with our friends. I was aware of where he was, but I did not seek him out. His greeting to me was to hand me a beer.  A Bud light, I think. I handed it to my girlfriend C. He did not join us.

Eventually, we worked our way to each other and chatted.  All of our friends there know we dated and that we are no longer dating.  It’s also clear we like each other. Still, no one says a word.

During the second opening act, I went to the ladies’ room, which was next to the staging room.  He was alone, standing close to the door, in all his hipster glory, checking on his gear, so I stepped in to say hi. We chatted for about 10 minutes.  At the end, he wrapped his arm around me and kissed me.  It was actually perfect.  PR and I have always had amazing chemistry, and finally kissing each other after a few months, well, it was as I had remembered.

So, here I am being kissed my one of my best gf’s guys, and I know its wrong, but I also know I like it.

I wander back to our friends. He joins us later and then it’s show time.  I watch from the floor, with his best friend/bandmate’s gf, who I like very much. The gf and I often hang out together at shows and she’s again very respectful of the fact that PR and I are friends, but not together. I know I am repeating this a lot, but it feels significant that his friend, my friends, and our friends all see with us hanging out together and everyone is cool with it.  Part of it is that they like us together, part of it is that they know him, they know me, and they know PRX.

After the show, which was fun, they get their stuff sorted and then join us at the bar. Even heavier drinking begins, of course, and at one point a friend of ours decides to hasten the inevitable by buying me and PR tequila shots.  Thanks for that.

We wander to the back patio with most of the band and we’re having a blast. PR, as he’s the most successful of a group of wildly successful men, is the butt of every joke on stage and off. He takes it all in stride, as he does with everything, and we’re all laughing and joking.

Slowly, our friends drift out until it’s really just the four of us until the bar is nearly closed.

We are continuing to drink, knowing everyone lives within easy walking or cabbing distance and no one is driving.  We start taking photos, which become sillier and sillier until it’s finally time to leave.

PR and I stumble off vaguely in search of a cab for me.

We arrive at the intersection that has a hotel and his condo. We stand on the corner, and he kisses me. We are both aware of what we’re doing. But we kiss and hug a few times.  We laugh about the fact that the next time we will see each other is when he’s with PRX at FM’s birthday party. And we kiss again good night.

Perfectly well-behaved.

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