What if you and I had decided to kiss that year and a half ago? Broken that great friendship, there on my couch late that night, to discover one another. Instead of dodging the idea between a knocked wine glass and the front door.
What if it had led to better things? Something incredible. That I can look back on with such tenderness. Rather than this tinged sadness that I did not see you enough when we were able.
What if that night had ruined it all?
What if I had never let you come past that afternoon? Would I still be able to face you now without thinking, we messed it all up.
What if I was not too busy with friends to actually go on that date with you? Would I be feeling stomach turns and girlish grins today.
What if you had not stayed for my last glass of wine? Perhaps I still would not know you. Perhaps we would not think of the other with anger. Perhaps I would still be about to meet you, this time when we were both ready.
What if you did not have another woman when I was ready. What if I had never discovered the other woman.
What if, when we finally did kiss, the night before you left, you had not said to me, “I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time”. And I’d been allowed left to imagine we were just being drunken horny mates.
One is not meant to live life by “What if”s.
But they do cause the sweetest of dreams.