Radio Static

I love to fly down a back road with the radio blasting, when the notes are crystal clear and your heart syncs to the drum beat. And then...

Static.

It creeps in, making the words a little fuzzy, the treble a little unbearable. And there's not much you can do but drive through it or change the station.

For all the radio silence, I've had a song in my heart for awhile now(if I had to be specific, it would sound like this or possibly this). But since nothing gold can stay, static has been creeping in, mostly in the form of Alex.

I'll be the first to admit that our relationship will probably never be strictly platonic. And after the years of history we've had, who would really expect it to be? But somehow, I've never really felt like the book was closed on "us". And it sucks. I don't want to end up a Rachel Green(because who in the hell gives up a dream job in Paris for Ross Geller?!). Maybe he's my lobster, but what if I'm not into seafood?

Friends metaphors aside, I'm not the only one of use that feels that way. We had a talk on our back porch the other night. I won't go into great detail, but we talked a lot about "us" and our problems. We admitted that we had been pretty great during all of the times we weren't a couple, but those eight months we were? Shitshow. I admitted that as jealous as I would be, he should date other people(or at least try). He admitted that all this with the muse had stirred up a lot of feelings. We laid out a few ground rules(Honesty, for starters. Romantic partners were welcome to come to the house, but no sex. Things like that), and decided that what we really needed was to rebuild our friendship.

Just as I was getting ready to go inside, he says "Can I ask a question? I mean, it'll make me sound like an asshole." Gearing up for what was sure to be the kind of question that made him sound like an asshole, I said sure. In a quiet voice he says "Do you think we're ever gonna get back together?' And he sounded so sad and hopeful that I wanted to punch him in his face.

Now, I could've lied and made it easier on myself. "No, Alex, we're totally done." I could've done that, and maybe i should've. But I was honest. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll just have to see how it goes."

And now there's static in my radio. Not because I question the feelings I have for the muse; If anything, I'm more sure of them. It's from the creeping feeling that my nice, clear drive is a fragile thing, depending on a few waves of broken up signals.

Time to switch to a CD.