Long Day Like Usual [Sean]

Sean wasn’t reading her thoughts, although he could read her body language and her facial expressions easily enough. Besides, he had seen this hundreds of times over the years, and he had been where she was now. That didn’t make it easier for her, of course. Though he wish that he could make it thus.

He also half-smiled at the remark of reminding her of her father. Not that he knew a great deal about her father enough to know if it was a compliment without reading her further. But he developed vaguely paternal feelings about the students, and it was...nice to be told that in return.

“No, it’s not the same, but when we’d talked about this last, you said you were worried about losing her as a friend as well. It doesn’t have to be that way, and I wanted you to know that.” Sean was well aware that there existed a world of differences between being friends and being lovers, but if one had to choose between friendship and nothing, nine times out of ten, friendship would be chosen.

Perhaps he was the last person she should see when it came to romantic advice, considering the mistakes he made in all of his relationships. Perhaps she would be better off talking to James or Chase or Claude; their left hands had the jewelry requisite to counsel others on lasting, healthy relationships.

The closest he’d ever been to marriage in a relationship ended with an argument over the possible wedding venue. He had been honest in explaining that he couldn’t in good conscience get up in front of a church and make a vow to a deity in which he didn’t believe, in a building for a faith to which he wasn’t a member. And that had been one of his better breakups.

Losing love is like a window in your heart. Everybody can see you’re blown apart... One of the reasons Sean liked Paul Simon music was because the man was a natural poet, with great insight into the human condition; for every emotion, every experience, Paul Simon had an appropriate song. This was why such lyrics popped into Sean’s head on occasion, particularly coupled with certain memories. Or with certain ingrained behaviors, such as finding himself in bed with his closest friend whenever he had a bad breakup. So in that way, he couldn’t say he had anything to miss, because they occasionally had sex.

In many other ways, he did miss the relationship, because what they had now was friendship with benefits, and that wasn’t a relationship at all. And in still another way, with the gained insight of maturity and that of hindsight, he knew that they couldn’t have a sustainable relationship, unless they both changed so many factors that he couldn’t begin to imagine fully. Intellectually, he knew all of this. And yet...

And yet, he would give it another chance in a heartbeat, because he was a hopeless romantic in that way. But he was happy to be friends with the other man. And none of this was appropriate to tell a student.

Holding that all in, he tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “We’re not the same people that we were, and so part of what I miss is just part of nostalgia, if you know what I mean? And I value our friendship more than any other that I’ve known, so that means something.” He paused, and then added, “And he and I weren’t, and aren’t, like many people out there, so don’t think for a moment that because my relationship didn’t stay more than friendship that yours can’t jump that hurdle and last. I don't have those guarantees either way; I'm merely the advice man, not the prophet.”