G and I met in Amsterdam. I was out with a friend when we stumbled into an Irish pub called Dan Murphy’s. It wasn’t a place where we’d usually go, but we were well into a couple of drinks and resolved to wait there until the club around the corner would open.
As we fell through the doors of Dan Murphy’s, my friend swayed to a group of all-female Irish tourists on our left. I laughed, and as I looked to my right, a group of guys summoned me over in loving pity. Those lads would soon become my friends, and drinks at Dan Murphy’s a weekly affair.
When we met, G appeared withdrawn and troubled. In my odd way to get his attention and let him know I saw him hurting, I informed him he looked like 50. He laughed, and we started talking. That evening, and at least a year from then, I never thought of G as anything but a friend.
From the start, we had a big friendship with a sincere sweetness to it, unique in our affection for each other.
We’d meet up for drinks before joining the rest, go to parties, concerts, the odd exposition, and dinners at places others didn’t care for. I invited G to my thesis defense as my only friend. He brought me to his favorite trashed underground clubs and made us vodka limes at his place.
We were both in a relationship that was ending when we met. Mine sooner than his. I rebounded with one of G’s friends and made a mess. And G kept on hurting with the same woman for longer than I wished for him. Our situations kept us in the friendship zone, but I’m happy they did. It made for our foundation.
Our friendship continues to live on in our love, although ever more altered since we traded it for more. Still, I like to believe that if we’d strip away the romance, the friendship would restore itself to that initial state. It’s a comforting thought.
It wasn’t until I was traveling in India, though, that I began to realize I was missing G perhaps a bit more than just as a friend. When around the same time he commented on one of my public Facebook posts that he missed me (for all the world to see–G.), I suspected something might’ve changed for both of us.
Still, it would take me another three months to get the message, which I finally did when G asked me to come with him to Essouira. It’s a plan that we sealed the same night with our first kiss, right in front of the doors of good old Dan Murhpy’s.
📸 Photo taken by Silvia Falcomer – 2017, Seoul