A late night appeal.

"Hey."

It was the first word he had spoken to me in a week that wasn't in anger.  Last night at 11:00 my phone rang.  John's name was on the caller ID.  I debated about picking it up.  

"Hi."

For a moment, we said nothing.  I was afraid to talk, afraid he was about to start yelling at me again for God knows what this time.  

"How are you?"

So I told him about Laser Tag and Whirly Ball and Asshole and Cheney and how I really liked the people I went out with yesterday and how I drank maybe a little too much.  There was another pause.

"I'm scared."

And because I'm a good friend, I knew I had to listen.  So I let him talk about how nervous he was that things were going so fast and how, since October 15, he'd manage to see this girl every single day except for two.  How he loved her already.  How he thought she was the one.  

And because I'm a good friend, I told him to be happy.  I told him to go into it with his whole heart and be a good man.  That's really all I ever wanted for him anyway.  I told him that things are good now, but they won't always be.  And when they aren't, it will suck and it will hurt but that he will get over it.  If she's this important, he'll find away to make it work.

Then he said something that I never thought he would say.  "I want to move in with her."

Now, I don't have to know this girl to know this is a bad idea.  Anyone reading this can see this is not a good idea.  But he's a fool in love and he's my friend.  So I politely expressed my opinion (all the while wanting to scream "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!") and explained delicately that babies are fun when you can put them down and go home and that living with someone is not the same as just staying at their house every night.  It's a lot of pressure.  "Are you ready to be a father?"  He didn't say anything.

So we changed the topic of conversation and moved on to lighter things.  Like Christmas presents and other things to that nature...  and it was just nice to know that he still thought my opinion mattered.

Eventually, we were too tired to talk.  We said our goodbyes and for the first time, I was ok with that.  If that was the last conversation we ever have, I would be ok.  John and I were never "the one" for each other.  I always knew that.  It doesn't mean that I would ever stop caring about him, or he for me.  I realized that whatever end-game I had in this whole situation was never going to end up with us going back to the way things were.  I had to accept that.  We were lucky to be close as long as we were.  Exs rarely stay friends, it's just a part of life.

"So, I wish you the best in your life.  You need to do everything possible to make this work with her, you deserve it.  And I deserve to give every chance and my whole heart to someone else.  I need to figure out my life without you in it," was really the only thing left to say.  And I said it.  

It's scary and it's a new beginning at the same time.  I'm kind of excited.