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MidReal Story
The Unrequited Love
Scenario:Steve wants to have sex with Olivia
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Olivia
Steve
I want to have sex with Olivia.
It’s not a secret.
I’ve wanted to do that since high school.
But I never told her.
Nor did I tell anyone else.
Except for Mark.
My best bud.
He said I should confess my feelings to her.
Then he warned me to be prepared to lose her as a friend.
Because she might not feel the same way.
Or she might feel the same way, but not want to ruin their friendship by becoming intimate.
Mark also said that if I don’t take the chance, I’ll always wonder what could’ve been.
Olivia is smart, funny, beautiful, and sexy.
I think she’s the total package.
But I can understand why someone wouldn’t want to take our friendship to the next level.
It’s a big risk.
What if we break up?
Would we still be able to be friends?
Or would it be too hard?
I remember when Olivia broke up with her ex, Gary.
She wanted to sleep with me.
I wanted to, as well.
But I didn’t because I didn’t want it to seem like I was a backup or a consolation prize.
I wanted our first time to be special and meaningful.
But I was afraid.
I didn’t want to be a rebound guy.
I didn’t want to be a one-night stand.
I wanted something real.
So I told her no.
She was upset, but she got over it.
We’re still friends.
I’m pacing in my living room, phone in hand, rehearsing what to say.
My thumb is hovering over Olivia’s contact photo - that silly selfie we took at the beach last summer.
The sun is setting, casting long shadows across my carpet.
I take a deep breath and press "call."
She answers on the third ring.
"Hey, girl!"
Her voice is cheerful as always.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual.
"How’s it going?"
"Not bad. Just got off work. What about you?"
"I’m good. Just hanging out."
"Doing anything fun?"
"Nah. Not really."
I’m sweating bullets.
My palms are so clammy that I’m afraid I’ll drop the phone.
"Where are you?"
"I’m at the grocery store—"
"Come over," I interrupt her mid-sentence.
"Now."
There’s a pause, and then I hear rustling sounds.
"Everything okay?"
She asks, her voice tinged with concern.
"Yeah," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I’m making dinner and need your help choosing some wine."
I know it’s a lame excuse, and I’m sure she does, too.
But she’s going along with it.
"Okay," she says.
"I can do that. What kind of wine are you thinking of?"
"Just something decent."
I say.
"Not too expensive."
"Sounds good. I’ll be there in twenty minutes."
"See you then."
I hang up and rush to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.
Then I dash into the bedroom to change my sheets and put on fresh clothes.
I pick a black dress that Steve once complimented me on, and a pair of high heels.
I brush my hair and apply some mascara.
When I look out the window, I see Steve’s car pulling into my driveway.
My heart is racing like a jackrabbit as I watch his car door open and his long legs unfold from the driver’s seat.
He’s wearing a button-down shirt and dark jeans - a little dressier than usual for him.
I wonder if he’s got a date tonight or just wanted to look nice for our dinner party. When he reaches the front porch, he pauses for a moment before ringing the bell.
I can see the hesitation in his body language - maybe he’s feeling as nervous as I am?
When he hears my footsteps approaching, he turns toward the door with an expectant expression on his face.
And then, when he sees me standing there in my little black dress, his eyes go wide, and his jaw drops.