The Artist: How would it be with you in my life?

"Your eyes are like each morning's sunrise...
Your lips are so wonderful...
I love you...
I miss you...
I want to spend every possible moment with you...
I know I don't express it when we talk, but I really love you..."

The voicemail was from The Artist. I haven't seen him in something like a year and a half. We've been in relatively predictable contact since then, one of us calling the other about every two months at least, although sometimes more often.

I met The Artist through mutual friends four or five years ago. Our contact was just that of acquaintances -- sporadic & completely unpredictable -- for a year or two. I'm not sure why or when we exchanged numbers, but I found myself using his one semester when I took a class that led me to his town once a week.

Before that, we'd only ever been together with a ton of others around. I had liked the boy from the first time we hung out, I picked up on some signs that he might feel the same, and I wanted to see where a little one-on-one time might take us. My feelings weren't like a full-blown crush with constantly distracting butterflies. It was more a steady sort of attraction that wasn't so much me lusting after him or being enamored of his high-capacity brain and asshole attitude, which is usually the case when I really like a guy. This was something different. All those Tuesday visits that semester amounted to exactly squat in the romantic realm. I figured he just wasn't into me.

A few months before I vacated The Black Hole*, something did happen. The Artist showed up at my house with a birthday present. He ended up staying the night.

I left The Black Hole soon thereafter, and I've seen The Artist once since. He and some friends came to Transitory Town to catch a concert while I was there. Everything was fine at first. He was really affectionate, I was having a good time, and it felt good to be with him again. But things suddenly got weird toward the end of the night, and we ended up sleeping in different rooms. I left confused about the whole situation and haven't seen him since.

Like I said, we keep in touch, but I just assumed he wasn't that into me. We might as well live in two different worlds, anyway. He's still in school, still down near The Southern Homestead, still spends more time fucked up than not.

When we talked a few weeks ago, The Artist mentioned coming up for an extended visit this summer. I agreed, but I have some reservations.

There's the whole imposing-on-Roommate factor. There's also the fact that we're in such different places in our lives right now, in terms of geography and pretty much everything else. Part of me would like to think his coming here might help him distance himself from the negative influences in his life. Rationally, though, I know he'll be going right back into the same life when he leaves here and that, most likely, nothing will change.

The Artist did say he had other people with whom he could stay during the visit. That makes me feel a little less hesitant about the proposal, but it doesn't alleviate all my worries. Considering I actually have harbored feelings for him on some level, I don't know about re-opening those gates and dealing with the aftermath.

The voicemail caught me off guard. Then again, when wouldn't a voicemail with a profession of love do just that? I haven't acknowledged or returned the call yet. I really don't know what I'll say.

* Is my unbridled affection for my college town apparent?