I guess I stopped crying about half an hour ago after doing it for what seemed the whole time since Ross left after we moved all my stuff.
Honestly, I think pregnant women have to drink twice as much water as a normal person only because every drop we drink pours right out of our eyes again.
When Ross left I told him that I want to spend one more night at Joey's.
What I didn't tell him was that I was thinking about spending it with Joey.
But right now I'm not in any condition to do so.
After agonizing over it for hours I am still not closer to know what to think about me moving in with Ross than I was when Joey first made that suggestion.
I can't believe Joey made that suggestion.
It is the worst case of crappy timing in history because just a few hours ago, before this madness started, I finally found the reason why I don't want to leave ever.
I've fallen in love with him.
I don't know exactly when it happened but I suppose that doesn't really matter. These feelings have been there for some time now and I was just too afraid to give them a name. Too afraid to say something to the man who should know about them. Who – by the way – wants me to move in with someone else.
I take a deep breath to prevent another bout of crying and think back to the moment everything became so delightfully clear to me that all I wanted to do was to run to Joey and tell him everything.
We were in the coffee house when Ross came in and told us about his break up with Mona. She obviously decided she didn't want a boyfriend with Ross' whole emotional baggage and with a child from his ex-wife on the way.
It would be interesting to hear what she would've to say to me moving in with him again.
Strange thing was, I felt sorry for him. I felt not one other single emotion than compassion for his pain.
At first I didn't even realize it. I was comforting him and telling him all the things friends are supposed to tell friends in situations like this. That he's gonna be alright, that he's gonna find somebody else, that she wasn't right for him anyway, that we will be there for him.
After we stopped hugging, Ross smiled sadly at me and told me that he felt better already and this made me happy. Because it meant that he is really gonna be alright.
It was then that I noticed Joey had left. The others said he told them something about having to learn lines for tomorrow's DOOL scenes and had left in a hurry.
I decided to give him some time for that and while Monica took her turn at comforting her brother, I started to notice a very subtle but important change.
In the years before, every time Ross broke up with a girl I had felt glad somehow. Glad that there was a chance for us to be together again. Glad that another girl had failed to take my place in Ross' heart.
Some soul searching later I couldn't find any trace of those feelings left in me. I just felt genuinely sorry for Ross having to go through yet another failed relationship. I found myself hoping sincerely that one of these days, he would find a woman who loves him the way he is, with all the history he brings with him. A woman happy to build that kind of life with him he always wanted.
A woman who very certainly isn't going to be me.
This thought was more liberating than I could've imagined. It freed me to think about which hopes I had for myself.
I too, want to find the one true love.
Unwittingly the image of Joey popped into my head. This was my moment of clarity.
I've already found it.
I recalled every moment Joey and I shared over the past six weeks since I first kissed him and I found one consistency. There was always this aching in my heart, this suppressed realization that this was about more than just fulfilling a physical need.
And then there were the moments when I had to make a conscious effort to stop myself from naming those feelings right then and there.
Like that time on the couch. Or that time when he came home from work later than I expected and I was nearly crazy with worry. He was so touched by the fact that I was worried and that I missed him that it was one of the very few times he kissed me first, one of the rare and precious moments when I felt like he might have feelings for me too.
Another one of those moments was the first time I felt Emma moving.
He was so sweet, so gentle and so full of heartfelt wonder over the tiny miracle inside of me that I would've given everything to just be enveloped in his embrace like that for all eternity.
I can still feel the overwhelming happiness, the unbelievable joy of hearing Joey say 'I love you' right next to my ear. I can still feel the bottomless disappointment of realizing he wasn't talking to me. Guess it proves how much of a bad mother I am gonna be that I was actually jealous of my own child.
Back then I felt the need to run away from him, from the emotions he evoked in me, but he didn't let me go.
And then he basically told me that I could come to him whenever I wanted to sleep with him. I think he was trying to do me a favor. Offering something that went against everything he believes in and everything he feels because he thought this was what I needed from him.
I suppose I should've said something to this offer. I should have told him that I don't want to just have sex with him, that I want so much more than that, things he wasn't willing or maybe even capable to offer. I should have made it clear that I don't want this to be a dirty little affair no one must know about.
I should have at least told him that even if it were just about sex, it would make me feel horrible to always be the one who had to ask.
I should have left, taking my last scraps of dignity with me.
But I didn't. I wasn't able to.
He was kissing my neck and his hands were everywhere on my body and it felt so good that I thought that nothing could be worse than not being with him right now.
I was right and at the same time – I was wrong.
Having to ask was a nightmare.
It's not like I had to issue an engraved invitation or something, I didn't need to spell it out for him. Sometimes I started kissing him, sometimes I just took his hand and led him into his room, sometimes I touched him and looked at him a very certain way and he always knew what I wanted. He never made me ask twice.
But it still felt like I was lowering myself to a level of neediness I would usually be ashamed of. It felt like taking something that was given out of pity not out of genuine interest in me.
Therefore I tried to put up a fight against my needs every time they awakened. To no avail whatsoever. I've never won.
However, I was always rewarded for my defeat with quite memorable sexual experiences, extraordinarily intense and passionate. The most exhilarating moments in our encounters were the ones when I managed to break through the underlying resistance I could always sense in him, when I made him lose control, when I could start to delude myself that he wanted this as much as I did.
I've never failed to bring him to that point.
Joey never failed to bring me to the point where the world around me faded into insignificance, where nothing else mattered but the two of us, where I felt worshipped ... and loved.
Maybe I am delusional. Maybe I am trying to see things that aren't there but sometimes ... sometimes I was so convinced to see what I feel for him reflected in his eyes.
To be honest, most of the time I saw a lot of other emotions, none of them even remotely happy or joyful.
I saw confusion and guilt, sadness and anger and I knew it was all my fault.
The way he looked at me when it was over haunts me. This look of sadness and disappointment always made me leave his bed as quickly as possible. There was no way I would've been able to hold it together if he would've confronted me with these emotions right after making love. I yearned for some time to pretend, for some real intimacy, for content smiles and sweet nonsense murmured in my ear, for falling asleep in the safety of his arms.
When I realized I am in love with Joey, the hope I could have all this and so much more was wrapping itself around me like a warm blanket, shielding me from everything harsh and cold.
Obviously, it was mostly shielding me from seeing the truth that I discovered when I came back with Ross from the coffee house, happy and hopeful.
The truth is, Joey doesn't return my feelings – at all.
Because regardless of who my baby's father is, if Joey would love me, we could have found a way to let Ross be more involved while still living together.
If he'd love me, he wouldn't have thought me moving out is a good idea.
But if he is only a friend and never will be more than that, he may be right. In this case, it might be better for all of us when I'm living at Ross'. Maybe after the baby is born the whole crazy pregnancy hormones thing is going away and everything will be back to normal.
Gee, who am I kidding. This is not about hormones. This is about me having feelings for Joey. I seriously doubt that they're just gonna go away. As experience proves, it is never that painless.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It is pitch black in the apartment. I'm standing in front of Joey's closed door and argue with myself about going in.
Yes, it hurts that he wants me to move out, but he was trying to do what he thought is right for Ross, the baby and in the end, me. I can hardly hold that against him. And yes, he was distant the whole time Ross helped me packing and moving my stuff, but maybe this isn't easy for him either and I know he's like that when he feels vulnerable.
I want to be with Joey in my last night in this apartment. I want to have sex, I want to feel the overwhelming passion he never fails to ignite in me and I want to spend the night in his bed if he'll let me. Maybe there is still a chance that if I tell him what I feel, he'll let me stay with him.
I open the door and am surprised that he's still awake. He's lying on his bed fully clothed and is reading what appears to be a DOOL script. When he hears me come in he places it on the nightstand and looks at me with an odd expression.
"What do you want, Rachel?" he asks in a tone so cold it makes me shiver. And now I can also place the expression on his face. It is totally void of emotion, something I never saw on him before.
The sense of impending doom that is slowly crawling up inside of me leaves me speechless for a while. I sit down on the bed beside him and notice him trying to put some distance between us.
"I thought … since this is my last night here … that … that we would…you know …spend it together."
He is smirking. He is actually smirking at me right now.
"Was that what you were really thinking, Rachel?" he says leaning towards me a bit in an almost threatening manner.
"Because I'm quite sure you were thinking something along the lines of coming over to have sex with me one last time."
Of course that is partially right but I don't understand why he is suddenly such a jerk about it.
"You know what, babe? It's not gonna happen. It's never gonna happen again and I can't even begin to tell you how relieved I am about that."
A sharp pain slices through me.
I know that pain. I felt it first when Gunther told me about Ross and the girl from the copy shop. It's the pain you feel when someone breaks your heart.
And they're not right. The first cut isn't the deepest. This one hurts much more because he does it intentionally. He didn't make a stupid mistake and he isn't even sorry. He wants to hurt me. I can't believe I misjudged him so completely.
I hate myself for crying because I don't want him to see what he did to me but I can't help it.
"Save the tears Rachel. It isn't that bad. I'm sure Ross will be more than happy to fill in for me in the future."
That's it. Somehow I find it in me to swing my fist at him and punch him so hard, his head snaps to the side.
He slowly turns his unfeeling gaze back to me, gingerly touching his bruised jaw and smirks again.
"You can hit me all you want, Rachel. But I'm not gonna be your fuck buddy anymore."
I welcome the fury that these words ignite in me. It's better to be mad than to be heartbroken. The anger makes me want to hurt him too.
"I hate you," I say through gritted teeth and run out of his room, suddenly needing to get as much distance as possible between him and me.
xxx
My tears are almost blinding me as I throw the rest of my stuff that is still here into my bag.
His words echo in my head, lifting up the level of anger and pain that I feel with every repeat.
Fuck buddy.
I can't believe that this is what he thinks that was. I can't believe I've spent endless hours agonizing over my feelings for him when this is all it ever was for him.
A service, something he is actually glad not to have to provide anymore.
Something he thinks I would let any other man do for me as well. It is devastating to realize how embarrassingly low his opinion of me is. I silence the nagging little voice inside of my head that tells me I didn't give him much reason to think otherwise. Because that would mean it is my fault.
It isn't my fault, he is the unfeeling and insensitive idiot, who doesn't know the first thing about me. Who doesn't know I would never go to a guy just for sex. Who doesn't realize how much I love him.
Loved him – past tense. It's over. I'm glad it's over. It was only hurting me anyway.
I put on the clothes I had already picked out for tomorrow and head out of the apartment. I would like to slam the door shut behind me but refrain from doing so for the sake of Monica and Chandler's sleep. I can't stand the thought of spending one more minute under the same roof as this heartless bastard.
xxxx
tbc
