I send him an sms asking if he would like to join me for coffee. He says ok.

We sit amongst friends and families. A wife asks me if I was seeing anyone, at which point I started coughing. I coo at her baby and she tells me theyre only cute for a little while.

They leave, the families, and he and I are left alone. He walks with me across the street, getting mildly wet by the rain. He sits with me for a few hours, over a cup of coffee and water.

We talk, and we get to know each other a little bit better.

I fall in love with him a little bit. Him and his smiling dimples. Him and his young face.
Him and his philosophies on life, on religion, on economics.

For one second I think, I could marry him.

We both had brought books out with us for our relaxing weekend. His, non-fiction. Mine. Fiction. We talk about history and how he likes the reality that it is. The facts. I tell him that I too enjoy that, that I learn about history from the view of the people, the family.

He tells me stories about China are always depressing.

We sit, and we are silent. He has seen my wild side, he has seen my crazy side.
Today for the first time he sees my silent side. My mellow side.

My friend tells me to go for it, to make him want me.

But I know when to hang up the white towel, when to know that he is a friend, nothing more.
As much as I loved him without him knowing. As much as I find him my kindred soul mate.

I cannot make him love me.

After all, I cant do this all on my own, I know now, Im no Superman....