Buffalo Dave

I've been thinking about Buffalo Dave a lot lately. Because I miss him, because I feel guilty for letting so much time go by without chatting with him, because he called me last week and chastised me for letting so much time go by without chatting with him -- but also because as I examine and re-examine my failings in the romance department, I cannot not think of him. He was the first person, the first time I actually felt pain in my chest, I actually felt my heart breaking in a million little pieces over him.

We became friends -- and because we didn't live in the same town, we talked on the phone, a lot. And by doing that, we got to know each other really well. I idealized him, I fell for him -- and, as has been the case of many people in my life, I saw things that weren't there, or that were being communciated in actions in one way, but in words in an entirely different. So I chose to ignore the words, and focused on the flirting, on the attention.

For three years, I pined for him. My friends at work knew instantly when he called, because of the change in my voice. And then, one day, I realized that I needed to do something. I either needed to tell him how I felt, or I needed to move on. Both were scary options. But it needed to happen.

I knew that Dave was going to be visiting our mutual friend Ed (who was living in Connecticut at the time), so I wrote Dave a letter and mailed it to Ed. Over the course of the next week, I think I called Ed three times a day. "Don't give it to him. Give it to him. Don't -- rip it up. No, wait....give it to him." I finally relented with my inner struggle and said, "it's out of my hands, just give it to him."

And so Dave called me the next day, to tell me that he didn't think of me that way, that he loved me as a friend, that it wouldn't work, etc. To his credit, he went out of his way to make sure it wasn't weird between us. And even when it was -- and it most definitely was -- he pushed us through it. And now, 10 years later, I wonder if the me that I am today, if the more confident, more secure me -- if this person is someone he could have fallen in love with, if this me is someone he would have looked at differently.

It's silly to wonder what if, because I'll never know.


I've written you some stories,
but I've locked them all away.
I'll keep them close to me
until that final day.

And when that day has come,
what is it that I'll know?
Will you be the one,
the one to have and hold?

These stories that I've written,
and the one I want to tell
are buried deep within my heart,
but I know them all so well.

One has you falling in love with me,
and hoping I'll never be gone.
You realized the mistake you made
that I was here all along.

In yet another I walk to you,
wearing my wedding white.
I see the love you have for me
and I know that I was right.

To hope, to dream, to wait so long,
I never gave up on you.
We'll be together forever,
this I always knew.

But then I see you getting married,
in other stories still.
And the woman that you marry
is not the one I hope you will.

You have a life carved out,
and in it I don't belong.
The greatest fear I have
that I may have known all along.

The saddest story I own
is one I haven't told.
The worse case I can imagine
has me growing old.

For in this story I never tell you,
the feelings that I feel.
And so we live our separate lives,
the hurt will be so real.

I waited too long,
for fate to intervene.
I never did tell you.
It's something you've never seen.

And so the story I must tell,
by now you may have guessed.
The man I want in my life
has been my truest friend yet.

For it is you I tell the truth
and pray that I won't lose,
the greatest friend I've ever had
the kind of friend I use.

But I need the endings to my stories,
and then I'll tuck them away.
I'll pull them out and think of you,
in years to come someday

And so the questions you need to answer
go a little something like this.
Is she the one, the one for you
or will I get the wedding kiss?

Will you say I'm the one,
I'm the one to stay?
Will you say you love me most,
each and every day?

Or will I only be your friend,
your great friend for life?
Reliable, loyal and truthful,
but never to be your wife?

ellie
october 1996