If it were up to me, he would kiss me. We’d be in the past so that the past never happened. We’d have those moments of deep breaths together, necks and lips stretched out so we didn’t have to part. We’d close our eyes and bow our foreheads into each other. And just know.

But that was the past before it caught up to us. All we have now are mouths that move, tongues that twirl out of sync with the other. We’re separate. But still unable to be apart.

I don’t have to explain the heartache of wanting to kiss a man who doesn’t want to kiss me back. The sadness of knowing I can’t make him want to. When my inner demons come out to play—the whispers of not pretty enough, not smart enough, not enough—when they have my attention, that’s when it stings the most. They add to the whispers, “and he won’t kiss you.”

But when I’m not consumed with defeating myself, when it’s daylight, and I’m wonderfully happy being separate but not apart, I appreciate us. I appreciate him. He’s smarter at “we” than me, less careless, always a step ahead.

After all my fighting to make him want, and the frustration and heartbreak of not succeeding, I just let it be. And once I let it be, I saw all that it was. All it is. Months without the intimacy of a kiss can bring clarity.

I met him three years ago. He was playing basketball at the courts in California, and I mean, who knew? Who knew that sexy man dunking on all the white boys would make me cry so much, laugh so much, would become one of my best friends? After all the bullshit, I still find it hard to believe he’s such a major player in my life.

What we have is beyond a kiss. More than the phone calls and face time a relationship requires. We have a friendship. A respect and adoration for the other person’s being. We see each other’s potential and fight for the other to make the most of themselves. He brings out a different laugh in me, one that’s deeper, one that comes from the kind of dynamic only we understand. It’s an inside thing.

I hate him often, as it’s hard to go from romantic intimacy to simply enjoying each other’s company. All of the emotions and jealousy that come with a relationship linger. If he fell in love with another girl, my world would be devastated. Oh, but how much more it would hurt if he had been kissing me all along. He’s smarter at “we” than me.

The few people I’ve told about our non-kissing relationship think it’s weird. It is. What we have is rare. First the kissing left us, soon after perhaps the sex, then the cuddling. It will happen, but we will remain. Of that I’m sure.

I know I deserve to have a man who wants to kiss me. I will have that. But in the meantime and after, I have him.