They say that no one is 100% straight. I like to think that I'm 99% straight, and that one percent was a very special circumstance. His name was Chris. I know him in high school and he and I were very good friends, almost the best of friends. He also lived two streets over from me. We hung out together all the time and in the time we spent together, I grew to love him.
I never let him know how much I was attracted to him, because I knew he wouldn't be interested in doing anything. But boy, he was something. He was 6' 5'' and in amazing shape. He was fairly skinny, but what bulk he did have was all muscle. He had the broad shoulders and lean face of a man, even from the time he was a freshman. I loved when he wore tight shirts and I could see his pecs stretching the fabric. His nose was prominent, but made him look very noble. He had ear length dirty blond hair that framed his face perfectly.
All throughout high school, my affection for him grew. However, it was an unrequited love for our whole school career. He fueled many of my fantasies, but that's all they were: fantasies. I never acted on them even though every fiber of my being cried for him. And so it went like this for four years: me secretly yearning for him and him being seemingly oblivious. Finally, graduation came. I was torn about this. Part of me didn't want to leave but another part of me was glad that I didn't have to be tortured by Chris' presence. One day near the end of school, Chris asked me to come by his house. I assumed this was just to say goodbye, and it was, in a way.
