literal sense of "being given courage" - here. Anyone?

Not a pretty girl

The Friend and I met at the start of our post-grad years in a big city. Some mutual acquaintances had gotten a bunch of people together at a bar. We didn't even really like each other at first. His intelligence had a way of coming across as slightly condescending. And my tendency to mask social insecurity by playing up the macho-dyke side of my personality apparently got semi-obnoxious after my third shot of Jack Daniels - or so he told me years later.

We never would have chosen to socialize after that. But "12 Monkeys" was opening that Friday and everyone wanted to go - so that threw us together again. When the film let out, he and I spent hours in a coffee shop passionately arguing about it. We were both suprised to realize how much on the same wounded-romantic wavelength we were.

We've commiserated over a lot of underpaid jobs and psycho girlfriends in the - Jesus Christ - 10 years since then. And as we hung out on the edges of a really dull New Year's Eve party last week, I realized that we're not young any more - and never will be again. At midnight we kissed on the lips - which we've done in a friendly way before. But I held it for a while this time. And he didn't pull back. And afterwards there was an awkwardness that neither of us could ignore.

"So what do you think that was?" I asked as he walked home in the cold later.

"Quixotic?" he said with a pained grin. "I mean... what are we talking about here? I'm American League. You're National League."

I'm discreet. I'll just say that the All-Star Game was played. There were fireworks.

Now I'm proud to say that I'm no LUG. I've been flying the rainbow flag with fervor since Bush the First and taken my full share of societal lumps for it. So there's a political dimension here. But I think it was dear queer E.M. Forster who said, "If I must ever choose between betraying my country or betraying a friend, I hope I will have the courage to betray my country."

So I want to go for it. I'm just nagged by guilt (thanks, Catholic school!) that I'm "selling out", or knuckling under to my freaking bio-clock, or - worst of all - setting up my dear dear Friend for a terrible betrayal if I've misjudged all this and end up returning to my femme-loving ways of old.

I guess I'm looking for encouragement - in the literal sense of "being given courage" - here. Anyone?