Emotional Witch-ducking, part 2: The Next Adventure

At the end of the last adventure, you were asked to choose whether or not you'd tell your new friend if you had more-than-friends feelings for him or her.
Now, we're going to switch the point of view.
Now, suppose you're the one who gets the "I need to tell you something" phone call. Because the plot becomes much simpler if you reciprocate the feelings, assume instead, for the purposes of this adventure, that you do not. What do you do? How do you react?

Choose your adventure:

Close the book and sell it on Craigslist, or leave it on a park bench, or hide it in the bottom of the bottom drawer of your desk if - for whatever reason - you choose to end the friendship in the wake of this new development.
OR
Stay on this page to try to work it out.

The problem, as I see it, is that unfortunately, the next page is blank. There are no instructions for this situation, which is probably what makes it so terrifying, so much like being accused of witchcraft in coastal Virginia in the 16-1700's. What are we to do? I only wish I had an answer.

Here's where I admit that I've tricked you with this line of reasoning. Enter the deus ex machina, Grace Sherwood, the so-called Witch of Pungo. She got thrown in the Lynnhaven River, managed to swim and survive, and was consequently imprisoned for a few years, then was released to live to the age of 80, which was quite old indeed in the early 18th century. When thrust into a situation that can only end in death or condemnation, she was given a third option: temporary imprisonment, then the ability to just go on with her life.

For the record, I've been on both sides of this situation and experienced a myriad of results. I have made that phone call. I've dealt with having to tell my friend I wanted more, knowing that I could be killing a friendship that was very important to me. I've answered the phone, the door, and opened my email to find confessions from friends. Only one of those situations resulted in the end of a friendship, and that was the time a guy I'd once been good friends with, but drifted apart from showed up at my front door, told me he was in love with me (which astonished me since we hadn't spoken in over a year), and then ran away before I could even open my mouth to respond.

In spite of this track record, every time the situation arises anew, I experience discomfort on a scale from minor anxiety to petrifying, stupifying paranoia. When I'm the one faced with deciding whether to make that call, it's like I forget that the object of my friendship and affection is an adult, and one I respect and admire for all kinds of reasons. I forget that he is kind and intelligent and cares for my well-being (otherwise, why would I be interested in him?). For reasons I may never understand (perhaps, just part of the human condition?), the Grace Sherwood option never occurs to me. I become convinced that doing anything to expose my secret will only result in one of the two less-than-desirable outcomes mentioned above.

I forget that once in a witch trial, and once in my own life, the punishment was harsh, but ultimately short-lived and surviveable. Maybe it's because for all of my experience with this type of issue, not one of these encounters resulted in a romance. The best-case-scenario has always been the friendship eventually going back to normal once the injured party has finished licking his (or my own) wounds.

Maybe what it all comes down to is simple fear of rejection, coupled with the desire to do the Right Thing and having no idea what that is. There is the other person to consider, after all. Is it more fair to spare him the burden of my feelings, or to give him all of the facts? Is it wrong to keep him in the dark, or is it a courtesy?

At any rate, I've decided that Grace Sherwood is my new role-model, in her capacity as a legend, anyway. I have no idea who she was, what things she liked, or if she was ever in love. I do know that life once dealt her a crap hand, and that whatever else she did, she survived.