Would he have kissed me?

The context is this (if it's not going to help you, skip it). I am female and single; in my thirties, and a still virgin as a result of many choices I have made which I do not regret. To this day, the last time I was kissed was in 2019, and it was an old elementary school classmate drunkenly forcing himself on me after admitting that I'd been his childhood crush of 20 years, and I felt sorry for him and offered him a hug, and he asked for a kiss and took it anyway, after I'd said no. It was squirmy and not very pleasant or exciting, and reminded me very slightly of when as a child I used to tolerate my dear old grandmother kissing me goodbye on the lips (God rest her soul). In short, it was like a wet fish, and unlike my grandmother, the guy wasn't kind enough to keep it short and sweet. Back in 2019, I was so touch-starved and low in self-esteem that part of me appreciated the raw intimacy of it anyway, despite the feeling of being violated. In 2022, I am in a better place and have more platonic intimacies in my life, and a greater sense of dignity. I never saw that guy again after that, and he has nothing to do with my present concern. As I say, that story is just for context.

The guy I'm going to talk about, I have never kissed (as I've said, my last kiss was three years ago, and it wasn't all that nice). I don't know him very well - we were on an inter-church holiday week last week and I had only known him superficially before, as a friend-of-a-friend. I had no idea if he was single. I just knew he was divorced, and that my friend who had introduced him to me used to like him and was possibly still fighting her feelings for him.

The TL;DR 'short read' is as follows. I was in the church and the service had just ended. People were still singing, and I happened to be in tears. The guy friend comforted me as I cried, and it seemed ambiguous to me, but I still don't know if anything would have happened had I not turned my head away and to the side as he hugged me. I was crying because the service had prompted me to reflect existentially on my situation in life in a way that lays the unpleasant truths bare with the pleasant ones. It happens sometimes in church, and it isn't necessarily a bad thing to get a reality check, but it can sting. I cried and cried. I was very glad of the embrace, and I wanted it to go further, but I didn't know if he was single, didn't want to hurt my friend who'd introduced him to me or make it awkward, and knew that we were just riding the wave of our immediate emotions and not really thinking, and that that sort of thing tends to leave me with an emotional hangover that is orders of magnitude more intense and longer-lasting than the initial satisfaction had been. Plus, the people sitting around us in the church already didn't look delighted to see us embracing even in the way we were. PDA is not what people go to church services to see.

In more detail, the whole thing happened like this. A female friend saw me sobbing
and encouraged me to go home to bed and rest, and I started towards the door the church. Then I passed the male friend, and he hugged me - first a side-hug, then he reached his other arm round. As he did so my head tipped up towards him and he looked down at me and smiled gently for a moment. An unspoken warmth had been building up over that whole week-long holiday, at least in me, for him, if not between the two of us reciprocally. The fact that he had kept seeking me out in crowds was not lost on me. We had an affinity to each other through the music and a vocabulary of touch and gesture with which we greeted each other, because we are both touchy-feely types, and English isn't his native language. It was platonic albeit charged with complicity and warmth. But that night, when our gaze met in the embrace, it was both the same and different. My mind reeled and I suddenly felt a familiarly heavy, aching thirst in my groin. Uh-oh... well, at least that part of the equipment still works. Perhaps this would have been the moment at which, had I been male, I would have 'got a boner'. I wondered for a second or two whether he had one and went to look, but then thought 'No, let's not spoil or degrade this by making it about using his body to scratch my 'itch' against: I can do that myself cleanly, privately and easily enough'. I was almost certain that a kiss was going to happen, and although part of me really desired it, I decided not to try to find out. Reluctantly, I turned my face away instead and nestled into the hug. He sang to me softly as he hugged me, and stroked my hair. I broke the hug off sooner than I had wanted to. It was gruelling, but I didn't want to hurt my female friend who had introduced the two of us and was trying to get over him, or make things complicated for the next time I'd see the guy - even if it should be in a year or more. And I didn't want to leave that holiday longing for him in the night, every night, and inevitably not being able to have him.

The urge to relive and extend that moment in my mind still keeps coming back though, and I usually give in to it. At least I stopped the embrace in real life before things had a chance to go south. Would it have turned into a kiss though if I hadn't looked away? I should have loved to nestle in his arms in that church all night, and fall asleep there.