Confessions of a Platonic Best Pal

He extolled his university; I ended up applying. He learned I had been accepted before I did. When I started in the fall, we carpooled to classes. Driving home late at night, we'd stop at a Denny's or the local all-night deli and wax philosophic for hours. We dissected movies, analyzed narrative styles and deconstructed all of life as if it were a film script.

Three years later, by the time I had earned my master's (whereas Daniel had dropped out for an actual writing career), we were close friends. What really cemented our relationship was Daniel's work schedule: He rose at noon, wrote all night and went to bed around 6AM. Any time I couldn't sleep or had a bad dream, it was never too late to call Daniel. He was comforting, funny and smart. The only downside was that I spent too much time talking and not enough sleeping.

For some reason, despite being a great catch (and I'm not saying that just because I know he'll be reading this), Daniel had never inspired any romantic feelings in me. He was more like a brother—more so than my real brother, in fact.