Confessions of a Platonic Best Pal
From friends, to "more than friends," to more than "just friends"
But life moves on, and boy and girl break up. And though we were definitely non-platonic for two years, it didn't work out. For complex reasons and no reason at all, we lacked chemistry. As much as we wanted to be The Perfect Couple, we couldn't force it. We even went to a couples counselor and said, "We don't know whether to break up or get married."
The answer became obvious. In another century, we might have married and had a nice life together. But at the end of the 20th, marriage began with falling in love. Others have parsed the difference between "loving" and "being in love." Let's just say we weren't in love.
Our mothers took our romantic breakup harder than we did. And we were frustrated, because we know movies: All male/female friendships blossom into love in the final reel. If the guy doesn't get the girl, then we feel dissatisfied. But this wasn't a movie; this was our life. We weren't meant to be lovers. We were much better off as friends.
The years went by. Everyone said we'd drift apart, but we didn't. I landed in the hospital with your basic life-threatening illness, and Daniel visited every single day, entertaining me in intensive care with crazy tales of his romantic misadventures. When doctors met with my parents to discuss my condition, Daniel was there, while my then-boyfriend was not. Only Daniel could see me with a broken body and a feeding tube up my nose and still make me feel cherished.
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