The REAL Story of Harry and Sally

I have this friend. In college, he was a good friend, a best friend even. We talked about stuff. Important stuff. Less important stuff. We drank coffee and we drank SoCo. And, yea, there was always a lot of sexual tension. But whatever. In a way, I loved him. Not "loved him loved him," but it probably was love.

And then, one day, we had sex.

And then we didn't talk for a really long time.

And then we started talking again, but only because we pretended that we'd never had sex.

And then we had sex again.

And then, we stopped talking. Not actually. I mean, I still hear from him. We chat occasionally and text often. But we've stopped really talking. Every time I try to have a conversation, it devolves into stories about underwear. Or the lack of underwear. And his efforts to get girls into or out of underwear.

I miss my friend. I miss pointless debates and insightful remarks. I miss having a deep relationship that didn't take a lot of work because we just sort of got each other.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I got to experience some of the world by his side. But I don't know that I ever really wanted to trade a friend for a lover. And now that he's not really either, I'm not sure where that leaves me.

And that makes me sad.