So I destroy the friendship. I stop talking to her for a while. Meaning to show her how much I mean to her, I hurt her so badly that she resolves not to let anyone that close to her again so they can't hurt her like that.

Now she believes that I was only the amazingly cool individual that seemed so perfectly matched for her because I remembered what she told me she wanted in a guy and became that. She doesn't trust me any more. Most used word in this conversation is "ulterior motives."

On my end, I resolve not to ever ever ever tell a friend I like her. This is advice I received during freshman year from a wise senior theater girl. We were on Freshman Retreat. I haven't broken it since. And so begins what we "laughing past the graveyard"-like time called "The Cold War" between us. We stay cordial. We try to talk like we used to. But we're never the same. Ever.

Now I'm the one calling most of the time. My emails turn into: "I'm sorry I missed you last night... just wanted to say hi." Lots of those emails. In a row. I buy her a Christmas present: it's the play "Love Letters" by A.R. Gurney. I write in the cover that she really taught me about love. She responds, "Why did you get this for me?"

The answer being, of course, that I still love her.

She starts dating a guy named Dave. They come close to breaking up. I give good advice. She stays with him, based on it and they're still dating today. (You're welcome, Dave.) I start dating Alyson about 2 weeks later so we always having a month-versary every two weeks. I try to show her that I'm having a good time without her. I admitted to her recently that I'd have given up several pints of blood to have dated her, even then. Not that I wasn't happy with Alyson (I'm not a jerk).