When When Harry Met Sally came out and posed the question, can a man and a woman truly be friends without sex coming between them, it was the topic of many conversations between me and my bestie. She interrogated me at length on my feelings for my male friends.
I had a close friend at church at that time, Three. He lived in another city, attended another school, and had a girlfriend. I saw him twice a week, sometimes three or more, and we talked on the phone. Our relationship confounded just about everyone, including my father.
Three came over when I was packing to move out. I took a break and we sat out back together, our arms around each other as we talked. That is how we were. We went to my room so he could help me pack and we wound up playing Scrabble instead. I left to get some water for us and my dad was sitting at the kitchen table.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked.
“What do you think we’re doing?” I inquired.
The grin on his face made it clear he thought we were doing something other than playing Scrabble.
There was no kissing. There were no feelings of love beyond friendship. We would sit or stand with an arm around each other or lean into each other and that was it.
If his girlfriend was with us there was no physical contact. There was no awkwardness or jealousy. She was my friend, too. Of course, this resulted in looks from everyone who saw me and Three together regularly and did not understand that we were purely platonic.
He knew me like no other. He read my mood by looking at me. He knew what to say to me and what not to say. I felt safe and secure with him. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he would always be there when I needed him. No one other than Three would have pulled me out of a makeshift dressing room in the middle of a freak out to watch a lightning storm outside to calm me down.
How else do you describe something so natural as the sun chasing the moon across the sky?