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Sometimes, There's A Feeling

Sometimes, there's a feeling that catches you off guard when you'd never expect it. That happened to me tonight. I had had dinner with some friends and was driving home alone past a neighborhood not far from where an old girlfriend had lived. I felt a sweet sadness. I was instantly in the past.

When I first became friends with Gail, I had never believed that a friendship between a man and a woman could develop into a romantic relationship. I had nothing to back me up in this belief except the fact that it had never happened to me. I never expected it to until...

We were unlikely candidates for a lasting, loving relationship. For six months, the thought never even crossed our minds. We were friends-good friends-and happy that way; for all either one of us knew, we were totally unattracted to each other physically. So why ruin a good thing even thinking about the possibility?

Of course, other people knew about our friendship and flat-out told me I should be looking at Gail as more than a friend. "Some of the best relationships I've ever known started out as friendships," I was told again and again. I "yes-but-ed" my way through these conversations for six months, emphasizing my lack of attraction to Gail and how good our friendship felt just the way it was, but others seemed to think they knew better. I was sure they were wrong.

We used to meet at the movies on Sundays. We had such a good time, laughing and joking and talking about the movies, the news, politics and everything else we could think of. Then, we'd go back to our separate homes in our separate cars, just feeling good about the afternoon we'd spent together. There were no complications; the friendship was just what it was.

We both had problems, fairly serious ones. Gail was depressive and suffered from anorexia nervosa. I was quite often depressed. When we met, it was pretty clear from the start that we both had our own set of problems to deal with. Maybe that's another reason why the thought of falling in love had never reared its head.

So, we became friends, just friends. We knew each other's handicaps but looked beyond them, even laughed about them. And weren't we entitled to some good times? If going to the movies every Sunday felt good and didn't harm anyone, what was wrong with it? And who the hell else was there to judge us? We were adults-she, 41, and I, 55. A bit of an age difference, but we got along fine. We were, after all, just friends.

Because of her eating disorder,

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