I wrote the following piece in March or April 2000. It's about a boy I didn't date, whose name is not really Eric. We went out a few times, but he had just met someone else and that was turning into something more serious than he'd originally thought, so things between us went nowhere. We're still friends, at least the kind of friends who email once a year. It's one of the few dating situations of my life that I look back at and feel completely good about. In any case, I think it helps explain some of my feelings about my current situation.

He turned to me, and his face showed me how sorry he was for what he was about to say. Behind the dark sunglasses, his green eyes told me everything I needed to know. I knew what was coming as well as he did, but somehow I wasn't sad. This was Eric, the first boy to ever truly know me as I really am right from the moment we met. He was amazing, incredible. I'd never met someone so brutally honest, so open with his feelings. No one had ever accepted me so readily. I didn't feel the need to embellish or exaggerate stories to impress Eric. Somehow he was impressed just by me and the things I actually did and said and accomplished. He cared about what I had to say and valued my opinions. And he remembered everything I said and wrote. No one ever really read my writing or wanted to, but Eric did. He read it, absorbed it and recalled every nuance. He went to great lengths to find out everything about me, and he wasn't ashamed to tell me that he did.

I think mostly I was intrigued by this boy. I don't think I'd ever met someone so similar to me. And yet I couldn't really pinpoint what it was that we had in common. I mean we were both intelligent and open-minded and probably shared a million other characteristics, but it was something that went much deeper than that. I could never shake this deep-down feeling that we shared some essential nature. Talking to Eric was like talking to myself. There's something really comforting about that. And yet talking to him wasn't like talking to anyone else ever was. He made me feel intelligent, And he challenged me to think beyond my normal, self-imposed limits. Somehow he had this way- and I'm not even sure he was aware- of making me realize that I could answer those tough questions without the normal bullshit of academia that was my typical protective shield. I had all the knowledge and analytical reasoning skills I needed to be an intellectual, but it took Eric to show me that. Somehow conversations with him never seemed to be over. They flowed so effortlessly from one thing to the next. And I'd walk away with more questions that I started with. I didn't know any of the mundane details of this boy's life, but I could tell you how he celebrated his 21st birthday in South Africa, or what it was like to sell fruit on the side of the road during a DC summer, or what it was like to see someone shot during a bank holdup in San Francisco. And I wanted to know everything about him- what position he played in baseball and what he liked to read and what his favorite classes had been and what kind of music he listened to and when he was moving and what languages he spoke. And yet there was never time to ask all the questions I had because the conversations just never ended. I wanted to talk to this boy forever and never stop. I don't think we would ever run out of things to say to each other. There couldn't be any subject too broad or narrow for us to tackle. And it all became so magically interesting when we talked about it.

In a way Eric scared me. Actually, in a lot of ways. It scared me that there could be someone out there who was so much like me. I'm an individual. I've never wanted to find my double, and yet here he was. My double, or maybe my soul mate. And he scared me because I realized that he was the kind of boy I wanted to marry. I wanted someone so passionately caring that they would read everything I'd written and want to listen to every word I said. Mostly, I wanted someone I could talk to so easily and openly without ever censoring myself or worrying about what I was saying. I wanted someone who would push me to be the best I could be and think the deepest thoughts I had in me. Eric did all that for me. That scared me because I wasn't ready to meet anyone like that. I wasn't ready for commitment and marriage and future. I wanted to live in the now, to have fun, to say 'to hell with consequences.' I was moving in a few months, and I didn't want ties. And I knew that regardless of what Eric was about to tell me, nothing between the two of us could last because of me. And how can you have a short-term fling with your soul mate? Or one of your soul mates, since I've never bought into the whole 'one perfect person for everyone' thing. And it all scared me because I didn't know if I'd find that that type of person when I was ready for that kind of thing someday. And I knew now that I could never settle for anything less. It's like tasting fine wine and knowing you can never go back to the cheap boxed stuff you drank at frat parties. It scared me, but not too much. I knew it was better to learn to be discerning. And I'd be happier someday for it. Lonelier, perhaps, but happier.

And so Eric started to explain. I knew what he was going to say before he started. Not the details, but the end results, which was all that was important to me. For once, I wasn't really interested in Eric's story. Not because it disappointed me so much, but because I knew he wouldn't tell it with his usual flair. It was the one story that he just weren't ready to be completely open and honest and detailed about because he couldn't know how I would react. I have to admit that I didn't pay much attention to the details that he did give. It was unimportant to me why we couldn't date. I knew we didn't belong together- not here, not now. I knew a short-term thing with him just couldn't make me happy. When I'd asked him out, I had no way of knowing how special he'd be. And I knew this was the one sure way to avoid having my heart broken yet again. And in a way Eric had already served his purpose for me, as far as dating was concerned. I'd proven to myself that I could ask a guy out and that I was still attractive and desirable. I'd proven to myself that I could go on a date with someone I didn't know and still have a wonderful time. I'd proven to myself that I didn't have to be looking for something to find it. Or for that matter even wanting something to find it. I'd proven to myself that there were still things worth finding and people worth meeting. Eric had done more for my dating life without actually dating me than most guys did after months of dating. So it didn't really matter why we couldn't date. I already knew. I just wanted to get back to what I truly loved about being with Eric- being great friends. I'd never had a friend quite like Eric before, and I couldn't wait to start talking to him again!