Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Baying at the new moon

We took pages and pages of notes on relationships.

Tonight I heard a cry for help.

It came from a pizza parlor 20 minutes away.

I had snuggled in for the night with my cats and my laptop, fully resolved to increase my daily word count.

And then a friend called with a problem.

Actually it wasn’t really his problem. He was counseling his best friend, whose wife had just confessed she had strayed with another man.

I knew his advice would be solid. But there’s no substitute for a woman’s touch.

I hit the road, and once I got there, it wasn’t long before the elephant in the room was on the table. The friend shared the details. We communed. We talked about the past. The mistakes, the regrets. Miniscule and significant. The range of events that led to this catastrophic confession.

He talked and I took notes, drew pictures, made charts that mapped out the breakdown of a love affair. This event was the crash, but the derailment and communication breakdown had happened long ago.

In the end, friendship superseded heartbreak, and good times were had by all.

Now that’s true romance.

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