The point is, it feels like the time we’ve known and spent with each other could be a lifetime in itself. Sometimes I think about the time when we were together and I am almost surprised that it’s my past. It feels like it happened in a past-life, or in a vivid dream, or in a story I read in a book somewhere.

Everything has changed now. But some things never change.

And therein lies the problem.

Putting aside the question of whether we might still love each other, we certainly care about each other. And when a man cares about a woman, or vice versa, things are no longer cut and dry.
Which begs the question, can men and women truly just be friends? In fact, a better question is, can exes truly just be friends?

I’m going to be honest. Going into Tuesday night, I did harbor the hope that he would reciprocate my feelings. Even if we never talked about it, that there were residual feelings from our relationship was undeniable. But were those feelings something he thought was worth nurturing, worth pursuing?

However, as the night wore on, I started to realize that he was happy with his relationship, that he was committed to it. So when I finally initiated the dreaded conversation about us, I had lost my nerve to ask him to choose between his girlfriend and me. Sure, there was still a chance that he would choose me, despite how things seemed, but I was too afraid of the alternative, too afraid to hear him say, outright, that he would choose her.
So, in cowardice and self-defense, I presented him with the remaining choice: to end our friendship.

I hemmed and hawed for a while, and, as if he knew what was on my mind, he said, “Spit it out.”
I finally did.
“The thing is,” I hemmed and hawed a little more, “Well, the thing is, when you were in the Philippines, I missed you. And, I realized that was weird because, well, I don’t miss my friends. I mean, sure I miss them when they come back and we hang out and it’s like ‘Wow I missed hanging out with you,’ but I don’t miss them while they’re gone, you know?”
He nodded. He knew. “I guess I could see how you would feel that way, from your perspective. But my perspective is different, since I have a girlfriend; I just see you as a really close friend.”
His comment took me by surprise. Was that a jab? I didn’t have time to figure it out, my brain was trying to sort out my next sentence into some semblance of coherence.
“I guess, what I’m trying to say is… I don’t think we should be friends.”
Both of us remained silent as the words sunk in. I took a sip of tea and realized my hand was shaking. I grabbed one hand with the other as I set the tea cup down.

“It’s just that sometimes when we hang out, it almost feels like we’re dating, you know? I mean, maybe this is why exes can’t be friends, because if we have such a good relationship with each other, why did we break up in the first place? Friendships are a type of relationship too. And for us, our friendship is skewed on the gradient between friendship and relationship.”
“I guess that’s true,” he said slowly. “But how would that even work? How can we not be friends?” He was referring to our posse of mutual friends.
“Well, I’m not saying we can’t ever see each other. But I just don’t think we should be… close friends.”

Silence.

“It’s not that I regret being friends with you. But,” I paused, “It’s just too hard.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, hearing this for the first time, “for making things harder for you.”

Silence.

“I told you not to be too nice to me,” I said, referring to a joke I’d made two years ago, when I’d said, ‘Don’t be too nice to me or else I might regret giving you up.’
“I can’t help it!”
“I know. It’s just… I feel like there’s something tying me to you, and as long as you’re in my life, I will always be tied to you.”
“So I guess I’m the problem. And your suggestion is to take me out of the picture, right?”
I nodded slowly.
“Is that really the only thing we can do? Is there no alternative?”
“Well, that’s all I can think of. If you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears.” I was smiling, maybe to hide how horrendously nervous I was.
“I think an alternative would be if you had someone to replace me.”
He was referring to me getting a boyfriend. “Easier said than done,” I said, trying to keep my tone lighthearted. “Think about what they’re up against, a perfect stranger versus seven years of knowing each other.”
“That’s true,” he agreed reluctantly.

Silence.

“For how long?” He finally asked.
“Maybe three or four years? I don’t know…”
“Or until you find someone to replace me,” he added.
Was that another jab? “Maybe…”

And that was that. He drove me home that night, and all the way home, we talked as if we hadn’t just had an awkward and painful conversation that decidedly ended a seven-year relationship.

That night, I flipped and turned and couldn’t sleep well at all. Despite having been away from him all summer, it suddenly seemed like I was in danger of not surviving even twenty-four hours without him.

But I did survive, and am still surviving. I am more grateful now than ever for being kept so busy at work. And luckily, I have always been able to move on really quickly, at least on the surface. I can’t stand dwelling on things I can’t change, or thoughts that lead me nowhere, so for the time being, I am a perfectly functional human being.

Even if it does feel like I have just disowned a sibling or amputated an arm.

[Author's note: I tried to recreate the conversation exactly as it was, but, to be honest, I was so nervous that the whole conversation was kind of a blur. I remember snippets of the conversation without remembering their chronological order. So, I hope everything makes sense.]

1. Sex and the City.
2. Friends.
3. Alias.