I regret only that those three little words never passed between us to cement the tie I know we both felt.  The phrase 'love at first sight' springs to mind, actually.  A lifetime of 'what ifs' and wondering, kids, marriages, brief but intense ["I'm flying through your city with a two hour layover, can you meet me at the airport?"] reconnections has passed. Even during the times when we were not actually 'dating', I still referred to him as my best friend.  He was the one I would call when life got me down. Distance, time, and circumstances have not severed this bond. It has evolved into a sporadic and cyber oriented entity, but still it persists.  Even now we admit the occasional phone call still conjures chill bumps and inner spasms (call them butterflies to euphemise them) that nobody else has ever been able to produce.  The very thought of actually seeing each other again is almost frightening. Implosion comes to mind.  We seem to speak in code, each fully understanding what the other is trying not to say.  Conversations can be five minutes or an hour long, and the afterglow puts a smile on my face that couldn't be smacked off with a shovel. 

 Something about unconditional acceptance and lots of emotional innuendos has created that rare sort of utopian relationship that makes me ache.  Why do we both have to be married to other people? Knowing how absolutely amazing and durable our connection has been leads me down paths of fantasy that I cannot, or will not, escape.  I remember none of my dreams unless they are of him.  During those semi-hypomanic times I remember us and cannot hold back the tears.  Something wonderful in my life happens (occasionally); he's the first one I want to tell.  I want so much to replicate what  he and I have in my marriage that it hurts.  I'm almost positive this is impossible.  They are diametric opposites, these two men.

   Needing to believe the fantasy is something I'm afraid I'm stuck with; it's like a special place I can retreat to when my real world inflicts its painful self upon me.  Letting go of it is not an option right now, nor in the forseeable future.  I can only hope he knows I still need him after almost thirty years.  And I can only hope that his wife, whom he loves, and my husband, whom I seldom even like, do not learn of this alliance and kill us both.  Sadly, in my heart of hearts, my emotional self has been married to the ideal man, and my physical self has been married to someone else entirely.

  Can I get a do-over?