A man-woman friendship that ends in sex, ends well. Well, maybe it doesn’t end well, but the friendship usually ends.

We weren’t ‘allowed’ to have sex. We weren’t ‘available’, so we shared any physical pleasure we could without resorting to sexual intercourse.

Restaurants, snack nights, sun bathing, massages, swimming, running, cycling, windsurfing, wrestling (a lot of wrestling), but mainly:

Alcohol (mostly cocktails with dirty names), food (lots of red fruit and melons) and talk, talk, talk. Talk about anything.

Also a lot of shopping for clothes. Only sort of legitimate way I got to see your breasts.

I never had so much fun with a girl. We’d go outside during the summer, walking arm in arm under a UFO-sized, yellow umbrella. Telling people who were already miles out of our way to step aside. Sneaking into cinema’s by the backdoor, so we wouldn’t have to pay. The money we saved I spent on cherry flavored candy for you.

I swelled with pride when we walked the streets together. You were a pretty hot looking chick. A real hardbody with big steamy eyes, like a libidinous bambi.

When we did have sex- Somewhere near the end of one of our wrestling matches, somewhere under your kitchen table- it didn’t even feel like our first time together. More like the 1000th time in a three year relationship that still has fire in the belly. That my girlfriend was also there made it a bit kinky. It made it ok, we didn’t so much have sex, we had sex, ok, together, with my girlfriend. Sort of.

We wanted to keep the authenticity between us intact. We figured if we started a real relationship we would cheat on each other within the next three to four months. Probably even sooner. So we decided to leave it at that one time.

Back to restaurants and all the rest. It was good for a while. We talked about what happened. A one time event that was bound to happen anyway. We’d be fine. We had gotten it out of the air.

But the ersatz activities didn’t do it any more. So we were doomed anyway. A relationship wasn’t possible. I really wasn’t your type. And though I thought you were very hot looking, sex never really surfaced. But we had eaten the cliche forbidden fruit. And to eat it again was out of the question. Not sober anyway.

‘It’s better to burn out than to fade away’

We didn’t have to have one last conversation. We were that close.

Close enough to both realize at the same time, it was time to cherish the memories and be forever apart. But it was grand, while it lasted. I’m not sure if I should call it friendship, looking back. Friendship would have lasted. More something like a pact to see how far we could go. How far we could stretch the concept man-woman friendship. A threesome seems to be somewhere near the border.