grecita Wayne Grecita: I thought love, romantic love, was so unattainable. I tried hard to connect with women, but it never seemed to work, as if I could be a good friend but not a lover. I used to dream of winning someone and devoting myself to her. I wanted to treat her, to do so many small things: walking amongst the trees, laughing over silly movies, holding hands, enjoying dinners, having conversations, playing romantic music. . . . Over time I slowly forgot my dream, until I thought I had lost all ability to be romantic. (After a certain age, one even doubts that he is attractive any more.) Somehow I never could connect: everyone looked good to me; everyone else looked better. How is it that you appeared? I thought you were disinterested, just a good friend--another nice person being nice to me. I had to bury my heart for four years, and I thought the feelings were gone. But after a simple coffee, you recaptured my imagination, stealing my waking moments. (How did you do that?) And now all the times we spent together--the walks, the movies, the laughs, the visits with Yam Head, the Christmas parties; my struggles, your acceptance, my buried hope--they seem so significant. Don't good friends only become lovers in fairy tales? Thank you for all that you have been. Thank you for our memories. Thank you for awakening my heart. 010105 what's it to you? who go blather from