Esteven,

I’ll never forget New Student Week at Earlham in September 1976 when I met you. Your all-male hall and my all-female hall were paired for games and activities. The first week, I spent a lot of time with your hallmate Dave, until he happened to mention that he was engaged to Norma Jean back home in Chagrin Falls. A few weeks later, I began dating your roommate Alan. You thought I was a bit wild; I thought you were nice. During a visit to my home, Alan went running with my sister Sylvia and me. She effused about how neat it would be to have another serious runner in the family. When Alan broke up with me in early January, you took me out for pizza and consolation. You were still serious about your Puerto Rican girlfriend Cheryl back home in Miami FL so you didn’t think about dating me. By the time you found out she was seeing someone else (about halfway through our sophomore year), I was looking forward to marrying your volleyball teammate Stan and didn’t think about dating you. It took us almost four years of friendship to realize we were meant for each other. Despite uncertainty and heartache, I finally gave myself permission to hold out for someone who made me happy 100% of the time instead of 90% of the time. I let a good man, Esteban, whom I still love for his sensitivity, poetic soul, and spiritual insight, go. Since March of 1980, Esteven, you’ve been my beloved and my friend, my best friend, my soul mate. Twenty-eight years later, I love you more today than yesterday.

A few days ago, you created your own blog (The Bionic Man) here on Open Salon. I came home from errands and you showed me your banner and avatar, your bio, and your first two posts. You asked how to friend me. I directed you to my blog, pointed to the words “Add as Friend,” and watched you click the link. When the choices came up, I put my finger next to “Family” and said, “Click here.” You dropped the mouse down to the last choice and clicked “Best Friend” instead. I stopped breathing. My heart beat double time. I thought about how you don’t choose your family; you do your best to love them. Even though you choose your spouse, sometimes once you’re married, people feel locked in—it takes legal action and a lot of trauma to end a marriage. Your best friend, though, is someone you choose to be with because you enjoy their company not because you have a family or legal obligation. After all these years, you still take my breath away. I would so much rather be your best friend than your family. I just edited our relationship.

All my love,

Your girl,

Maria

Here’s a song dedicated to you, Steve, my “best friend with benefits,” that our son James just played for me as I drove him back to Earlham after a fabulous Thanksgiving break. James is now 19, the same age as you and I in the photo above. More than anything, I hope that our boys James and Andrew can find someone they love the way you & I love each other.

Alanis Morissette "Head Over Feet"