I first met Sean when we were working together for Kinko's about ten years ago. At first, our friendship was an outgrowth of being "in the trenches" of customer service together. Over time, I discovered we shared an affinity for going to movies and good conversation. Eventually, I moved on professionally to another organization, and I needed someone with his skill set to help on a technical project. Though we never dated romantically, we went to lunch together just about every day. We flourished professionally, too, regularly joking that we "shared a brain." In all the time we spent together, we never seemed to tire of each other’s company. Then, on a day that we’re now calling "Dramatic Friday," he came to my house and basically broke up with me. He set very clear boundaries to redefine the relationship. No more lunches every day, no being alone in the office after hours, no calling each other. Just coworkers. Then he summed it all up by saying that what we had was unique and special—that we were "amazing together." He walked to the door, threw the words "I love you very much" over his shoulder, and slammed the door behind him. I could hear the romance novelist narrating in the background, "She stood there mute. Unable to say what he wanted to hear. Stricken that he would abandon her after everything they had been to each other."
Three long weeks later, I realized that Sean had made the first decision without me that I could remember, and I didn’t think that was fair. So I told him so, and asked if we could set aside some outside of work time to discuss it. So we met on the Southside and went back to his apartment for dessert. He read me poetry. The rest, as they say, is history.
Carolyn Walsh