"He's hot and you hang out all the time," they'd say. But mixing friends with sex seemed like the road to ruin to me, in which a solid friendship is sacrificed for a night of questionable and potentially awkward passion. He looked at me with his round brown eyes, smiled, and asked, "Do you think we should make out? I was so engaged in the sex that I was able to turn off any thoughts of what it might mean.
Then another joins them, and another, and another, forming an ominous chain at the altar.
I'd been there before: sometimes with boyfriends, sometimes with large groups. For our first dinner, he grilled fish and made a kale salad; afterward, Mat and I debated Drake lyrics and gossiped about old friends, then went to our separate bedrooms. "Are you suggesting this because you feel sorry for me? Mat had heard me complain plenty about my long, arduous dry spell—two years and counting. The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find him making breakfast for his mother and me.
Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard a knock at my door. I didn't say a word, saving that for an "OMG, just had amazing sex with Mat" text to my best friend, who responded, "Drinks as soon as you're back." I felt smug and a little excited about our secret with his mother there.
A bride is walking down the aisle toward her beloved on their wedding day.
Stained glass, string quartet: Everything is perfect.