I was 11 in 1986 when I first heard former soap opera star Gloria Loring sing "Friends and Lovers," a hit duet with Carl Anderson on the NBC daytime serial Days of Our Lives.
According to the lyrics, two people who have a platonic friendship can evolve into lovers -- "we don't have to be one or the other," they insisted. Without being mature enough to completely understand the message woven through the ballad, the basic tenets of the song seemed clear: friendships can wind up becoming something much deeper with little or no risk to the foundation of the relationship. I bought into it as easily as I did that a character who was an amnesiac known as "The Pawn" was unrecognizable to everyone in the fictional town of Salem after facial reconstruction surgery.
With the wisdom of 29 additional years and my experience with Phillip, I learned what a crock of shit Ms. Loring and Mr. Anderson (may he rest in peace) were serving up in the form of a schmaltzy pop ballad.
I first met Phillip, a Hollywood talent agent, at the birthday party of a mutual friend. At the time, I was four years in to a five-year relationship with my then-partner, Gavin, and, as romantically unhappy as I was, I didn't see Phillip as anything more than a funny, gregarious guy with a jovially round face and a warm manner. He was the type of "character" that my ex liked to socialize with, not to mention a living, breathing networking opportunity who could potentially further the film production career that Gavin -- like just about every other person living in Los Angeles -- came to town to pursue.
As a couple, Gavin and I developed and maintained a casual friendship with Phillip -- until our break-up. Human assets were divided, and I inherited Phillip, a friend I now enjoyed a meal with every four or five months. Then, he revealed that he found me attractive on a more personal level.
Phillip was not someone I would have considered as a dating option. He was overly showy about his professional success -- a high-rise apartment on Sunset Boulevard, a Maserati and an office so ostentatious that Alexis Carrington would have requested a downgrade -- and his body shape was not physically appealing to me. As someone who struggled with my own weight my entire life, I was always understanding of other body types, but Phillip simply didn't cause a stir in my pants or my heart.
When Phillip asked me out on a date -- to the see-and-be-seen landmark The Ivy on Robertson Boulevard, natch, I accepted his invitation. I wanted to remain open to the idea that his personality could win me over. Having kissed a lot of frogs, I found myself thinking that I could make myself have feelings for him. It wasn't about lowering my standards; it was about being more of an adult and recognizing that initial chemistry wasn't everything. And, it didn't exactly hurt my ego to know that he was so enamored with me.
Hopeful, I purchased two of my favorite books, both of them signed by the author, and wrapped them ornately, giving them to Phillip as a gift upon my arrival at the restaurant. He opened them immediately, looking at them as though I'd given him an ashtray full of cigarette butts.
"Oh, do you already have those?" I asked, disappointed that he had discovered Cheryl Strayed's Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things before I could introduce him to her genius.
"No," he said. "I don't really read."
"Not at all?" I asked "Not even popular fiction?"
"The last book I read may have been in college," he answered. "I just don't care that much about it."
Wow. He couldn't even disguise his disappointment in a gift that was so meaningfully selected.
Moving past that shaky start, the rest of the evening was pleasant enough, and Phillip began sending lavish presents -- six-dozen roses, a cake from my favorite bakery -- to demonstrate his romantic interest. In fact, within only a few months, he told me he loved me -- just after we fooled around very briefly following a movie. His style wasn't smooth; in fact, he would suddenly grab me inappropriately in public in an effort to show his affection and attraction to me. I would recoil and ask him to be more thoughtful and tender with his advances. He couldn't grasp that idea as easily as he could my crotch.
He asked me to spend a weekend with him in Wyoming, which I agreed to, hoping that being away and in new surroundings might advance my appreciation for him. In addition, I thought he might realize that his behavior was more important than the material things he was showering upon me. Neither happened, and the small amount of sexual activity that took place set off no fireworks; not a single spark or the expectation that one would ever develop. At 40, it had sunken in that there is no Mr. Perfect and that there'd come a point at which I'd settle for Mr. Good Enough. Phillip's physical attributes and his cultural and social deficiencies kept him outside of even that category.
Upon our return to Los Angeles, I let Phillip know that I valued our friendship and that I would like to continue to have him in my life -- but that a love affair was not in the cards. I gave the possibility every chance (I really had), even when my heart screamed louder than my logic.
The real tragedy came, though, when we would spend time together following the relationship verdict. Phillip, understandably, felt rejected, and he treated me with anger, hostility and simmering resentment on many occasions. He would shut down during personal conversations -- brief answers to simple life questions would generate only an "OK" or "I'm fine" -- and that spare communication style was one of the very reasons I wasn't attracted to him as a partner. In addition, he would ignore life milestones that called for acknowledgement and didn't care that I was hurt when he showed seemingly no interest in my well-being. It was time for what was left of the friendship, such as it was, to end.
So, Gloria Loring, in my experience, we do have to be one or the other. We had crossed a line from which there was no turning back. I knew that while I had developed an affinity for Phillip, I was never going to be able to show up as a lover. But, after years with another man who was far from compatible and many other disastrous dates following, I decided to see if a romantic love could grow for someone who didn't seem a likely candidate at the outset. In the end, Phillip couldn't come to terms with the situation, and I couldn't stay in the pathway of the poor treatment that was the result of his internal hurt.
I lost a friend, but I haven't lost hope. I wake up every morning, wondering if this will be the day I meet the man of my realistic, 40 year-old dreams -- someone who hasn't been in my life in another capacity; a man with whom a history will begin... now.