The Single Life
August, 2000
It began as woman trouble often does: a midnight phone call followed by a knock at the front door. Kate had been my best female friend for almost eight years, and we had seen each other through tortured affairs, career realignments and broken leases. We had shared everything except each other. Having long ago acknowledged a sexual undercurrent--and excluding a multimartini-inspired make-out session on New Year's Eve 1993--we proudly had chosen not to act on it. Knock-knock.Kate went on to tell m...
