Mary and Peter.

So this is Mary and Peter. On their wedding day. It was gorgeous. The wedding is the wedding I would want. And am telling myself I will have. Mary and I went to high school together. But she was a rebel and we didn't really hang out then. She had to leave school to take care of her uncle who was dying of AIDS. She and I are both estranged from our dads. Women bond over these things.

After I stopped being a development exec, I knew I needed to write. Wanted to write. And so I moved to New York. Where else does anyone write?... Seriously, that is? I knew two girls. One from college. She was busy. And one from "Blown Away"-- she was an accountant turned dominatrix. Yeah, that made for an interesting reveal. And you know, Easter brunch has never really ever been the same since I held a ball clamp in my hands and tried to figure out how to work it.

That night. In New York. Night 1 in New York, I met the guy I dated through my entire experience living there. He threw an ashtray on the floor to get my attention. I was charmed. Guys have done less. And over time... he did. Less and less and less. But still. It was fun. And surprising and I ran into Mary. And we had a great friendship. We were broke in NYC. Had all the odds against us. We were from LA. We were the enemy. And we didn't care. We went out every night. I worked every day. I loved it.

On my birthday. It snowed. I got lots of calls from my LA friends. They loved the fact that it snowed as much as I did. I even ruined a pair of boots. I didn't care.

Jim (ashtray guy) broke my heart (theme... yes?) but strange coincidences kept happening with us that made us both know we may as well see it out-- and we did-- through 3 years of me in LA and him in NY-- and him and me both with other people in between. Chemistry is chemistry. To make it simple. His best friend moved here for awhile and we were inseparable. Friends, but inseparable. I think I miss him more than Jim.

Needless to say, Mary and I had a blast. When I moved back. We still had a blast. She was always so generous. Always there to share her happiness and good fortune. And to play. That girl liked to play.

And with Peter? She had happiness and good fortune. And then some. He was the guy every girl wants to marry. Truly. There's no other way to put it. He was a girl's guy and a guy's guy. Gorgeous. Generous. Intelligent. Multi-faceted. Funny. Successful. Real. And in love with Mary. All the better. Actually, the best. That was the best wedding I've ever been to. There was no sit down dinner. Instead, there was a black tie cocktail party that rocked. I met great people. I danced. And loved every minute of it. The single girl who didn't have a date. And I loved every minute of it. That's the kind of wedding to have.

Mary threw me my 30th birthday party. In New York. Alva. A cool place. I got dumped that night. It didn't even matter. She made it not matter. I'll never forget leaving Chad's place in SoHo in a see through black slip dress and heels the next morning. Freshly dumped on a bright Sunday morning -- I found myself a Foot Locker and bought some Jack Purcell's to hoof it back to Mary's . If I was a fancier girl, it might have been a fashion statement. But I've always been just me.

Peter died in the World Trade Center. That rocked my world. Of course, it's nothing compared to what happened to Mary. But. Still. Going to that memorial was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced. And I felt the loss. Truly. I still feel the loss. My friends should have love. Forever. We all should have love.

To find love. True love. It's hard in this world. I've never had it. I've loved. I haven't been loved back. My friend found it. By someone pretty amazing. Pretty surreal. And then only a short year later... it was gone. How is that possible?

His memorial was a terrible experience. For oh so many reasons. It was so bad. So bad, I didn't even realize I had food poisoning until I got to La Guardia, got sick, ran into a guy I went on a date with (yes, post-sick and pre-boarding who I had to engage in trivial convo with) and had to call a friend from the air to take me to the hospital. I was wheeled off the airplane in a wheelchair. Waved goodbye to the former date and had my first experience with a new doctor being one where medical instruments were placed in areas I'd rather they weren't. It seemed I had a rare case of food poisoning and as a result, I was hospitalized for two days.

I had just started to date a guy before I left. One of my friends told me not to tell him about the food poisoning. As if that made me flawed. I clearly don't get men because I didn't see why me in the hospital with food poisoning would be a reason to dump me. Expecting me to dress up in different get ups when we had sex? Yes. That was a reason. And I did dump him. And I never dressed up. It wasn't like he was getting all fancy. Why was it my job and my job alone?

My relationship with Mary has never been the same since Peter died. It breaks my heart. I think about her often. I don't know if she can handle having people in her life who knew him and knew him so well. Still, I don't take that back. He was a guy worth knowing. He was a gentleman, a guy and a friend. He was something to aspire to. For women, for men.

I love this picture. I love the belief.