Ever meet someone and instantly feel as if you’ve always known them? Make an instant connection, like you knew each other before this life? I’ve been fortunate to meet at least two men like that. I married one of them — Mike. The other is my friend Robert.

After my dad retired from the Air Force, we settled in a small town in southern Oregon. Myrtle Creek is so small, it didn’t even have a stop light. Everyone knew everyone else, and half of them were related to each other. I felt very much the outsider when I began junior high that fall. Somehow I met Robert. Still not sure how that came about because we didn’t have any classes together or even the same lunch period until the second half of eighth grade. But we did get acquainted, and I clearly recall considering him my best friend even in seventh grade. Just friends, mind you, despite what his girlfriend believed. Donna wanted me to meet her behind the gym after school. (Talked my way out of it.)

Our friendship continued through high school and beyond. We were both involved in journalism and drama, and comfortable enough to have rows and slam doors in the other’s face but everything was always fine again. Want to go to a movie but don’t have a date? No problem. Lock your keys in your car at work, and don’t realize it until the end of shift at 11 pm? He drove 20 miles each way to bring me the spare set. We even talked of getting an apartment together after high school since neither of us made enough to live alone.

Our math teacher Mr. O’Neil gave a test every Friday, and of course there was no talking allowed. But talking was not allowed even after all the tests were turned in. Since this class was the all-important period right before lunch and it was essential we confirm our plans, Robert and I would pass notes. After all the tests were turned in, of course.

Once our paperwork inadvertently caught Mr. O’Neil’s attention, the following week he reminded us no talking and no passing notes, either. He also made us change seats so we were on opposite sides of the room.

No problem. A deaf family had recently moved in to the area and a volunteer was teaching sign language classes at night, which Robert and I were both taking. (You know where this is going…) The next week, Mr. O’Neil admonished no talking, no passing notes… and no signing.

Killjoy.

Robert and I walked together at junior high graduation, when we were both the same height. We went to the senior prom together, because he’d broken up with Donna again and the guy I liked had moved out of state. We walked together at high school graduation when we were, well, no longer the same height. Let’s just say we were called Mutt & Jeff more than once. My mom teased that this was the last time he could walk me down an aisle with no permanent repercussions. Almost everyone believed we were a romantic couple, no matter how much we insisted we were just friends. It was a big shock for Mom when I told her I was marrying Mike. I love Robert dearly, but it’s always been more of a sibling vibe than a soul mate vibe. She didn’t really understand until we were in our 20′s and Robert confided that his romantic partner was another man. He has a photo of us in our cap and gowns hanging on a wall of the home he shares with his partner. (Oh, and we’re both still in touch with Donna.)

Though living far apart, we’ve stayed in contact over the years through phone calls and exchanging deep, meaningful e-mails. Here’s one he sent me:

(In case you can’t read it, the text on the pencil is “Microsoft Word For Blondes v1.0″.)
Last weekend when I went up to Seattle for the Emerald City conference, we had the chance to say hello in person for the first time in, oh, about 18 years. He has a bit of grey at the temples and goatee now (I don’t remember growing older – when did he? ), but in this almost-middle-aged responsible adult, there were still glimpses of the teen boy who used to play Monopoly on the sidewalk outside Circle K at three in the morning when my mom was working graveyard, or giggle in the back row of the theater during Dollar Night screenings of Airplane. We solemnly promised it wouldn’t be another 18 years.

Btw, at dinner the first night of conference one of the gals from Portland asked if my, um, husband had come to the conference because, um, she saw me in the hotel lobby with a, um, guy.

Have you been fortunate to have a Robert in your life?