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In watching things play out with her, I keep getting flashes of what it was like seven and a half years ago, the last time I was in her position.

The first date: We'd been talking for a month. It was Memorial Day and on the spur of the moment, I decided to come to St. Louis. I called him and said, "I'll be in your neck of the woods. If you want to get together, great. If not, no biggie."

We spent ten hours together that day.

The first kiss: During that date we were driving through the Central West End. The day was gorgeous - sun shining, warm breeze coming through the car windows. We were sitting at a stoplight at the corner of Lindell and Kingshighway when I turned to B. and said, "So, are you ever going to kiss me?"

His face turned crimson as he smiled and leaned towards me. "You got red lipstick all over me," he laughed as we parted and the light changed.

The first full night together: It was the following weekend at my apartment in Columbia. We had dinner at my favorite winery, overlooking the Missouri River from a bluff at sunset. Soft-shell crabs with lavender-scented creme brulee for dessert. I had a terrible cold, and I also felt like we were moving too fast, so nothing happened that night. We just slept spooned together.

When I knew I was ten off-ramps beyond the point of no return: Sitting in his apartment the day of our first date, freaking out because his brother and his brother's creepy girlfriend had shown up, unannounced, and didn't have the social graces to realize they were interrupting. I was thinking about leaving, just getting up and walking out the door, when I looked at B. and saw the look in his eyes, the look that said, "For the love of God, I am so sorry." And something in my brain said, "Don't leave. You're going to marry this guy."

Was it love at first sight? No. But deep down, I knew there was something different and that my life was going to drastically change.

I had made a rule three months before I met B.: I was going to take a break from dating for six months. I was coming off several years of really bad behavior. Lots of fun, but upon turning 25 I had realized that the good times weren't doing me much good in the long run. I decided I was done, at least for awhile. No dating. No sex. No making out. No nothing.

I spent the first three months of our relationship telling B. that we weren't dating, because that violated my rule.

My friend? She had a similar rule in effect. We talked about the rule last night, and how it seems silly on the surface. But really, I think our silly rules forced both of us to really think about the guys involved, what was at stake, and what we wanted.

I've told these stories about the beginning of our relationship so many times that they roll out of my mouth without their meaning registering in my brain. They're just tales that make up the quilt of my life, things that happened in the past, feelings that have long since morphed into something different. They've manifested in getting dinner on the table, raising our daughter, and making sure the cable bill gets paid. Not exactly the type of stuff that causes that tickle deep in the belly that runs electricity to every finger and toe.

Watching my friend fall makes me miss falling.

I fell in love with B. a second time, in the days after Clara Jane's birth. She was several days old, and I was completely shredded from the experience. Physically, I was destroyed. Emotionally, I had never felt more vulnerable . And I had never felt more protected than I did when B. was taking charge at the hospital.

My memories of the hospital are sketchy, but I will never forget one particular night ... Clara Jane was sleeping, all the visitors were gone, and the nurses were letting me be, for once. I remember crying to B., clinging to him. I had never wanted another human being to be so physically close to me in my life. I promised him at that moment that things would be different when we left the hospital. I was going to be more loving, more giving, more expressive with him. I wasn't going to continue being mired in the banalities of life.

That leaf stayed turned for about 48 hours. Not because I didn't want to do as I'd said, but because life ran over me. We let life run over us.

I don't know what's going to happen with my friend. I don't know if this is just a passing fancy or if this is her B. Hell, part of the time I'm not even sure what the future holds for my relationship. The past year and a half have been anything but mushy. I've spent a lot of that time wondering if our marriage was going to survive, and convinced that the answer was no. There were times when I was sure I didn't want it to survive.

And now we're watching my friend, remembering how sweet that first tumble was. But it's also a reminder that we'll never have that again. I'm sure that's what brings many relationships to an end, the whole "I love you but I'm not 'in love' with you." Which is bullshit. Like I said, I'm not a romantic. As great as that 'in love' feeling is, it can't sustain a relationship.

I had a thought a few weeks ago: B. and I are in an established relationship. We've been through hell and back a few times. We've fought, we've loved, we know each other backwards and forwards. There's no risk. Which sounds boring.

But you know what? There's no risk. I know I'm not going to get hurt. He knows he's not going to get hurt. So what's stopping us from falling whenever we want? I can throw myself off the roof with the confidence that he'll be standing below to catch me.