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2002-01-20 | 1:53 p.m.

When I was a kid, I saw this movie with Shirley MacLaine, where she and her husband were experiencing some sort of marital discord and they were in Japan so she secretly dressed herself up as a Geisha girl and he fell in love with her, only to find out that it was really his wife. Do you remember that one?

Something like that has happened to me. Let me explain.

When another diarist adds me to their list of favorite diaries, I always go and read theirs. I don't always have the time (or the inclination) to read a lot, which makes me feel a little guilty, but I'll always read at least two or three entries. It seems like the right thing to do.

Recently I discovered a new diary this way and I really fell for it. Heart and soul. Started checking my buddy list to find out if it had been updated. Now there are diaries I truly love, adore, and admire, but I've never been a buddy list power user. The ones I hit the most tend to be the ones who have a notify list. In other words, often I wait for them to come to me. But not this time.

The other day a friend I have known for almost twenty years revealed that she is the author of the diary in question. She said, "Don't tell me you didn't suspect anything!" Honestly, I had no idea. It never even occurred to me that I might know the writer. This is a woman I know very well, too---if not like the back of my hand, then like the back of my ... er, back. But the fact is, I'm simply not looking for my friends in the diaries I encounter. It doesn't occur to me.

After the shock wore off, I developed a case of the warm fuzzies. Writing as an apparent stranger to me, my friend's prose had inspired my genuine admiration and a strong desire to keep reading. How cool is it that I felt such a connection to her when she was anonymous to me? That's a testament to something. I'm not sure what, exactly. But it made me feel like there's nothing chancy about the way I make friends. And it occurs to me that it's also as if I had passed a kind of test. Now she knows I like her writing on its own merits, and I'm not just saying that because we're friends.

Last but not least, it made me that much more glad that we're friends to begin with. Because in addition to everything else I like about her, she's a great writer!

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