I had a very close male friend since fourth grade. We were both targets of extreme bullying and teacher abuse.

We remained friends until 9th grade, when he was removed from the standard high school to attend a program for “at risk” students (he was dealing with a learning disability for which he’d never been given any help, came from a single-parent welfare home, and had self esteem/depression issues).

We’d been inseparable, and then he was suddenly just gone. It hit me very hard. I'd had a secret crush on him.

I loved him for how he stood up for me, purposely got himself a detention if I'd been given one, to prevent me having to be alone with the abusive teacher.

He treated me like I was the most important person in his world, and encouraged me.

I dated only twice in high school after he left. I never had another relationship that made me feel the way he did.

After my first year of university, I returned to our hometown and we dated all that summer. I was 17, and he was 19. (I'd graduated early, with honours).

He always wanted to move things forward faster than I did, regarding sex. Since he was my first (and I his), I was nervous.

I’d also been raped as a very young child, and had anxieties.

I wanted to show him how much I loved him and wanted to give him pleasure.

But my crush had always been romantic and intellectual; I’d never had any sexual urges.

I finally permitted sex. Yet when it began, I froze. I couldn’t speak, or move. He quickly stopped. My parents came home then, and we acted like nothing happened.

I moved away back to school without discussing what happened. I didn’t give him my new address or phone number. I ran away like a stupid, scared child. I’m ashamed of that now. I didn’t date in university.

While there, I saw a newspaper article about asexuality. It described me and my feelings so completely that I saw a therapist and was told I fit the criteria for an asexual woman.

I was later also diagnosed with high functioning autism, generalized anxiety disorder, depression, panic disorder, and sensory integration disorder.

I’m now 37. He and I still live in the same city, but haven't had any contact.

He’s never married and isn’t involved with anyone. I’m single and never married. I still think of him often. It’s his face I see when I dream about anything romantic.

I know I behaved stupidly, childishly, cowardly, that it hurt him. But I still wish 20 years later, that I had a relationship with him!

I still have feelings for him, and still wish he could be part of my life now.

Haunting Past

Proceed very carefully, for both your sakes. First, ask yourself if you can handle potential rejection by him.

Because of your mental health conditions and your past, you should talk to a therapist beforehand, about contacting him.

If you go ahead, start with a long-overdue apology because you emotionally “ran away,” when he’d done nothing wrong.

Say that you’ve learned a lot about yourself since, and still see him as the only man you’ve ever cared for. If he’s willing, you’d like to meet.

Leave it at that. No further history, yet. If he agrees to get together, there’ll be time to explain more.

But don’t build expectations. A lot can feel different to you both, when meeting after 20 years.

FEEDBACK Regarding the son who feels “misunderstood” (January 7):

Reader – “If the "misunderstood son" finds it difficult to apologize to his father, he may find the word "regret" useful.

“He could ask his father if they could sit down together and have a conversation.

“The son could then express feelings of "regret" about what has transpired between the two of them.

“He could mention that he regrets having stayed out overnight and having worried his father.

“He could also state that he regrets that the incident led to the tension between them, which has lasted such a long time.

“I find the word regret to be very helpful, when two parties who are feeling harmed by one another, attempt to make amends.”

Ellie – I like your approach. The non-blaming tone of his acknowledging “regrets” can move them forward, without either staying mired in who was wrong or who overreacted.