A lot has changed in three decades since: views on gendering, sexuality and yeah, parameters of friendship and sex. But has the essential concept changed? Can you be “just friends” when you’re into each other? And, continuing the Harry and Sally conundrum, what happens once you’ve crossed that line—can you stay friends?

It was easy in high school, even into college. I steadily made my way through my friend group and, for the most part, we resumed friend status after someone—OK, usually the someone was me—decided that it wasn’t going to work out after all. It wasn’t until after college that I started considering the real flexibility of friend boundaries. This epiphany came when my then-boyfriend and I became close with another guy. We went out together constantly and spent many nights flirting with some serious tension—but nothing ever happened. Why? Well, the existing relationship factored in, but the shared friendship was also at risk. Potentially losing that if sex entered the equation—it didn’t seem worth it.

It’s been more than a decade since that didn’t happen, and we’re living in a very different world. Yeah, I know about friends with benefits—I tried that, it never worked out for me—but have the boundaries of friendship and sex really vanished, or even lessened? Are we now so enlightened that it’s no big deal to balance platonic and sexual interests?

Sex therapist Vanessa Marin says Harry was full of it. She maintains that we’re entirely capable of being “just friends,” no matter what our hormones tell us. “It's impossible for us to control our attractions, but we can control our impulses,” she tells Playboy. Regardless of interest, she says, “if you know that you're better off as friends, you can control yourself from acting on your impulses.” Obviously, we do have free will—the question is, how ironclad is it?

Mostly, if you’re considering whether it’s friendship or friends-plus, it’s about being in agreement. Marin argues that, while there's no way to prevent one-sided attraction—and that, sadly, it's the likeliest outcome—not addressing it means a guaranteed failure. That’s what happened for Chelle, a publicist, who says the near-miss with her best friend came when, after fooling around, she realized she wasn’t really so attracted. After that, the urge disappeared. “We laughed and joked about it. Like any typical man, he would bring it up and say things, but it died down after a few months,” she says. It seemed to her that letting it go without drama helped the friendship to resolve and allowed them to move past the awkwardness. Her friend is settled down now, and she says, “I don't think it even enters his mind, and I did forget about it, to be honest. Not in a bad way—it was a moment. It’s passed.”

Harry and Sally, of course, have their moment, and then the friendship falls apart—once sex is involved, the movie suggests, it’s done and can’t be undone. Ellie, a former lawyer, experienced something very close to the Harry and Sally narrative. Six years ago, she met a guy while she was seeing someone else. They became good friends until they got drunk one night and slept together. “The next morning, we pretended it hadn't happened, laughed through the awkwardness and carried on hanging out as though it never happened,” she says. Neither made a move to take it further, so they stayed friends, dating other people for years—until the friendship started to fall apart, and Ellie realized the full potential. She ended the relationship she was in, found a new place to live, then said she was ready to give it a try. “He was cautious,” she says. “I expected open arms, but it took time to rebuild the trust. I didn't give in, and he made it difficult but eventually accepted an olive branch. Pretty quickly after, he asked me on our first 'real' date—only four years after we met.”

Not all such stories have happy-ever-after endings, though. My own experience of trying to backpedal a relationship supported this theory: My ex-boyfriend was enthusiastic about the “friends with benefits” concept but turned out to be more interested in the benefits portion of the arrangement. Obviously, not all relationships can be painted with the same brush, but let’s say it wasn’t the only time I saw that brush in action.

I don’t think I’m alone there. Scott, a consumer advocate, once hooked up with his new tenant, a woman looking for a fresh start (“Islands attract those types,” he says, sounding like someone who’s seen this happen before). They slept together on her first night there, and he found it “an ideal FWB scenario for a while.” Then he realized he was into her, but she’d met someone else, and the “friends” part of the setup didn’t carry over.

Sometimes, it’s timing; sometimes, it’s chemistry. If Sally had given Harry signals, and he’d suddenly remembered an early meeting or an allergy to sex, then made a quick exit, it was game over—definitely for any romantic prospect, and maybe for the friendship as well. After all, it’s just humiliating to put yourself out there and get shot down. It’s hard to move on without prejudice.

Additionally, let’s contemplate the mess that ensues when a current partner learns that your now-friend used to be something more. Marin says in no way should you reveal your friend lust. “I would definitely not tell your partner that you're attracted to your friend,” she says. “Attraction is perfectly normal, but there's no good reason to tell your partner about it.” But it’s a different game altogether when there’s actual history involved. I was always curious about what would have happened in a different timeline, one where Harry and Sally hooked up and then were friends, married to other people. I’m still friends with our long-ago flirtation, but no one ever mentions the attraction or the could’ve-been. I guess it’s just simpler that way.

Spoiler: Harry ultimately won the argument. At least as far as Sally was concerned, they were, clearly, more than friends. But is it possible to be friends with attraction? I think so. Even if you always know that attraction is there, what happens with it is up to you.