To People Who Think My Best Friend Is The One:
You all know my best friend, Q-Boog, is female. Some of you have known this for the past 11 years, and continue harboring thoughts about us. A few of you tell me that we’re destined to be one (especially you, Mom).
Seriously, you (Mom) actually told my now ex-girlfriend once that you thought Q-Boog was my future wife. It’s one of the many reasons why my ex is my ex. I have probably said this a hundred times to each of you about my best friend: She ain’t it. She’d tell you the same thing with a straight face. Accept it, your visions of love for me parallel Stevie Wonder’s actual sight.
I love Q-Boog as much if not more than any of my other friends because we’ve been through so much together since we met freshman year of college. A few days into knowing her, I tried introducing Q-Boog to someone as my friend. Q-Boog promptly corrected and embarrassed me.
“Um, we’re not friends,” she said to me and anyone else who could hear her. After that, I told myself she’d be a close pal if I could help it. Our bond strengthened over many conversations, moments of trust, disagreements and reconciliations. No, not that kind.
See, I love Q-Boog like you love the little sister who told on you when you got home three minutes late. I want to be the one to pick on her, but will defend her in most cases. Our relationship is so “When Harry Met Sally,” but only the first 40 minutes of the film before Harry and Sally start falling in love.
Get us in person, and we fight so much that you might think we were mortal enemies. I once wrongly accused her of wanting to cheat off of my work. She didn’t forgive me for a few weeks. She once wrote me a poem expressing how upset she was with me. I swear I saw blood vessels about to burst when she read it. But through my trials, she has provided me with the best advice and stood by me in my darkest moments.
Yes, we can sleep in the same bed with each other because it’s purely platonic. Yet, for some reason, none of you believe me. In your minds, I’m the blinded bat who wouldn’t know a Mack truck full of love if it ran me over (I wouldn’t; I’d be dead). You all assume that just because we’re opposite-sex friends who care about each other that we should be a couple.
Hear this: It’s possible for man and woman to be just friends.
Besides, we know that if you put us in the same living space for a year you might catch our story on your local nightly news. We don’t want that. And neither should you.
This “loving my best friend” thing is a horse that never made it out of its mother’s womb, so stop beating it (Mom). Please and thank you.
P.S. Mom, that means stop calling Q-Boog your future daughter-in-law.