I always thought it was so cliché when people said that they are marrying their best friend. I reluctantly liked their Instagram post and kept scrolling. But when it happened to me, I knew exactly what those girls were talking about. The overwhelming feeling of peace and happiness knowing that you are going to spend the rest of your life with someone who won’t make you miserable.
How did he ask? I don’t mean to brag, but it was literally the cutest thing ever. He was complaining about some bitch who wouldn’t blow him or some dumb shit like that, and after his long-winded rant about how he’s only with her because of her ass while I’m sitting there on the boniest behind imaginable, he turned to me and gave me a look I had never seen before. Was it lust? Was it love? Even better, it was settling.
“You know what? I think you are the only girl that I could stand for more than a few months at a time. How about if we’re both single at 33, we just get married?”
It’s every little girl’s dream. He finally popped the question. After years spent wondering if it would be weird if we hooked up, I finally had my answer. Not only could he stomach having sex with me, he even projected being able to tolerate my general existence for years to come. I couldn’t believe my ears. I wouldn’t believe my eyes either if he actually had a ring. But that’s for later.
I know I have 12 years, but there’s so much I have to do! It gives me plenty of time to put off a diet until a month before, and I already have a overstocked Pinterest board, so I’m ahead of the game. I just have to figure out what style of dress will show off my tits the best and how I want to do my hair. A simple updo or cascading curls? My friends are going to be SO jealous when they hear about this. I haven’t told them yet because I know they’ll just say things like “That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” or “You know that’s not a real engagement right?”, and I don’t need that negativity in my life. The stress will make me break out, and I need to look flawless at my wedding. The real issue will be picking my bridesmaids. I want Kelly to be my maid of honor because I know she is super organized, but her speech would be a sobbing dumpster fire. That girl just can’t stand to see me happy. I guess I’ll just have Becca do it if she’s not already blacked out by the reception.
So while all you bitches are complaining about frat bros and fuckboys, I’ll be registering myself at Nordstrom and planning my bachelorette party. I need it to be classy, but also penises everywhere. I wish I could still go to parties with you, but I’m an engaged woman now. There’s no reason for me to go prowling around when I have a pseudo-fiancé. I know there’s a guy out there who wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with me. And I can’t wait to marry my best friend..
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