You have auto-shotgun in each other’s car from the instant you call it until the end of time.
You have your own weird language, dialogue, or vocal cadence, and you unashamedly speak it in public.
You get weirdly jealous of her other “best friends,” even though you know they are just part of a tier, and not the number one title holders.
She’s in about 50 percent of your photos, both on social media and hanging around your room.
But you only look normal in about 12 of them.
Once she’s made out with a boy, he becomes categorically off limits to you, and not just because it’s “the right thing.” There is literally some type of trigger that goes off in your brain that makes hooking up with him seem like hooking up with your brother.
You’ve seen her bare ass naked enough times that it doesn’t even phase you anymore.
You probably spend about 22 percent of your best friendship discussing your best friendship.
If you go two days without talking to each other, you have a month’s worth of catching up to do.
You’ve found yourself judging other “best friends,” because you can tell when someone doesn’t have the real best friend connection.
She knows more about your sex life than your boyfriend does. Like, way more.
Sometimes, you sit around laughing uncontrollably about things that happened years ago–painful, spazzy, full-body laughter.
Her food is your food, and your food is her food. Except for restaurant leftovers. That shit is sacred.
You know her real “number”–not the one she tells guys, not the one she tells other friends, not even the one she tells herself. The real real one. Like, the one she tells the gynecologist.
There are certain items of clothing that both of you have worn so many times that you can’t remember who they really belong to. (Okay, I’m lying. I know that dress is yours, but you’re never getting it back.)
No one finds it weird when you crawl into her bed with her and her hookup in the morning to recap last night…besides maybe the dude. He probably finds it weird.
She’s seen you ugly cry and knows whether to give you advice, get you drunk, or let you lie on the floor while you sob hysterically as she holds your hand, without saying a word.
Your boyfriend feels like the third wheel when the three of you hang out.
In fact, you feel sorry for people who say their boyfriend is their “best friend.”
Boyfriends can be great, but your best friend is irreplaceable.
People always ask you where she is when she’s not around.
And you always know the answer, because you have her schedule memorized.
Most people think “telling someone everything” just includes the latest gossip and drama in your lives. You know it actually means discussing poop, the bad friend move you pulled on someone else, and the fact that you sometimes find a hair from your head in your lady parts.
She wasn’t even mad at you that time you peed in her bed. Okay, she was a little bit mad, but mostly she just uses it to make fun of you.
You look nothing alike, but people still confuse you, because you’re so similar.
Other people think you’re mean to each other, but they just don’t get that her bad hair day is a reflection on you, and it does not need sugarcoating.
She knows just as much about your future wedding as you do. “I can’t set my date for September 15, because I’ll need to keep that date available to babysit for your future kids on your anniversary night.”
In 2008, you made a private Facebook group called “People We Like.” Members included you and her and no one else. (No? Just us? Okay.)
You quite literally know every single piece of clothing in her closet, plus the accessories, and you help yourself to them whenever you like, without asking.
You once had an entire conversation using nothing but emojis.
Your mom buys her a Christmas present every year.
You’ve never sent her a pretty Snapchat. Ever.
Sure, you know her drink order, but who doesn’t? You also know her dinner order, her dessert order, her side order, and her freaking salad dressing order.
Kidding. You’re way too secure in your friendship to pretend you ever want salads.
There are certain life events that you’ll only talk to her about, because she’s the only person who will fully understand your brain and your heart.
You are constantly all up in each other’s social media. Occasionally, when you’re bored, you’ll just stalk her for no reason.
She has helped you craft both the perfect text to a boy as well as the perfect sext. No shame.
If you don’t discuss your outfits beforehand, you WILL end up wearing the same thing, because that’s how much you live in each other’s brains. It’s happened before.
You’ve gotten overwhelmingly mad at someone on each other’s behalf.
After any amount of time apart, it feels like no time has gone by at all.
Even when it’s so perfectly passive-aggressive that it’s hardly even identifiable as a subtweet, you always know who her subtweets are about.
You’ve had slumber parties in a twin-sized bed when a perfectly good double was available, simply because neither of you felt like moving.
Other people may be fooled by her blackout shenanigans, but not you. You know when to try to control her and when to just set her up with a blanket and a pillow in her bathroom.
Sometimes you worry that you’ll never be as close to a guy as you are to your best friend.
One time, it took you six hours to tell her a story, because you kept getting sidetracked with discussions about the meaning of life.
You’ve texted her an embarrassing number of mirror selfies when you needed outfit help and she wasn’t around.
A small part of you feels guilty referring to your other besties as “best friends,” because, like, no–I have ONE best friend, and it’s not you.
You not only fight with her like she’s your sister, but you fight with her sisters like they’re your sisters.
And you never worry that she’ll actually be hurt by anything you say during those fights, because when you say “you know what I mean,” she actually does.
You have special little names for all of your wardrobe items, and when you ask her where your “hippie pants” or your “ugly but not sweater” is, she will instantly tell you that it’s under your bed.
You can read each other’s minds like you were trained by the psychic at the county fair.
One of you may be loud, the other quiet; one girly, the other a tomboy; one overly emotional, the other a cynic; but in the ways that matter, you’re exactly the same.
Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org