I feel like a terrible person for saying this, and I know if either of you ever read this, I’ll regret (and deny) saying this for the rest of my life, but here’s the thing. I don’t like you. But that’s because I really don’t know you well enough to say I dislike you, and I don’t know whose fault that is, but I’m big enough of a person to say that it’s yours.
When I say I don’t know you, I really don’t. My best friend went away on a volunteering trip in Europe and he came back with you. He would not shut the hell up about you, even if I asked him to try, like you were the second coming of Beyoncé. You were perfect, gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful, and everything he and I ever wanted in a girlfriend, and everything I’d ever want for my best friend to make him happy. I was so excited to meet you.
Then came the actual meeting. Call me McKayla Maroney, because I was not impressed. It was bad enough that after suggesting places to meet that were between our neighborhoods and close to public transportation, you insisted on meeting at a place around the block from your apartment, because according to you, nothing exists outside of your neighborhood. That was strike one. When I finally got there, I realized it was at a loud, crowded bar. Sports were on, and you were surrounded by all of your friends–and wrapped around my best friend. Then there was me. I had to break into that, try to get through all the noise and the crowds, and I had to talk over all of your friends to try to get a word in so I could get to know you. You can guess how well that worked. I left feeling pretty down and dejected.
I would have written it off as a fluke, but the next time my best friend was in town, you did the exact same thing: loud, inconvenient bar, sports, and WAY too many people to have a meaningful conversation. I don’t get it. We have plenty of mutual friends, we live in the same area, and you claim to be in love with my best friend in the world–but you can’t muster up more than a, “Hey, how are you?”
Listen up, sweetie. He was my best friend since we were in grade school, for as long as I can remember. He was the big brother I always dreamed of having, and I gave him the stability he never had in life. He defended me when kids would pick on me, and he was my rock through all the tough times someone like me could go through growing up. Completely platonic. So when I say I want what’s best for him, I really mean it.
On paper, you’re perfect. You’re well-educated, you have a good job, and forgive me for saying this, but you’ve clearly got some cash. But other than that, I know absolutely nothing about you, and that scares the shit out of me. My best friend is the best person I know, and he’s easily susceptible when it comes to girlfriends. I know that he’s a sucker for a big booty and a smile, and that has come back to bite him in the ass before. He’s been low. Real low. And I was the only person who was there to pick up the pieces. And now he’s become one of the single most poised and impressive men I know.
Am I being selfish? Absolutely. When my best friend moved away, home didn’t feel like home anymore, and any time I got to see him was special. But now, I also have to share that time with you. I’d be okay with that if you made me feel even remotely special; instead I feel like an insignificant character in my best friend’s life, shunned aside even though I need him, too, and you’re essentially justifying it by saying, “Oh, he doesn’t like me.”
I want to like you. I truly and deeply do. It pains me to feel so awkward around someone who means so much to my best friend. Maybe take the time to get to know me next time he’s in town, or better yet, meet me for coffee one day after work. Frankly, this is a game of tug-of-war you don’t want to play. I’ve seen ’em all come and go, and if you don’t want to be just another one on the list, you should probably win me over.
I want to see my best friend end up with someone just like you: a girl who’s pretty, has a great job, and a brain in her head. But you’re not the only person on Earth with those qualities. If you want to get to him, you’ll have to go through me.
Nice Move775
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Stefon
New York's Hottest Club is wherever I am. Haters to the front, hunky Sailors to the back. Bow down betches. Follow this bitch on Twitter @StefonTSM StefonTSM@iCloud.com
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