Best Friend

It feels silly using the term "best friend". I blame my usage of this word on the influence of my generation; the brilliant creators of calling stupid things "retarded" and boys we dislike "faggots". Of course on the vocabulary spectrum, best friend is now considered much less offensive.  But I secretly wonder if, every time I talk about a best friend, the person I'm conversing with does an internal eye roll. 

Thus, I've tried to quit. Just as quoting Long Duck Dong was hard for me to shake, so is using best friend. The things is ---> nothing is more descriptive. Brutha From Anutha Mutha won't work for girls. Long-time friend sounds impersonal and Asian. BFF too childish and bestie makes me gag. So what then? Is there a definition that's appropriate? What do best friends actually do?

I have a couple of chicks I'd describe as my best friends but the person holding this title the longest is Riley. Neighbors at age 9, we connected despite clear differences-She was shy and delicate, I was boisterous and boyish. She wore GAP for Kids, I looked like a banshee.  She loved animals and pink and horses. I loved basketball and vests and poop jokes.  She thrived on Doritos and Diet Pepsi. My lunches were brussel sprout sandwiches and baby carrots.

We made it through high school. Discovering boys and stealing vodka from her parents liquor cabinet. Sometimes Riley would get crazy and pee in a sink. Sometimes she'd pull my hair back and comfort me when I cried (which was almost every weekend, bless her heart). 

If someone was to make a movie about our collegiate years, the name might be "Love and Lard". We gained 50 pounds collectively and heartbreak aplenty. We'd go weeks without talking but whenever we reunited it was an influx of stories about dickheads and body image woes.

My favorite thing about Riley is her unwavering support. No matter what. Riley is always on Team Mars. If I fight with someone, it's their fault. I'm right. They're wrong. I'm beautiful. They're ugly. I'm smart. They're stupid.  

We woke up last Christmas Eve after some heavy drinking and there was a puddle on her bedroom floor.

Hmmmmm. That's weird.

"It was probably my dog," Riley offers. 

Right. Your dog...that never pees in the house. I slink away to the couch.

At 10 AM, we polish off a large Avalanche Pizza. 

"I feel like shit."

"I HAATTEEE feeling like this."

"Hungover on Christmas Eve. What are we doing with our lives?"

"What are we doinnggggg with our liiiiiivvvvvvesssss?"

"Well, what can we do to make ourselves feel better?"

" I dunno, I dunnoooooo. I'm distressed."

"People usually feel good when they do charity."

Pause.

"You're right! We should go...put a hundred bucks on the poorest Chauncey doorstep we find. I'm serious. Let's do it."

And so we did. That's what it's like with us. She "gets" it. She gets me. And get her.

Riley's getting married in May. I attended one of her wedding meetings last week. After an hour and half discussion on various logistics-ranging from cake cutting utensils to baby seat numbers-the meeting dispersed at which time I announced loudly, "NO PART OF THIS APPEALS TO ME.  Why ANYONE would want to do this is beyond ME." 

Totally beyond me.  I don't know why someone would want to plan a wedding. It's painstaking. Making decisions about such small details, like what kind of pitcher should be used for lemonade or which decoration should be stamped on labels. Honestly, even committing yourself to someone for the REST OF YOUR LIFE is hard for me to wrap my mind around.

But here I am being her wedding intern. Calling hotels for her. Getting the specifics about chairs being delivered. Sewing flower petals. Cutting out fabric. Talking to people about...honeycombs!?! Encouraging her to do whatever she wants because it's "her day" (and I'm sincere when I say that!)  Why? Because that's what BEST FRIENDS do.