Maybe I do want a wedding

You know what today is? It’s my friendy-versary with Biogirl. My awesome BFF, my non-blood sister (ooh, that sounds zombie-ish), my platonic life partner. It was on this day many years ago that she and I went on our first friend date. And you know how you go on awesome first dates and you just can’t stop hanging out with the other person so it goes on for hours, and hours, and hours? That’s what our first friend date was like. We went for a really long walk, and then we went to a (really awful) movie, and then we made dinner, and then we talked until the middle of the night, and then we made fun of Nordic Boy for talking in his sleep in front of us.

So many years later, and we still do all of those things.

Biogirl and I have often joked that someday, we should have a platonic life partner commitment ceremony. Because we have groused about the fact that we really have missed out on getting to have a registry. So why not commit ourselves to each other in front of our family and friends, and make them buy us blenders and crock pots?

For the sake of the friendy-versary, I started to think about what our vows might sound like. What would I say? Let’s give it a whirl.

I, Librarian Girl, do solemnly swear that I will always:

Call you, text you, or email you approximately 3-5 times a day.
Apologize profusely, on a periodic basis, for shutting your hand in the car door that one time.
Make up imaginary bands, towns, townspeople, video games, businesses, personas, and presidents that died on volcanoes with you.
Sit with you when you want to have a good cry about something.
If I shock you too much with something I have said, and you want to hide in the bathroom for a while, I will wait for you to come out.
Always pick up the phone when you call.
Not put tomatoes in your salad.
Have a room for you in any house I live in.
Help you to drive in the snow.
Make inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times.
Let you help me with lunch.
Call you from the dressing room while I am shopping.
Help you move, pick you up from the airport, water your plants, take care of your (future) dog, and pick up your mail when you’re gone.
Tell you when the back hem of your skirt is tucked into your underwear.
Be your plus-one.
Let you be my burb sherpa.
Celebrate, in one form or another, as much of Christmas with you as I can possibly bear.
Tell you everything. And I mean everything.
Keep all of your secrets.

I would also like to have a moment to shout out to Nordic Boy, who never minds that I tell the BFF all of our private business, or that we talk about the fact that men die sooner than women so we have planned out our retirement together as Golden Girls style ladies, and who does a bang up job at keeping up with our various other nonsense, and who loves Biogirl almost, almost as much as I do.

And then, I think I have to say the sickness and health, for better for worse part, because dudes, you have no idea. We have so done that.

Biogirl has been there for me through the thickest of the thick and the thinnest of the thin, day in and day out, for over a decade. Literally, every. single. day. She and Nordic Boy run neck and neck for loving me and being there for me no matter what happens on a scary-consistent basis.

Biogirl is, without a doubt, the other love of my life.

To that, I raise a toast to you, dear girl, and say: “BALLS.”

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