Love letter to my future bestie
Monday, June 3, 2024
I am going to spare you from calling you ‘dear’. That word is simply weird. Let me get straight to the point:
On Tuesday we would have breakfast together. I would ask you how slept and try to guess what your dreams mean. I bet I’d make you laugh with the absurdity of mine.
On Friday we would have dinner together, maybe go halfsies if the menu looks good. You’d tell me the chisme of the week, the ugly and the pretty. Of course in detail, I probably got some chisme headlines on WhatsApp.
On Sunday I would bring you leftovers of whatever tasty dish I cooked. Or maybe not, as you already know, laziness does take over me from time to time.
On a regular basis I would bombard you with my repository of stickers, carefully curated for even the most unlikely situations. We would text about mundane things. The new hair product you’re trying, the latest tiktok trend annoying you, the extravagant people you see while out in the streets.
We would go on walks together, and talk about politics and what a messed up world we live in. We would be moved to action together.
When your birthday comes, I’d wait impatiently until the time reads 00:00 to be one of the first to congratulate you and remind you how much I love you. I would bake your favorite cake and help you make your special day memorable.
Whenever you get sick I would make you chicken soup, or veggie soup if you’re vegan. I would go to the doctor with you if you’re afraid of needles or just need company. I would send you pictures of the weird bump in my back so you help me decide if I’m overreacting or if I should actually go to the doctor.
Before you go on dates, we would choose your outfit together and which dirty text to send first. I would come to your place to watch movies and cry with you if the date turned into a situationship.
Should my heart get stepped on, I would come to your place to cry on your shoulder. When depression refuses to leave my house, perhaps you come to mine and help me kick her out?
We would laugh so much you’d even pee a little (maybe you pushed out a crotch goblin or got old). We would run errands together and enjoy each other’s presence in silence.
We would talk about whatever is on our minds. I would call you out on your bullshit and you would call me out on mine. Our pride might get hurt and we might get angry, but we would find our way back to each other.
I would be a committed admirer of your work, whether you’re an artist, a farmer, a therapist or a pilot. I would definitely not threaten your new partner with death if they hurt you, but if they did, I would find a sneaky way to leave burning poo on their front door.
I would love you and annoy you with all my heart.
Con amor and a bestie-shaped hole in my existence,
Steph.