If he’s not your best friend, you have no chance (“Alone and Together,” continued)

Shortly after David and I moved in together, we visited my parents in my hometown. It went better than I thought it would. We went to see my mom first. The first thing she said was, “You even look alike!” This was a nice compliment. She made us dinner, then let us sleep in the same room even though she had made a separate bed for David somewhere else.

The next day, we visited my dad. We took him to a barbeque restaurant. On the way there, he asked David a lot of questions about completely irrelevant things, and David knew the answers.

He passed the test.

It was a nice conversation, and a nice meal—one of the best I’ve ever had. David and I were affectionate and supportive like we usually are, but to my dad, it was a surprise.

It was the first time he’d ever seen me in love.

A few days later when we were back in Seattle I called him and asked what he thought of David. He said that before he met David, when I just described him on the phone, he didn’t know why I’d want to date him, but when he saw us together, he understood. He could tell that we were good friends, he said.

He approved.

And he was right: we are good friends. We are best friends. And there is nothing in a relationship that can substitute for that—nothing.

And please, esteemed reader, please, if you are reading this now and you aren’t absolutely sure that the person you are in love with is truly your best friend, someone you can tell almost anything to without getting teased and with knowing they will still love you as much as ever after you tell them, please:

Do not get married.

If you do, of course, I don’t blame you. We all want our happy ending to happen soon. I did, too. But as soon as you can, as soon as you have the strength to be without it again, do what I did: Say goodbye.

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