Rhapsodies of the Barefooted Gypsy

An open letter to my best friend


Disclaimer: The subject in this essay is totally fictitious. Any resemblance to people living and dead is a miracle and should only be obvious to the subject and those who know the subject.

I was waiting for my lunch at Testa Rossa today and was about to order coffee when I saw two guys laughing and talking the way that only Joey and Chandler does. I thought of you and ordered cherry cola instead.

Isn’t that the definition of our friendship? That I like coffee and you like cherry cola? I’m the emotional one and you are the unbreakable. I’m always idealistic, the way you’re always pragmatic. I’m the one who believes in happily-ever-afters. I’m the one who sought for love and failed, yet never tire to seek for it over again. Whereas you keep things real. You weigh the success rate of a relationship based on statistics.

While I have ideas on how to solve a problem, you have specific steps to reach a solution. I always ask you to believe and give things a good try, and you’re the one who always prepare me for the worst. I give you hope, you give me reason. And that’s why we go so well together. Well, went. After our silly argument last night, I’m not sure if I should start referring to you in past tense form.

I remember, when I met you at a salsa party a year and a half ago, you were that guy behind your glasses sitting alone in a corner. You would dance, and sit, and dance, and sit again. A vicious cycle. Nothing else in between. Back then, your social skills weren’t really your strongest point. And back then, I would never have guessed that you would eventually become one of the very few people I hold so dear in my heart. And I bet neither did you.

Referring to you as my best friend is a long process that reflects a string of cafes we went to, the amount of popcorn we eat on every movie night, the evening drives to and from parties, and all the conversations and calls exchanged in between. Our friendship reflects a history of inside jokes and banters that people around us would never understand.

I think some people still find it hard to grasp that two people from the opposite sex can be best of friends without crossing the lines, or without smudging the borders of friendship and romance.

What we have is friendship developed over time, over shared experience, over a consciousness to support another person without any ties and expectations romantic or familial.

But best friendship is not always sugary, and full of rainbow colors and unicorns and jokes and hangouts. Let’s face it, that’s bullshit.

In reality, our friendship is flawed. We have a lot of misunderstanding and contrasting views that often lead to petty fights.

You tell me that I’m a drama queen to you the way I am not with everyone else. You are right, everyone else sees me as this peachy, ever-so-awesome, happy-go-lucky girl. I don’t show them that I am neurotic because it will make them run 190mph!

You are an asshole. You are a self-absorbed, unfeeling, callous ass! In a way that you’re not with everyone. Everyone else sees you as the laid-back, cool, all-smiley guy.

Why can’t you be that laid-back, cool, all-smiley guy to me? If only they know you, they would be running 190mph too.

See, the point is, I can be the monster that I am and I know you will understand. You can be full of crap (which you are!) and I will take it for what it is. We take each other’s shit. We listen to each other’s crap. We got each other’s back.

Our friendship is as special as it is rare. It consists of honesty. Brutal honesty and ugly truths, and everything else that no one would dare tell us. I don’t think anyone else can call me a bitch on my face, the way no one else can come to you and tell you to fuck yourself off. Respect that we can do that in each other’s faces.

I know I don’t say it as much as I should, and it doesn’t show in my actions, but I really value our friendship. I appreciate you and everything that you’ve done for me. And I will continue to value our friendship and appreciate you even if you stop everything you do for me. You are my rock. Everytime I find myself in trouble, you are there. You are there through every heartache. You’re there through every good and bad decision.

You are my family. For goodness’ sakes, you’re even my emergency contact person!

We will have disgareements, we will want different things, and we will fight. But I think being each other’s best friend means there is willingness to adapt, and understand each other’s shortcomings. And to not cease supporting each other because someone was being irrational (in this case, I will admit it’s me.)

It may sound like a job, and it sort of is. It is something that demands admitting you’re wrong. It is something that requires you to swallow your pride and understand that you can’t be too selfish all the time.

I’m sorry about last night. But you made me feel that you didn’t have my back. Ok, I overreacted, but you could have been considerate! Scratch that! I’m sorry and I mean it. Can you still be my emergency contact person?