There is such a thing as cheating on your best friend.
It’s seeing a movie with someone else that you promised you’d see with her first. It’s when you cancel on plans with her to hang out with a mere acquaintance. Mostly, it’s not keeping the sacred things sacred: going to your declared mutual favorite restaurant – “your place” – with someone else simply because it’s convenient, you want to go there, and she happens to not be around but this other person is; repeating a story or personal anecdote of yours that, in the larger scheme of your lady bromance, marks your friendship with your boo as truly special because you only shared it with her; and worst of all – making some drunken, insensitive, and WAY THE HELL disingenuous declaration to some drive-by friendship fling that she’s “one of your best friends” – FOR SHAME! (Note: there is a Lady Bromance Cheating Clause, which states a significant other as the only exception. S.O.’s are allowed to overstep a bit.)
Anyone who knows me knows that I am fiercely – and at times frighteningly and RUTHLESSLY – loyal; the kind of loyal that allows me to justify dislocating someone’s entire face with my killer right hook to help you win an argument in which you’re blatantly wrong (because if someone’s going to tell you you’re wrong, it’s going to be me, and I will do so with love). I am the best person you could possibly have on your team, and the enemy who will find some way to make you run away screaming, pissing your pants in mid-flee with mortal terror (I will destroy you and those you love most – guaranteed [disregard this, NSA – this ain’t none of your business!]). So, even with T’s absence leaving a sudden and painfully palpable void in my life, there are just some things that I simply won’t do (*song break* I would do anything for love! Oh, I would do anything for love! I would do anything for love….but I WON’T. DO. THAT. *end song break*).
Going to our favorite bar.
I miss you, kitschy decor, suspicious skeleton, and gloriously random Star Wars paraphernalia. And especially YOU, Jukebox! But my love for my boo is stronger than your drunken wiles, charming tunes, and promises of Schofferhofer!
Watching I Love You, Man, Pineapple Express, or any other bromantic comedy.
After all, what the hell’s the point when I don’t have my boo around to laugh with and make untimely, inappropriate jokes to?
Indulging in imperial rolls.
Just like how corn dogs are practically their own major food group for me and T, imperial rolls (particularly from one hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese restaurant) are to us what spinach is to Popeye the Sailorman. But I don’t care how bad the craving is and how I can suddenly smell them everywhere I go – no imperial roll shall journey through my digestive system without the company of my boo! (I accidentally made that kind of gross, didn’t I?)
Even, having a milkshake. (Ohhhhh, shit just got real, son!)
Yes. That’s right. I hereby promise to give up milkshakes until my boo’s return. Y’all don’t even know just how serious this is, but T does.
And now I know – now I finally understand – that in this case, and in every case where it’s my loyalty on the line, the one thing I won’t do, the “that” that I can’t bear to act on (are you guys loving this dramatic intro or what?!) is anything to hurt someone I love.
So T, this is for you! Take it away, Meat Loaf!