The One That I’m Writing Just For You

I was told once that I’m not a personal blogger. I write about what’s going on at school, I wax on about my love for Josh Lyman and tequila but when it comes to sharing stories about my friends or family? I don’t find myself writing those stories easily. Perhaps because I feel guarded- those friends and family, well I adore them in the ways you adore the things you can’t imagine living without.  I keep them, I keep their stories close to me the way you sometimes hold on to good news or happy memories, because you love them too much to share.

However.

As some of you have heard (mostly because of the Dress Debacle of ’09- which is 110% awesome now- even if my relationship with my seamstress is now strained because she thinks I’m a whore for balking at having a floor length dress), I’m in a wedding this weekend. A wedding for one of the dearest and most lovely girls I know.

She’s the kind of girl who shows up. Always. She shows up when you need someone to talk to at midnight or when you are crying about your brother. She shows up when you need a ride to the airport, when you feel broken, when nothing bad is happening but you are struggling to find something good. She shows up when your house burns down and you have no place to live- she opens her door, makes sure you have everything you would possibly need and then drinks beer with you until you both fall asleep giggling.

She’s the one who loves singing loudly on the dance floor. The one who is fluent in my crazy. The one who”s in all my favourite photos.  She’s the one who knows the back story on every boy- the one who gets most excited hearing about the new one. She’s the one who’s bet me $20 that I will cry at her wedding, despite everything I’ve said to tell her that I won’t. She’s the one who has consumed yard margaritas with me in Vegas, who slept in a tent with me to raise money for charity, who has held a fake Stanley Cup with me, danced until 5 am with me.  She’s the one who loves beer but doesn’t drink it when she’s with me because she knows I can’t.  She’s the one who hates writing but reads my blog, the comments and remembers the names of the commenters who made her laugh. She’s been witness to all my bad choices and is the first to cheer on my accomplishments.

She’s the friend I hope each of you have.

She’s the one who’s getting married this Saturday.

And I’ll be the one crying and ready to hand over my $20.

Money well spent.

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