On behalf of women in relationships everywhere, let me first extend a whole-hearted thank you for the years you’ve invested in our boyfriends.
I need no convincing that you have likely guided them through life’s many trial and errors, whether it be his Hollister silk-screened t-shirts, fading both in color and trend, or his even more questionable selection of ex-girlfriends.
We both know how stubborn they can be, and I can only imagine the amount of convincing that was necessary to rid them of these atrocities.
Truly, girlfriends near and far praise you for getting our men past these roadblocks, and guiding them down the proverbial road that ended in us.
You should know, he listened to what you had to say when you dragged him to the mall in an attempt to update his look while you vented about the latest guy you slept with who isn’t texting you back. Know that he listened.
You eventually moved on from that fling and wound up in a relationship yourself.
He answered your blubbering phone call at 2 am and calmed you down enough to hear that your boyfriend cheated on you and you were broken.
He listened to how shattered you were and your pain left him feeling hurt, too. Years later, you texted him the raunchy details of hooking up with one of your mutual friends.
Your feelings were left conflicted because of the messy situation, and he listened to the depths of your confusion.
Living his life intertwined with yours allowed him to grow into the man I’m lucky enough to have today.
When we slept together, he said he’d text. He ended up doing me one better — he called.
When that girl who was never any good for him (you know the one — the streaky blonde highlights) made cheating on me an option, he made sure she knew that he never did.
Even before me, when single life proved to be lonesome and two-too-many margaritas made hooking up with one of his platonic girlfriends seem like a good idea, he knew it wasn’t. Because of you.
He made these choices because he listened to you. He chose me because he listened to you.
Because of this, let’s be honest: I owe you. Truthfully, I really want to like you, so please don’t make this hard.
You should know right off the bat, he’s not going to call you as much anymore to complain about how bitchy his girlfriend is acting.
In fact, he’s probably not going to call you as much anymore in general.
He’s not going to need you to go with him to pick out his mother’s birthday present, or to explain to him what detergent would best mask his pungent gym socks without making them smell "floral."
He might not be able to answer your call at 2 am, and he probably already has a longstanding date with me on Saturday nights.
As much as he values your friendship, he gets enough venting girl drama from me now, and he’d rather play Xbox with his bros than dissect a female crossfire that doesn’t end in “thank-you-for-listening-to-me-complain-I-love-you-sex.”
He’s not going to be interested in a movie night at your place, and any movie night at his place will indefinitely involve me.
In fact, a lot of things you guys used to do together will now involve me. And that’s okay. I promise you, platonic girlfriend, it is truly okay.
You see, I’m not the enemy here. I know there might have been a part of you that wanted him to be single forever, so you could live out the “If we’re both single when we’re 40….” pact.
I’m not stealing your best friend/pact partner, away. I’m not stringing him along while pining over my ex.
I don’t embarrass him by posting selfies on social media, and I know the dynamics to properly highlight my hair. I’m not breathing down his neck, placing boundaries against you in our relationship.
I’m well kept, well read and some even say I have a bit of wit. You and I may be different, but we’re also a lot alike.
We both love him. And he loves us. But here’s the thing: I’m the girl you wanted him to end up with all along.
So, realize that the time your best friend spends with me is time well spent. Don’t be catty toward me, like you were to the flames of his past. Make an effort.
Get to know why he’s choosing to spend so much time with me instead of you. Stop extending him exclusive invitations to hang out and getting disappointed when it never happens.
When you finally see us out, stop spending the entire time shoving your new life developments in his ear, or loudly cackling about some obscure event in your past that would be impossible for me to relate to.
Talk to me. Include me. Realize who you’re dealing with.
I’m not someone to overlook as some phase parallel to his Hollister silk-screens.
I’m part of him now, and because of all that you’ve done to shape him into the incredible person I get to call mine, I’d like to be part of you now, too.