Hi. I won’t be at your wedding.
Oops. That was supposed to come out in a more graceful manner. I meant to lead up to it with some small talk. I meant to make up a very socially acceptable “reason” for my non-attendance. It was between “I don’t have the money to fly home” and “my boss won’t allow me take off any more days.” Both of those would have been lies. If I wanted to be at your wedding I would be there. We’ve been “best friends” for five years. Always best friends. Always platonic.
You have spent holidays at my house to avoid your messed up family and you’ve slept over when I’m scared at night, or lonely. Platonically, of course. We’ve spent hours in the car, on the phone, crafting inside jokes that can be shared with one look across the room. Platonic. You’ve been with me on nights I’ve drank too much and you’ve listened to me cry about my shitty ex boyfriends. You’ve yelled at me to break it off or stop talking about it because you hate seeing my tears so much. Platonic advice. Last year something changed. I let myself actually look into your eyes. I let myself think, for seconds at a time, that it might be okay if I fell for you. My Dad said that we couldn’t be best friends forever. He said we will either get married or our friendship will fall apart. When you are married you usually can’t have a girl best friend. I don’t want our friendship to fall apart. I realized that all of the reasons I chose you as my best friend were all the reasons I could love you.
You met her a month after I started feeling these feelings. I had just whispered these feelings out loud to my best friend when you took her on your first date. I was still so unsure so I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t. I stuffed them away and tried to forget. And then I would see you again. And I would remember. The feelings. The ones creeping into my heart and mind. She moved in with you three months later. I pretended to think it was a bad idea because you were moving too fast. You were moving too fast but I actually objected because I was jealous. And scared that I was losing you. I didn’t want to lose you.
But I did. You forgot about me. And it stung. Really, really badly. I numbed the pain by pushing it down, not thinking about it, throwing myself into my work and my passions. But it hurt when my closest friend became the biggest stranger. It left a gaping hole in my life. I thought you needed time to grow up. As you went from girl to girl I thought you needed time before you’d be ready to settle down. I think that unconsciously I always thought we could end up together. I thought you would always be in my life.
I know you didn’t do it on purpose. At least I hope you didn’t. Maybe she told you not to talk to me or spend time with me. Maybe it was your decision. I don’t know which would be worse. To you we have always been best friends, and you made the decision to throw our friendship away. So I’m writing you to tell you that I won’t be attending your wedding. After countless nights of crying in my car alone and listening to songs that remind me of the us there never was, I have to let go. The first eight times I tried to write to you it turned into a plea, asking you to reconsider, asking you not to leave me. But as I sit on my bathroom floor, surrounded by tissues and crumbled up paper, I realize that you’re already gone. I hope it’s everything you dreamed it would be.
Your platonic ex-best friend.