Love and Other Drugs

K came to visit us this weekend. Well, okay, she came to visit M, but that means she gets to really become immersed in our household. For better or for worse.

Usually, I’m not included in many of the things they do. For the dates, I get it. I don’t want to be there any more than they want me to be there. But for the things they do with friends, it usually takes an invite from K, a mention from our mom, or a very enthusiastic “can I come?!” from me that makes M relent enough to have his little sister “tag along”.

Apparently, I’m still 12. It’s okay. I know I’m hilariously fun to be around. It’s not my fault if no one else sees it.

Anyway, on Friday evening, I went with M and K to the local pub to meet up with M’s best friend, who we will dub D.

Good times were had. Lots of laughs, a few drinks, and then 10 pm rolled around and it was M’s bed time. D had meat deliveries to attend to the next day (and no, he is not a traveling prostitute. His family sells beef. That’s not to say that no jokes were made about D’s “meat”, mostly in the context of M enjoying it. I’m not kidding. It was as though K and I weren’t even there at that point. They were so excited by the innuendo brought upon by this latest development that they literally couldn’t get the jokes out fast enough).

After D and M hugged and said good bye (and D waved at K and I), we began our walk home. At this point, perhaps brought upon by the alcohol, M and K were in their “oh let’s be all lovey and nice to each other” mood.

Awesome.

I walked behind these two lovebirds as they held hands and giggled like 2 fifteen year olds at the beginning of a relationship.

I pretty much wanted to throw up.

They leaned on each other. They gazed into each other’s eyes. They shared private jokes that brought upon soft laughter as they smiled those big stupid smiles that couples share.

I continued to walk alone along the dark street, feeling rather sad for myself and my lack of, well, anyone.

M and K expected this post to be funny in a depressing manner, coloured by my own self deprecation. It kind of is. But then, most of what I write has some sort of depressive factor. It’s just how I do.

Really, though. I’m happy for them. They not only clearly are really into each other, but they also like each other. They’re friends. They have similar senses of humour, they share the same values, and have a lot of the same interests. They’re happy. And that makes me happy.

It’s not everyday that you find someone to be in a relationship with that is also your best friend, and who you know only has eyes for you. Trust is important, but honesty is vital. You don’t want to trust someone who lies. To find that person that you can trust to be honest, that you can laugh with, cry to, and want to spend time with is special. It can’t be taken for granted.

So yes, seeing couples in love is annoying and sometimes vomit inducing. Sometimes they really are grossly sweet to each other. But most of it is jealousy and wanting to find my own someone to share that with, one that I can trust to be honest and know that, at the end of the day, he’s ultimately my best friend.

But M and K? Keep it to a minimum until I find someone, will you?

Thanks a bunch.

Hugs and kisses,

Bella

Oh, and M? Please refrain from the multitude of comments that I know are flooding your brain right now. You can let some of them go. Love you, though.