The Last Sleepover

I rolled over to see my best friend outlined in the faint street lights shining through the curtains. It was four nights before her wedding. She had been in love with her first boyfriend for over a year and they were about to make their love official in holy matrimony. Meanwhile I had just finished getting over who was then my fourth ex.

I was spending the night with Lizzy only a few nights before her wedding as she was alone in her new apartment waiting for her groom to take her away. We were sharing an air mattress and talking quietly of personal things.

I was happy for her, genuinely happy for her. Yet I still broke down in tears when she apologized;

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I’m getting married before you.”

I hated myself for the hurt in my heart that I was trying not to feel. But her words were a sav that I didn’t realize I needed. It’s true. It hurt. It really hurt. Why was I having to go through so many heartbreaks, again and again and again and again? Yet here was my friend marrying the very first man who ever asked her to be his girlfriend.

I understood that no two lives are the same. That I am on a different path. That I wouldn’t want things to happen outside of perfect timing anyway. But it still stung. Even through the happiness and joy I wished for her, It stung. I felt petty, but it stung. I know God has the best in store for me, but the best in this moment was decidedly painful.

“I hate that that made me cry.” I managed to get out before looking away and taking in an unflattering sniffle. “I appreciate you, and it means more to me than it probably should.” I readjusted my head to look at her again. “But you know I would feel the same way if it were me. One of us had to be first.”

She had taken my hand to pray for me and I made another self depreciating joke about how it was the hand of a graphic designer who doesn’t moisturize, but Lizzy responded too quickly and too earnestly for my liking.

“It’s a hand that needs holding.”

Again my eyes welled in tears and honestly I don’t really remember what she prayed for me. But in those moments I felt seen and loved.

Four years later and Lizzy is fit to burst with her second son. She and her husband own a home and live a cozy life. My life situation is unchanged, with the exception of longer hair and some additional heartaches on my roster.

It's hard not to be jealous, even as I have come to accept the life she lives now, the life I thought I wanted, is not actually what I want. Even still we remain best friends. Her dedication to me leaves me overwhelmed at times, and I am grateful to have a friend who will help me organize my closet when the stressors of life get to be too much.

Through our eight years of friendship we have seen each other through significant highs and lows. From mental health diagnosis, break-ups, and health crisis, to graduations, promotions, and (her) wedding. At the heart of it all is the person who has truly seen me, has seen what makes me beautiful and what makes me repulsive. Lizzy knows me and truly loves me.

Heartbreak sucks and not having a life partner sucks, but knowing I have a true best friend brings me a quiet joy that is irreplaceable. I am seen, and I am loved.