I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to marry him one day.
Regardless of any squishy feelings that most likely will not exist in my future.
Because he likes the same stuff as me, and he laughs when I’m actually funny, and he begrudgingly admits when I’m being clever, and calls me out when I’m just being an idiot, and he’s more than okay with the fact that I am occasionally mildly disgusting, and takes care of me when I’m crazy, and he only slightly judges me when I act a fool, and he deals with my dramatic lip-syncing of anything, and he makes fun of me when it’s okay to and won’t hurt my feelings.
And that’s what best friends do.
At the end of it all, isn’t that what we want?
A pal who can just hang out and be awesome with you and likes the same stuff and makes sure your cats don’t eat your face when you die.
