Do you — or did you ever — have a Best Friend? Do you believe in the idea of one person whose friendship matters the most? Tell us a story about your BFF (or lack thereof).
There are a few particular BFF’s that I could write about, but I think I’ll focus on a past BFF – ‘D’.
In a nutshell, we were inseparable. We always referred to each other as our ‘husband’, well, ‘hub-hub’ for short. We really did have the perfect relationship. It was a marriage made in heaven without anything sexual to create dramas. Also, because we were into different types of guys, there was no chance that we’d end up sleeping with the same guy.
We spent our days at work emailing each other, texting each other and calling each other – it was constant, then we’d end up catching up in person a couple of times a week and to see a movie or just hang out etc. I remember so many nights spent at each other’s places, especially when he lived in Prahran in ‘the Fishbowl’ which was an apartment on the corner of a very prominent intersection in a very trendy suburb. I’d usually meet him in the city and we’d go back to his place together and grab dinner, or go back to his place, dump our bags and then wander down the street to the movies before I had to catch a late tram back home to Camberwell.
He was my entire world, and I was his. As we got older, our bond grew stronger and when I moved to Prahran in my early twenties, we literally did EVERYTHING together. To the point where if he started dating a guy, then I had to meet them for approval, because D and I were kind of like a package deal – if you’re gonna date D, then you need to like me as well because I’ll always be part of the picture. However, in saying that, both D and I ended up deviating from that school of thought and ended up both dating guys who were so wrong for us, but we were always there for each other to pick up the pieces and hold hands and offer shoulders to cry on and provide counsel to each other. We knew everything about each other and we knew the ins and outs of each other’s relationships.
We met each other parents and stayed at their houses. We’ve done road trips together. We shared so many experiences together, even thinking about some of them now makes me crack up with laughing because we always had such a blast together. We share(d) the same sense of humour; and a lot of our conversations would include almost too many pop culture references and quotes – we really just had our own language. We were so in tune with each other it was like having a twin, just without the biological aspect.
Then he went overseas.
I remember the day that he told me he was planning to go overseas. The first thing that went through my mind was where am I going to put all my stuff – because naturally when he said he was going overseas, I interpreted it as ‘WE’ are going overseas for a few months. Without hesitation, I got so excited about it, but then when I got home and sat down to actually think about it, it quickly became clear that I simply could not afford to go overseas, let alone save enough money to survive over there for a few months, travelling around Europe.
I still remained so incredibly excited and slightly nervous for D as the days passed and it got closer and closer to his departure. I remember a couple of nights prior, I was talking to him on the phone for hours (as we usually did), and I just got so overwhelmed about him leaving that after I hung up the phone, I broke down in tears and cried for what felt like hours.
The night before he left, he had a big farewell party which was a lot of fun, but the funny part was that everybody who had spoken to him about leaving we’re all asking about how I was holding up; how I was feeling. It was quite nice of them because they all knew that we were practically the same person. Then at some point later that night I ended up in a bathroom of some bar we were at, crying in a bathroom because it was merely hours before he was going. Despite telling myself that it wasn’t forever, this was somebody that I spoke to practically 24/7 and to not have that was quite distressing.
I remember saying goodbye at the airport and we all cried, and I couldn’t stop hugging him. I didn’t want him to go and be didn’t want to leave me either, but we knew that this was going to be an amazing experience for him and little D needed to spread his little wings.
After he walked through the doors of the international terminal I walked off on everybody and started bawling in the middle of the bloody airport. I felt numb and hollow. Can we say separation anxiety, much?!?
Due to his limited internet access, I heard from him at the most random times. But I remember one particular night, it was about 4-5am and he called me in tears telling me how much he missed me and how much he hated his trip and how the girl he was with was being such a moll etc. He was staying in a backpackers and was running low on cash because he’d been paying for this other girl who kept promising she would pay him back. I ended up calling him back and we spoke for quite some time. I remember hanging up the phone wishing I could just be there to make it all better, and then I realised just how expensive that phone call was going to be. Eek!
The days passed and the silence between emails got longer and longer and I remember the day he said he was coming back. BEST. DAY. EVER!! I remember being in the car with another of his friends on the freeway to he airport and I couldn’t focus on what she was saying because I was just too excited about having my hub-hub home again. That piece of my soul that had been missing was finally returning and I’d be able to feel whole again.
I remember we finally got back to his place and waited for the girl to get picked up, and as soon as she left, he launched into such a tirade about how horrible she was during the whole trip and how she was practically a completely different person as soon as they landed in England. It was all downhill from there.
We chatted for a few hours and then I figured he needed a sleep, he was tired and cranky. I headed home feeling happy to have him back, and was glad life was going to return to normal.
Unfortunately it didn’t.
Instead of hearing from him multiple times every hour, I’d be lucky if I heard from him once a day, and soon it became once every few days. I remember it taking a couple of weeks before we actually managed to catch up in person, and it really bothered me. How do you go from being so close with somebody to then not hearing from them for days at a time? Maybe he was just over it? Maybe he was just busy? Maybe he saw some of the mistakes I was making and didn’t want to be the one to pick up the pieces when it inevitably turned to shit, despite all his warnings?! I didn’t know what the cause was, but the reality was our relationship had changed quite dramatically, and despite my best efforts, it just wasn’t happening.
We still had our catch ups but they became limited to things like going to be movies, and even then we still had a great time together (or so I thought) but there was still an elephant in the room that neither of us were acknowledging. A few more weeks of cancelled plans and I finally forced myself to accept the fact that it was over. The person D was had left the building and I was on my own.
We just grew apart which is really sad, and even now, years later, I still miss him quite a lot. The last time I saw him was about 2 years ago, and we literally bumped into each other. While it was great to see him again so randomly, I was running late for an appointment and couldn’t stop to talk to him and it was just so awkward.