This Is Not A Love Story. Or Is It?

If at the end of this piece you conclude that this is a love story, I will not mind at all. But I did not set out to make it such. I just figured I owed it to this special someone to say a few things about this special someone.

The special someone is none other than my one and only Busola Osun. I mentioned her a little in a piece I wrote about girlfriends last year, but this time, I am dedicating this entire piece to her. Yes, I have that much to say about her.

You see, Busola has been my best friend for the longest time. I am not writing this piece because I woke up on the right side of the bed today; neither have I fallen hopelessly in love with her. And in case you are wondering, I am not high on any kind of drug either – at least none that I know of. Rather, I am writing this because in a little while (October 27^th 2007), I will be handing her over to her new best friend, her husband. It saddens me to know that I will no longer be her best friend, but rather her best girlfriend. But such is life. We must grow, and we must move on.

As her maid of honor, I will be making a speech on that blessed day. The problem is that I do not know how I can possibly give a sincere speech without crying my eyeballs out. I am a person who has more guts in the written word; when I write, you cannot hear my voice or see my face, so I can write exactly what I feel. It is different when I have to stand in front of her and hundreds of other people to give my heartfelt speech. It is because of this reason that I have decided to write this down here.

Busola, you should know that as I write this paragraph, I cannot help but cry. I am so glad you are not here to witness it. Please do not call me to make fun of me either. Well, who am I kidding? I know you will do so as soon as you finish reading. Before you go off to your husband’s house, I just want you to know that you are the best friend a girl could ever ask for. You have been there for me every step of the way. We have had our rough times, but your presence in my life has made a significant difference. Even though you are only going to be an hour away from me, it feels like you are leaving me. I know I constantly joke about moving in with you, but half the time, I wish I could. The problem is that the walls in American houses are thin.

I will no longer be able to drop by your house without calling ahead. I will no longer be able to sleep on your bed with you (alright people, get your mind out of the gutter, please!), and I will no longer be able to call your phone unceasingly at three in the morning for no reason. I guess I could look forward to your daughter being born and named after me. I know I joke about it all the time, but underneath those jokes lie the truth. You know me well enough to know that I mask my feelings with humor. Most times, I really do find things funny, but sometimes I just use my humor to mask my actual feelings.

I am on the phone with you right now, and you are seriously bugging. I wish you would just get off the phone and let me work on this. I wish you would get off the phone and let me cry all I need to cry; you are hindering my tears from falling down. I am really only half-listening to everything you are saying. And your chewing is seriously messing up my flow. Good, you are off the phone now.

Back to what I was saying…I know this is a weird way to convey my feelings. Perhaps, I might be sending the wrong message to a few people, but I guess I just realized just how much I will miss you. And just how much I love you, of course. Tomorrow, I will be at your house to help you move your things, and I hope to God that I keep my emotions in check. I really would not like to cry, but you know how fast my tears flow.

I wish you all the best in your marriage. You know what we have both prayed for, and I know your fiancé is a wonderful man. I am glad you found him, and I trust he will take very good care of you. If there is any kind of blessing a girl owes her best friend, then you should know that you have it all; I give it all to you. Your joy is my joy; I know you know that. And when you hurt, I hurt, which is why I always cry with you when you have a problem. Of course, it is pitiable that you usually end up consoling me over your own problem, but it is all part of the love, right?

As I stated earlier, I am writing this because I know I will not be able to say all the things I have stated here during my speech without crying. And considering the fact that you are paying the make-up artist to do our make-up on that day, I do not think you would appreciate me ruining my make-up. Maybe if I picture your fiancé running around in a mini pink coat and hot pants, it will help me keep my emotions in check. But then again, that might not be such a good idea as it might end up making me laugh uncontrollably. I will not be bold enough to tell your guests why I am laughing hysterically when I should be giving a speech. Besides, your father might finally carry out his threat and have me placed in a psychiatric unit.

Busola, you should know that I have nothing but good thoughts for you and of you. You should know that as long as I live, I will remain your sister. I look forward to attending your children’s wedding and reminiscing on our lives together. If God shines on us enough, our children just might marry each other! Perhaps, I could betroth my future daughter to your future son. By His Grace, sixty years from now, you and I will still be doing the same things together; the only difference is that we will be going at a much slower pace in order not to dislocate our joints. Sixty years from now, I am guessing you will not be able to jump up at every scene in a Nigerian movie. Hopefully, you will also be too tired and sleepy to talk through the entire movie. The most important thing is that you are there. With me.

I cannot wait to tell our children about our history. There is a certain kind of familiarity that comes with time. You and I already have that familiarity; that explains why we can communicate without saying much. But imagine what it would be like sixty years from now! I cannot even begin to fathom the beauty of such a friendship. I have always been there to lend a shoulder to you when you need it; things will not change now. They really will never change. You will always be my sister from another mother.

As you become Mrs. Somebody, please do not forget who you are and where you came from. I trust you will love your husband the way God wants a wife to love her husband. I trust you will love him with everything you have. I trust you will make him your King, next to God. Do not forget He is your other half. Do not forget you were made from him. Do not forget he is your Adam. Keep him happy always. Give him reasons to constantly thank God for having you. I know you are more than capable of doing your part, so never neglect it.

Olubusola Osun, you are beautiful both inside and out. I still think you are the craziest girl I have ever met, and I still think you have a low IQ, but you are still very beautiful. In case you are wondering, I still think he is only marrying you because of your low IQ. And yes, of course, I still do solemnly believe that a few screws are missing from your head. Either that, or your mother dropped you on your head. Honestly, I think both happened. That is the only plausible reason for your craziness.

So my lovely, beautiful, crazy, mentally-challenged best friend, this is my way of saying I love you, and I miss you already. This is my way of saying good luck with your marriage. And lastly, this is my way of saying ‘I love you dearly, but I am too chicken and emotional to say it in front of hundreds of guests without crying and looking like a big baby.’ Finally, I know you hate this word, but may I just say you are the bomb diggity!

In my head, this is not a love story. Or is it?