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An Open Letter to a BFR (Best Friend Roommate)

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Bucknell chapter.

Dear BFR,

I call you my best friend and roommate, but to be honest, those names do not fit the role that you play. You play the role of homemaker when I am messy, stylist when I am going out, psychologist when I am going insane, and second mother for everything else. There is no role that you would not take on.

You are the Martha Stewart (before her insider trading days) of the room. Your arsenal of cleaning products would make any homemaker blush. While your side of the room looks like a Pottery Barn advertisement, you do not get mad that my side looks messier than an LF Store. You don’t complain when my laundry creeps across that invisible line that divides the two sides of our room.

You are my most trusted stylist. You allow your closet to be as wide open as your heart. There is not a single dress, blouse, or fracket that you have put off limits. You are patient with me when I try on 10 outfits and wind up wearing the first one I tried on.

You are a better psychologist than Sigmund Freud himself. Freud may be the father of psychoanalysis, but you BFR, you are the mother of pillow talk analysis. There is no topic that we haven’t touched on and no emotion we haven’t dealt with. You always know where my stories are going and you are always ready to offer golden advice. I would love to know the amount of sleep that we have both lost due to pillow talk.

You are like a second mother. I know that if I were sitting on the bench of life’s little league, you would still be there, cheering in the stands. You’d probably be driving me to the game in a minivan. The bumper stickers with the stick figure family members would be included.  You are my biggest fan, even when it comes to the little things. You’ve tucked me in, you’ve taken care of me when I’ve been sick, and you’ve even packed me snacks. If that doesn’t scream motherhood, I really don’t know what does.

You are the chicken to my noodle soup, the hash tag to my epic, and the buttons to our matching onesies. There is no one else that I’d rather make bad decisions with. It is for these reasons that I am proud to call you my best friend and roommate.

 

Love,Your BFR