Dear Best Friend(s), also sometimes referred to as: my child(ren),
Just because my stereotype is to hold your hair while you puke, doesn’t mean I want to. You know what? Let’s actually start there. When I tell you, “you probably shouldn’t take another shot,” DO NOT take another sip of alcohol. Listen! I’m not doing this to embarrass you, or to show you my superiority as the “mom.” No. I’m just saying that drinking that next shot leads to one of three, very unidealistic, outcomes.
1. I get angry.
Fine! You want to be those girls tonight? Let’s be those girls. Shot for shot. Let’s go. You’re going to pay for this. We’re exactly one and a half shots in before we’re sobbing in the bathroom about how much we love each other. I mean, yes, I will always love you. But don’t make me prove it with my tears and my eventual caving on the argument over who’s paying for the ride home.
2. I will “mom” you so hard, you’ll wish we didn’t even come to this party. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?” “Can you imagine the hangover you’re going to have?” “Remember how you said I can decide when we go home?” “WWJD?” “I’m making an executive decision. We are leaving.” “No you cannot say goodbye to anyone, the Lyft is here.” “March, missy!”
3. Here we are. You took the shot. Now you’re sick, and my stereotype lives on. *holds hair.*
See, if you had only listened to me, we would have both left happily. Even though you had to leave behind what’s his name. Whatever his name is, let’s get something straight on the subject – nine times out of ten, I’m right about him. You’re blinded by your lust. If I tell you he’s trouble, please listen to my bullet points. Consider my record of being right, and finally conclude that he’s trouble.
When I tell you you’re acting crazy, it’s because I know that you’re overreacting. Why would I tell you you’re out of line? Because I know you really like him, and we both want this to work out for you. Let me ghost write your texts – I swear to you I know how to handle the situation. And if I’m ever wrong or we’re ever wrong – the ice cream, the wine, the movies, whatever you need – is on me.
It’s on me because I love you, and because you are incapable of planning. Like, frustratingly incapable. Listen to me! If I put us on a schedule, please trust my skills. I have yours and everyone else’s schedules memorized. I enjoy prioritizing and planning – let me! Let’s be honest, if I wasn’t shoving you out of the door we would literally watch Netflix into all hours of the night.
I admire your free spirit, I really, honestly, cross my heart, do – but just know when you get side-tracked for too long, I’m putting us back on course.
And lastly, listen to me when I say that I’m not getting out of bed to come downtown – or anywhere for that matter. BUT! PLEASE call me if you get stranded and need a ride. And always text me when you get home.
With all the love in the world,
Your Best Friend: most often referred to as Mom.