On Wednesday night, one of my oldest and dearest friends in the world -- we are coming up on...twelve years? -- took me out to dinner. Belinda also invited Barrie, who is playing the role of Maid of Honor (or Ill-Repute, depending on who you ask) at her wedding, scheduled for next fall. The two of them, all giggles and wicked grins, pulled out a test for me to take, there in the middle of the restaurant -- the aim of which was to determine how well I know her. After totally biffing the question about where she got the scar on her arm (broken bone from being knocked over), but recovering nicely with the bonus question of what flavor of ice cream I licked off of her after a night of drinking at The Purple Martini (coffee), and laughing about what color of Wet 'N' Wild lipstick she favored in high school (Beat-Me-Bruise-Me-Purple-Brown) -- Belinda pulled out an envelope containing the above photo -- at the same time that wonderful Mike (of course we were at his restaurant!) popped out with a premeditated bottle of celebratory Veuve Clicquot. I am particularly fond of my graceful, swan-like neck.
I don't think I've ever been more delighted and excited and honored in my life. This girl is someone who's known me through more incarnations than I can count. She was there when I wrecked my little yellow Subaru, and she helped me detach the panel and beat the dent out with a rubber mallet so my mom wouldn't see. She got her mom to take mine out for drinks (a lot of drinks) when I came out of the closet. She invited me into her family that Christmas Eve my family wasn't talking to me, and we tried to start a fire in her fireplace until I cheered up. She was why I visited New York, and why I fell in love with it, and moved here. She introduced me to everyone she knew in the city, who became my entire world of friends. She is my Marquise, my Heidi, the mother of my tragic children, my emerald smuggler, my fashion model. My life would be completely unrecognizable today if she hadn't been in it.
I have seen Belinda grow from a wonderful, goofy, teenage girl into an absolutely amazing, confident, talented woman who is about to get married. She is my personal definition of the word "friend." There is not a single person in the world I would rather be there for on their wedding day; and the fact that she thinks well enough of me to ask is the highest compliment I have ever received. I love this girl, and I can hardly wait to watch her walk down the aisle.
And no, I will not, in fact, be wearing a dress.