A Best Friend’s Wedding

Tomorrow one of my best friends gets married and I’m not invited. 

I met him a year and a half ago when he joined our small company. He was 33, outgoing, attractive. I joked with all my friends that I was in trouble since I tend to crush easily. But he’d just started dating a new girl and I was determined to be professional, so with our boundaries set we began what has become easily my closest friendship of the last year.

It didn’t take him long to make me his fast friend, and within weeks I was devising ways to keep him (and myself) on track when he felt like chatting and I needed to work. Some days I succeeded and others I failed, allowing the 10 minute break to turn into hours as we argued over politics or attempted to define what happiness is. He could ask me anything and I’d tell him the truth, I know exactly who he is and where his decisions come from. I’ve cried in front of him more than a few times, he’s told me things he’s said he’s never talked about.

Now a year later we still talk daily. We pepper work rants in with life status updates, connecting over calls, emails, texts, Slack, video chat. I send Gifs or he shares a YouTube video. I go out of my way to meet him in the office when he needs something, he’ll work late if I need help with a report. I tell my other coworkers what great work he’s doing, he tells me I’m valued and making a difference.

He’s also engaged. The woman he’d started seeing when he starting working with us is much older than him and made it very clear that she was looking for a serious commitment and a condensed timeframe. He’d just bought a house and had never dated anyone like that before, so he made a choice to be ready too, deciding that he wasn’t happy before so he might as well jump in and check all the boxes as soon as possible (house, wife, child). In less than a year they got engaged and planned their wedding for a few months later. He’s thrilled and I’m happy for him, though I’m definitely concerned that he may like the idea of this life more than the reality of it.

I feel protective of him. He’s deep in debt from a Masters program and buying his home, but she still demanded a crazy expensive ring and has refused to move in with him until more of his house is remodeled. She doesn’t connect well with his friends, so he’s lost touch, and while I’m sure she’s great in many ways I definitely see how much of those burdens he takes on alone. I wish he had more of an equal partner, but in his eyes this is how it should be, he the man taking care of his wife. He knows what he’s doing, and has decided to choose it. I can’t fault him or her for that.

Over my birthday I spent a week in California on work trip, surrounded by the male coworkers who have become my closest friends over the last few years. During the day our inside jokes abounded, we rolled our eyes and sent funny texts, high fived and made sure to give each other credit. At night we reverted to bored teenagers, driving with the roof off our jeep and wandering the dark city streets talking and wasting time.

The last night of the trip we got really high and leaned against each other in the back of the car. I felt more than friendship as the wind blew through my hair, and while I knew it wasn’t something either of us had an intention of ever acting on, it was nice.

A few days later on a long drive with my friend I told her about him, and the great week we’d just had, about how well we get along and how much I appreciate our friendship. Her response was to tell me to call him and try to break up the wedding. I was angry, defensive that she could think I’d ever consider hurting him that way or be delusional enough to think that what he and I have is even sort of comparable to a relationship.

I know she was coming at it from a place of desperately just wanting me to date anybody, but still, it hurt to tell her about what I know is a great (and not always black and white) friendship and have it be turned into a stepping stone to something different. Like friendship isn’t enough.

At the same time, in the last few weeks things have noticeably changed. He’s asked me more in depth questions about my dating history and plans, told me more about his. He wanted to know if I remembered that a month or two before he started working with us our boss had told him about me. That he’d tried to set us up and that I’d shot it down before we’d had a chance to meet. I did remember, and I told him I hadn’t considered it since our boss was doing it mostly for his own amusement and I didn’t want to play into it. I changed the subject after that, not wanting to find ourselves in the, “what could have been,” conversation that has always been unsaid.

A few days later a customer had a crisis and we decided that we had to fly there and spend two days onsite helping them through it. He and I were together every minute as we walked them through how to solve their own problems, and when we got to the LAX airport early for our flight home he decreed that we needed tequila shots and beer to celebrate. An hour later we were drunk, and I casually looked at my phone as I agreed to a second glass of wine and he ordered his third round. I laughed as I saw our flight had finished boarding and was set to take off in less than ten minutes. He paniced and put his hands up, saying we’d missed it and that we’d be in so much trouble. I told him I’d pay the check and he should run to the plane, repeating it probably too loudly too many times before he actually ran off. We were the last two people on the plane, texting each other “holy shit!” and laughing to ourselves as the doors closed and turned our phones to airplane mode.

He lives near me so we shared an Uber back to his place and he said he’d take me home from there. The Uber driver was from Iraq so the two of us bonded with him as we shared what Arabic words we knew (I know habibi from Farah and inshallah from Bluebell). He told us we were a beautiful couple and we corrected him saying that in two weeks one of us would be married to someone else.

It was midnight when we arrived at his place and after the few days we’d had I agreed to a tour of his home renovation. He beamed as he walked me through his house, showing me the walls he’d taken out, the plumbing he’d redone, the kitchen cabinets and ceiling that he would take out this weekend. He’d poured his own concrete for his patio, “This is my favorite square,” and re-wired his entire garage, “I did this section while on mute during a customer call.” He picked a piece of rosemary for me from his garden. It was 1:30am on a Thursday morning when he dropped me home. I had fun.

Two weeks later and he gets married tomorrow. I’m not upset that I’m not there, not dissed or jilted, but I definitely do feel something. One of my closest friends is taking a huge step forward in his life and I’m not supposed to be there. 

I’m sure part of what I’m feeling has to do with the movies I’ve seen about weddings and what that inevitably always does to the dynamic of male/female friendships. I’m expected to change after this and so is he; wandering around alone together at night for example is probably no longer allowed. I feel mildy guilty now for the in depth talks we have without his fiance present, I’m sure that feeling will grow once she becomes his wife.

But I think what I’m mostly feeling is how weird it is to know and trust and bond with someone and still know that one day it will end. If this wedding doesn’t change things, a job change or a move will. He’s a great friend, but he is also a coworker and as such there will always be an expectation that we don’t owe each other anything and could leave each other’s lives no questions asked.

If we were real friends one day I’d connect with his parents or bond with his wife, I’d be able to call him to just to talk, or take a vacation with him. But we aren’t friends, we’re coworkers, and no matter how well we get along, on paper we’re expected to end.

I’ve felt this way about coworkers before, sad to leave them as one of us moved on and weighed our options of staying in touch. But we did it anyway, making new connections and filling the spaces they left behind. What an absurd world we live in that we spend the majority of our lives at work with people that one day we’re just expected to leave. And yet we all do it. And yet it is always okay. 

In this particular instance I know I love him more than I’ve loved most coworkers. He’s been a major part of my life for the last year, and it might even continue that way for another few, but we have an expiration date. And as much as I’ve enjoyed the moments we’ve shared together, I also know when it comes down to it I won’t fight for them to continue.

I don’t want more from him than I have now. And I know that I’ll be fine with less and one day none. But tomorrow my coworker and default best friend gets married and I’m a little sad I’m not supposed to be there.