When you think about your best friend getting married, it's scary. Kind of a heart-stopping "Am I having a seizure?" moment. You worry that you won't like her betrothed and you'll cringe your way through the wedding and speak to each other less until gradually you lose contact with her except a yearly card at Christmas.
When S announced her engagement to CW, I didn't have those thoughts. Sure, the basic idea is a little strange--my is going to be married? Weird. But if I took up witchcraft and did some sort of spell to make S the perfect man...CW is pretty much who I'd come up with. From day one he fit into her life so nicely that it seemed they'd always been together. He embraced me with open arms, as few will do. He said all the right things and behaved in such a way as to give me nothing to complain about. (And you know I am a good complainer.) Here is a man who walked into my life and plays with her cats and loves breakfast for dinner as much as she does and makes sure we have lots of " time" when I visit. I stood back, observing and gaping at him and silently hoping he wouldn't do anything to tarnish this image.
You two are sickeningly, disgustingly adorable together. The saccharine nature of your relationship leaves me feeling sick to my stomach. I am nauseated by the sight of your affection, by the sound of your pet names and endearments. When you go into couple mode in the kitchen while cooking, I find a seat near the restroom because I can actually feel the bile rising in my throat. Your -wedding gift to me of a " bucket" may have been a joke to you--but it has actually been the most useful thing you could have gotten me.
I don't have to wish you a lifetime of this disappointing, sappy behavior. I know it will happen whether or not I approve. However, in this rare case I do.