Have you ever blacked out at a party and woken up next to your best friend to find them wearing your clothes and you donning only a pair of boxers?  Did you also realize shortly thereafter that there was a small pile of puke on the floor and a significant amount of urine in your book bag?  If you haven’t already guessed by the sheer specificity of these circumstances, this has happened to me.  For most people, this would raise a very revealing line of questioning, and would probably constitute a serious reevaluation of the friendship in question.  For me, this was merely the first of a laundry list of compromising situations which cemented my undying love and loyalty to Melinda Ann Tucker, who is, without rival, my best friend in the world.

I met Lindy during our freshman year at Ohio State.  We didn’t take to each other immediately, but that was because I still lacked the self-confidence for social outreach, and she was fighting to overcome a slight personal fear of….well, me.  Apparently, I had a tendency to be a bit intimidating when I still had yet to get over “all of my wrestling bullshit,” as a friend of ours so eloquently put it.  Nevertheless, we overcame our subtle differences and bonded over a mutual lack of ambition, spending countless days playing Mario Kart and Wii Bowling, and countless nights drinking to our physical limitations.  We used to have a motto during that first year of college that went “It’s not a good night unless Lindy pukes.”   We had many good nights.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a best friend of the opposite sex, but I highly recommend it.  If for nothing more than to have someone to bounce ideas off of, especially when it comes to relationships. Navigating the female psyche is exponentially easier when you have consistent access to first hand source material. It’s like living in a foreign country with a personal translator who has not only mastered the language, but is an expert on culture and customs as well.  Not to mention, that despite our considerable amount of common interests, I never have to worry about her sleeping with my girlfriend….and even if she did, I doubt that anger would even register within the mushroom cloud of thoughts and emotions I would be likely to feel.

It wasn’t just our love of partying and daily flights from responsibility that served as the mortar for our friendship, but an unspoken bond developed between us; and I don’t mean ‘unspoken bond’ in the cliched sense of the phrase.  I mean that we established such a deep understanding of one another’s thought processes that we could literally communicate without speaking.  Hell, there have been plenty of times where she figures out what I’m thinking before I do.

Now, and for the rest of my life (or at least until she gets married) I have someone who will have my back regardless of whether I’m right or wrong. Although, if I do happen to be wrong,  she’ll pull me aside and privately inform me how out of line I am.  In Lindy Tucker, I have a friend who I can always count on, and although she may express (justified) concern for my mental health, will never (openly) judge me for whatever perversions my mind may conjure.

When the inevitable day comes, and Lindy does walk down the aisle, if I’m not directly across the altar, you can be damn sure that I’ll be right behind her. I don’t even care if I have to wear a dress. If that’s what it takes, I’ll be there.