To the guy marrying my best friend

There are two types of people on the planet. Those who can be happy despite everything possibly horrible happening to them. Laughter, a light heart, and a bright smile are second nature to these gifted souls. The second kind is those who find flaws. In almost anything that borders on being perfect. Borders. They are those who find a pot of treasure in their backyard and are sad.

About the grime.

Sticking to the pot.

She once wrote these lines, claiming that she’s the latter kind, and adding that she wages wars on the world inside her head, making her her own worst enemy. When I read those lines, there was only one wish in my head: that she could see herself through my eyes.

Our lives intersected in a high school classroom in 2008. Mutual dislike authored the first chapter of our story. My life also intersected with two other people: one the year before, and another the year after. Since then, we’ve all grown up with each other, and grown into each other too. We don’t merely feature in each other’s stories, we’re the protagonists. What follows is from all of us.

Firstly, congratulations! You’ve made the best possible choice.

She might not be the kind of “pretty” you’d double tap on Instagram; she might not conform to societal standards of a non-existent waist and skinny legs with a thigh gap. She won’t make you slam into a door when you’re walking past her.

But over the years, as the people who have gotten to know her, allow us the indulgence of enlightening you. When you take the effort to get to know her, when you patiently wait for her wall to come down, brick by brick, and she lets you in, you’ll see the cosmos shimmering through her eyes: passion, drive, wit, emotional intelligence, fun and the ability to have a discourse about anything.

You know what that makes her? Rare. Sustainable. Gorgeous. Real.

I’ve picked her up on a rainy night after her scooter broke down. I’ve listened to her sing in happiness. I’ve made her bury her face in her hands because she was embarrassed to be riding pillion with a man-child. I’ve had screaming matches with her to decide which song plays next on the stereo. I’ve been called an asshole by her more times than DiCaprio swears in a Scorsese movie.

I’ve held her crying, when she didn’t believe it was possible for anyone to love her, and I cried silently as her tears dampened my t-shirt. I’ve hugged her, laughing, and laughed with her. When you listen to the sound of her laughter, I guarantee that you’ll see how easy it’s always been for us to love her.

We’ve seen her enraged.

We’ve seen her depressed.

We’ve seen her ecstatic.

We’ve seen her calm.

We’ve seen her desolate.

We’ve seen her think.

We’ve seen her dance.

We’ve seen her love.

And we’ve loved her through it all: we’ve loved her wild, and we’ve loved her soft.

Now, she’s chosen to love you, and to let you love her.

Expect resistance from all of us. We’ll be seething in jealousy. It’s only natural, because what took us a decade has taken you only a month.

She’s the one that all of us will fight for, but none will fight about. She’s the touch that calms the oceans; she is the shine of the stars. Her voice lulls the world to sleep, as her curls weave into the blanket that keeps it warm and comfortable. She’s our common favourite, and that’s a lot of pressure on you. Be very afraid of hurting her, because if you do, you invoke our wrath, which is nature’s own; you won’t stand a chance.

We will know when her lips tremble, we can sniff the petrichor before the storm that her falling tears will lead to, a day before it happens. We are the valves of her heart, and the blood in her veins, and we will know when she’s in distress, even if her mind tries to betray us.

Don’t, however, let that worry you. We’ll get to know you and your friends. We’ll be among the people happiest for you, and for her. If you treat her right, our love for her will grow into our love for you too.

Perhaps this marriage will create a distance, which we will respect, but when different time zones and depressing winters did not come in the way of loving her, when time and nature, combined, couldn’t dilute the strength of our love for her, please understand that you won’t even come close.

You’ll never be able to love her like we do. That is a fact.

All we ask is that you love her the way we know we can’t, and we should get along just fine.

Welcome to the family.