I’m sitting in the library working on my summary notes for a music extension class, preparing for a viva voce — a kind of oral exam — tomorrow. My best friend comes up behind me and starts reading over my shoulder.

Best Friend: “Why are half your notes in Italian?”

Me: “…I’m actually secretly multilingual and never told you.”

Best Friend: “O… kay… Not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt.”

Me: “My guy, it’s music stuff.”

Best Friend: “OH!”

My best friend talks in his sleep. I’m staying over at his place. In the middle of the night, I hear a deep growling that gets louder and louder. At first, I think I’m having a nightmare, but then I open my eyes and look over to my friend. He’s sitting upright in his bed, eyes closed, and hands balled into fists and stretched up toward the ceiling.

Friend: “RAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Me: “[Friend]?”

My friend falls back onto his back and continues snoring. I, however, am wide awake. About five minutes later, he wakes up to go to the bathroom. When he comes back…

Me: “[Friend]? Were you a Super Saiyan just now?”

Friend: “Huh? Oh, yeah, that was a Genki Dama.”

And he went back to sleep. I couldn’t; I was laughing too hard. He didn’t remember anything at all the next day!

I have recently been prescribed general use glasses, and I am thrilled to have them. I am eager to show them off to everyone I know, so I call my best friend and tell her I’m coming over to let her see my surprise.

She has her garage open and is cleaning it out while her young daughter plays. When I pull up on the curb and get out of my car, the daughter comes running up to me and I pick her up to let her see my glasses. A moment later, my friend comes running from around her own car and then stops.

Friend: “You look so different with those on.”

Me: “Were you about to scream, ‘Put my child down! Help! Kidnapper!’?”

Friend: “I only saw you out of the corner of my eye, so I was about to attack you, yes.”

I’m an out-and-proud lesbian. I left the closet at age six and never looked back.

My best friend and I have been BFFs since we were toddlers, and my parents basically raised him and me as siblings — to the point that I call him “Bro” and he calls me “Sis.” I always introduce him as my big brother and he tells his friends I’m his little sister. It helps that he has a passing resemblance to my mom and me.

Singapore has this really dumb law that property can only be owned by people above thirty-five unless they are married. My best friend desperately wants to leave his toxic family and never return, so he needs to get hitched as soon as possible.

[Best Friend] found himself a girlfriend in similar straits, and they agreed to marry after he finished his mandatory military service and saved up enough to afford a flat. My mom also agreed to give him a loan and conveniently forgot to mention any interest or fixed repayment date.

Alas, his girlfriend found herself a better deal with someone else and summarily dumped him about a third of the way through his service, leaving him with a broken heart and even more desperate than before.

He had a backup plan, of course, but it was fairly unpalatable, as it involved renting an apartment with three other guys, and the only people he could find to agree with that were either horrendously immature or slobs.

My BFF is lamenting this conundrum while having dinner at my place, when I decide to “propose” to him right then and there, with the idea that we’ll divorce after he gets a flat. It takes a bit of convincing, but beggars can’t be choosers. My parents have to sweeten the deal by promising a really generous dowry, but he eventually says yes.

We begin preparing to get married. We tell all our friends about it, which is where things get silly.

EVERY SINGLE ONE of them reacts with shock and disgust. “Oh, my God, but he/she is your brother/sister! Isn’t that incest?!” Even some younger members of my family react that way.

It turns out we’ve thought of each other as siblings for so long that we’ve never told any of our friends that we aren’t actually blood-related. And my younger family members — including my actual younger brother — genuinely never realised he wasn’t actually my brother as, since as far back as they could remember, we always told them [Best Friend] was my brother.

After a whole motherload of explanations, the two of us are sitting on my bed and looking dumbstruck at each other.

Me: “I never realised just how many people we told that we were siblings.”

Best Friend: “Yeah, that was awkward. In all fairness, Sis, you’re literally one of the last people I saw myself marrying, so we never saw that as an issue.”

Me: “Huh. For me, you were literally the only guy I even remotely considered marrying. But I see your point, Bro. Never thought we actually would get hitched. You being my sperm donor was obvious, but actually marrying? Nope.”

Best Friend: “I know. It’s one thing to help you have kids. But to actually marry you?”

He shakes his head and lets out a long sigh.

Best Friend:  “Anyway, thanks again, Sis. I owe you big time.”

Me: “Eh, what are best-friends-slash-siblings for? Don’t mention it.”

We hug.

Best Friend:  “Love you, Sis.”

Me: “Love you, too, Bro.”

We stay like that for a while before we let go.

Best Friend: “But after we get married, we absolutely have to introduce ourselves as best friends or a couple. Calling ourselves siblings just causes way too much drama.”

Me: “Crap. That’s not gonna be easy. I’m so used to calling you my brother.”

Best Friend: “It’s not easy for me, either. I literally cannot see you as anything other than my little sister.”

Me: “Same. God, this is so awkward.”

Best Friend: “No kidding. Ah, well, just have to knuckle down and do it.”

I groan.

Despite everything, we get married a year later. We have a beautiful ceremony, swear our vows, and kiss. And every single person that attends says that it feels weird.

Me: “I always wanted to be a bride. I’m one now, but this doesn’t feel real.”

Best Friend: “If someone had told me that I’d be marrying you, I’d have laughed in their faces. I can’t believe we actually are doing it.”

Dad: “I seriously can’t see [Best Friend] as anything other than your brother.”

Mom: “It feels like two of my kids got married at the same time.”

Aunt: “This is so weird. The two of you look like cosplaying siblings.”

Cousin: “Someone please get me some brain bleach. The two of you kissing just looks beyond wrong to me.”

Uncle: “I cannot take this seriously. The two of you look nothing like a couple.”

Homophobic Grandma: “I’m happy you married a man, as is only proper, but even this feels wrong to me.”

Younger Brother: “I feel so much like Tyrion Lannister right now.”

Me: “Noted. I’ll name our son Joffrey, then.”

[Younger Brother] gives me the most horrified look.

Younger Brother: “I was joking!”

Lannister jokes aside, our marriage was perfect. It’s been a couple of years now, and my best friend now has his own flat and is far away from his toxic family. Meanwhile, the ex that dumped him underwent a really messy divorce and lost the flat, stranding her back at square one with nothing to show for it.

After fifth grade, I switch to a new sixth- to twelfth-grade school. This school doesn’t have an associated elementary, so it takes students from many different schools. That means most of us know few to none of our new classmates.

In the summer before we start, the school arranges pool parties so the students can get to know each other. Students are assigned alphabetically to a party. My portion of the alphabet happens to be overwhelmingly male — there are five girls and about twenty-five boys at the party.

Of course, we’re at an age where boys and girls avoid each other because of “cooties,” so I can’t hang out with any of the boys. Three of the girls are giggling over a teen magazine, which I have no interest in, and the other girl is in the pool. The two of us spend the whole party swimming together and get along great. We promise that we’ll be great friends come September.

After leaving the party, I realize something: I don’t know her name. We had name tags, but we didn’t wear them in the pool. And since we were supposed to be wearing name tags, we never introduced ourselves. With no other option, I decide I’ll just have to remember her face.

That, of course, doesn’t happen. The pool party is at the beginning of the summer, and by the time school starts, the only thing I remember about the girl is that she was wearing a green swimsuit.

Our lockers are also assigned alphabetically, so I look around on the first day of school to try to find Green Swimsuit Girl. I strike up a quick friendship with the girl whose locker is next to mine, and for a while, I suspect she might be the Green Swimsuit Girl. However, she never mentions the pool party, so I assume it’s not her. By the end of the first week, I still haven’t found her. I assume at that point that she switched schools.

Years pass, and my locker buddy becomes my best friend. Other friends come and go, but we always stay together. Before we know it, we’re about to graduate high school. [BFF] and I are planning a trip to an amusement park after graduation, and another friend has asked to come along. Once we’ve figured out what day we can borrow [BFF]’s parents’ car, we go to tell [Friend] the details.

BFF: “Hey, [Friend]! We figured out when we’re going to [Amusement Park]. It’s [date].”

Friend: “Hold on.” *Checks calendar* “Aw, I can’t come! My mom’s making me help out with [Little Brother]’s party that day.

Me: “Didn’t he just have his birthday party last week?”

Friends: “Yeah, it’s not for his birthday. It’s one of the sixth-grade pool parties. Remember those?”

BFF: “Oh, yeah! You know, I met a girl at mine who I swore was going to be my best friend, but then I forgot her face and name. I never figured out who she was because all I remembered about her was that she was wearing a blue swimsuit. I did think it was [My Name] for a bit, but obviously, it wasn’t.”

Me: “Wait a second! You’re Green Swimsuit Girl?!”

BFF: “You’re Blue Swimsuit Girl?!”

Me: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

BFF: “I was waiting for you to say something!”

Me: “So was I!”

Friend: “Oh, my God, guys, really? This is so you.”

It turned out we’d both forgotten each other’s faces and were waiting for the other to give a sign first. At least we can say that we picked each other as best friends twice over! And as for the amusement park trip, we moved it to another day and both helped [Friend] out with her little brother’s party.

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