We didn't start out as friends. Nosiree.
Once upon a time I moved up to Utah from Texas. A friend of mine came up a year later and we lived in my parents' basement for about a year after high school. We worked at a computer store in town, and got along pretty dang dandy.
Before long he met a young lady, they courted, and were married. During their courtship, my good friend didn't want to leave me behind as a friend. I was preparing to serve a mission, and being naturally socially backward didn't help. But he tried. At one time, I went a date with then Miss Sixline. We didn't get along at all. I thought she was snooty and she thought I was a jerk. (Well, she said I was a jerk. And... well, she was right.) We showed very little interest in each other for the remainder of my time before leaving for France. When I did finally leave, I never once thought she'd be such a huge part of my life when I got back.
Fast forward 2 years. Miss Sixline matured a little, and Mr. Sixline matured a lot, and still has far to go to catch Mrs. Sixline. My good friend, his wife, and their daughter came to see me at the airport and they coax Miss Sixline to show up. Put my ego, her looks, and her presence at the airport, and you have a guy who thinks Miss Sixline came to see Mr. Sixline. In reality, Miss Sixline just came to satisfy the demands of her sister and brother-in-law.
They say that missionaries either run from or to the ladies when they get back. I ran to them.
I began to ask Miss Sixline to dinner, and we began to date. The hardest part was when I came up to Utah State in order to pursue my studies. Miss Sixline came to visit quite a bit. One night, a Friday night, we were yakking away on the phone and I mentioned in passing how I really like blueberry muffins in the morning.
So the next morning, when Miss Sixline comes to visit, what did she bring? That's right. Blueberry muffins. Utah State is a good hour away from where she was living at the time, and yet she got up early enough to make me muffins and bring them to me. That was the most loving thing anyone had ever done for me.
As we dated, we grew to like each other more and more, and after a year of courtship and engagement, we were married. I haven't regretted any of it for a moment. Here we are, 3 years later, and I can't imagine myself ever being better friends with anyone else, and all other good friendships seem to pale in comparison. I love being married to my best friend.
I love you, Mrs. Sixline.