I Jokingly Asked My Friend to Marry Me… and She Said, “I Thought You’d Never Ask.
Testing the Waters of Love
“And now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I reached for her hand.
I marveled at how such a familiar touch could suddenly feel so new. “Now I’m still afraid.”
“But I’m more afraid of not knowing what we could be.” She intertwined her fingers with mine.
“So what do we do now?” “I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I’ve never turned my best friend into my girlfriend before.” “Fiancé,” she corrected with a small smile.
“You did propose after all.” “That wasn’t a real proposal,” I protested.
“When I really propose it’ll be much better than blurting it out during the Princess Bride.” “So you’re planning to propose again someday?”
“I’m planning to do everything right with you,” I said and meant it. The transition from friends to something more wasn’t as seamless as romantic movies would have you believe.
We had our first fight 3 weeks later over something so trivial I can’t even remember what started it. But I do remember that we both fell back into old patterns.
We said things we knew would hurt because we knew each other’s vulnerabilities so well. “This is exactly why we shouldn’t have crossed this line,” Emma said, tears in her eyes.
“We’re ruining everything.” “Maybe we are,” I shot back, hurt and defensive.
“Maybe some people are just meant to be friends.” She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.
In the past, one of us would have stormed out and cooled off. We would have then returned as if nothing had happened.
But this was different now. This wasn’t just a friendship spat; it was our first relationship crisis.
“Emma, wait!” I called after her. “Please don’t go.”
She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not just friends anymore and we can’t act like we are.” “We can’t just walk away and pretend this fight didn’t happen tomorrow.”
She turned to face me, her expression guarded. “So what do you suggest?”
“I suggest we stay and figure it out.” “Even if it’s hard, even if it’s messy, because what we have is worth fighting for.”
She hesitated, then slowly removed her hand from the doorknob. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I’m scared that if we can’t make this work, I’ll lose my best friend too.” I crossed the room to her.
“I’m scared too.” “But I think maybe that’s okay.”
“Maybe being scared together is better than being safe apart.” That night we talked for hours, really talked in a way we never had before.
We talked about our fears and expectations. We discussed the weight of our history and the uncertainty of our future.
It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t the last difficult conversation we would have. But it was honest and it was a beginning.
6 months into our relationship, Emma received an offer for her dream job. It was teaching at a prestigious university on the opposite coast.
In our friendship days, we would have celebrated her success. We would have promised to visit each other often, accepting the distance as an inevitable part of growing up.
But now the prospect of separation loomed like a shadow over our newfound happiness. “You have to take it,” I told her.
Even as my heart rebelled against my words, I said, “It’s everything you’ve worked for.” “But what about us?” she asked.
“Long-distance relationships are hard enough for established couples.” “We’re still figuring this out.”
“We’ll make it work,” I promised with more confidence than I felt. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for 8 years.”
“3,000 miles isn’t going to change that.” But privately I worried.
Our relationship was still so new, so fragile in some ways. Could it withstand the strain of distance?
Would Emma meet someone else, someone who could be there for her in ways I couldn’t? Would I become just a voice on the phone, a face on a screen gradually fading from her daily life?
The night before she was scheduled to fly out, we sat on the floor of her half-packed apartment. We were surrounded by boxes and the ghosts of our shared history.
“Ask me to stay,” she said suddenly. “What?”
“Ask me to stay and I will.” I looked at her.
This was the woman I’d loved in one way or another for nearly a decade. I wanted more than anything to be selfish.
I wanted to ask her to choose me over her dreams, but I knew that wasn’t love. “I can’t do that,” I said.
“I won’t do that to you.” “Why not?”
“Because I love you too much to be the reason you give up something you’ve wanted for so long.” “And because if I asked and you stayed, someday you might resent me for it and I couldn’t bear that.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “So what do we do?”
I took a deep breath. “I think… I think I come with you.”
She stared at me. “What?”
“I can work remotely.” “My company’s been pushing for more flexible arrangements anyway.”
“It wouldn’t be right away.” “I’d need a couple of months to sort things out.”
“But I could join you.” “You do that? Leave everything here?”
“Emma, you are everything.” “The rest is just geography.”
She launched herself into my arms with such force that we both toppled backward onto the floor. “Are you sure?” she asked, her face hovering above mine.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I told her and realized it was true.
