When you're younger, girls are taught that boys have cooties and other girls are the only true friends you'll have in life just as long as you jump rope with them every day. Essentially, I did listen to that until I turned 13 years old. I began to like boys and eventually love a few. I dated and I broke up and I dated again. To me, that was what boys were good for. When I got to college, I quickly learned to stay away from the crazy girls and befriend the normal ones. I hung out in my room and mostly just did homework. I joined a sorority and I joined a few clubs, everything seemed normal and my sisters were my closest friends.

My sophomore year, I was hanging out with a few of my sisters when I met a guy. At first glance, it seemed like we would never be friends. The look of fear and confusion in his eyes when he met me wasn't the greatest first impression. Eventually, I would come to find out he was extremely afraid of me and didn't really want much to do with me in general. This was going well.

Fast forward about two weeks and we began to talk and get the occasional coffee at the campus cafe. Things were better, not by much, but they were better. We exchanged numbers and hung out more often. We would go to the library for hours on end, or we would walk around campus when it was warm enough.

A month goes by and one night he calls me. I pick up the phone to find that he sounds scared, nervous, or upset. I couldn't pinpoint his emotion. Like a good friend, I grabbed my jacket and ran to his room at 1 a.m. He's upset, that's for sure and ready to pretty much take his anger out on anything around. At this point, I've only known this kid for about a month... how was I supposed to handle this situation?

I sit down on one of the nearby couches and try and make heads or tails of what he's saying. He's upset, and he called me. That means something right?

Finally he sits, silent and staring. I look at him for a beat, reach over and grab his hand. He looks surprised but doesn't pull away. I tell him it's okay, and essentially it is. I hold his hand for a little longer as he breathes in and out and finally he says thank you. I say, "Don't mention it," and that's that.

We leave the building and I head home to a night of studying and sleep. We hug, say our goodbyes and part ways. In that moment of walking away, I realized that this was my guy. This was the guy I wanted to spend my life with. Not the guy I would marry or have children with, but he was my one best friend. The guy I could come to with school or relationship advice. He would be the one I could always count on to be a babysitter or best man. He would be the one to hold me when a family emergency occurs or when I'm crying so hard I can't stand anymore.

I thank God for giving me him because without him college could have been a very lonely place. Without him, life would be less funny, dramatic, crazy, loud, and there would be far less unnecessary road trips. So to my guy best friend: thank you for choosing me, and for always looking after me. Thank you for texting me good morning and good night, for being the parent I desperately needed at times, and for not letting me do that next shot of vodka (or letting me when I really need to). Thank you, Richard, for always being my sidekick.