When I was 15 I had the biggest crush on a boy in my youth group. We were destined to be together, I just knew it. And so for years I waited patiently for him to realize that he loved me, too. This boy had a best friend who always seemed to be around. I couldn't stand the best friend. He was obnoxious and brooding and conceited. I didn't like him because he thought he was better than everyone else.
Fast forward three years, a bunch of us were out somewhere and we were all talking, I can't even remember about what, and I said something witty (which I often do) and everyone laughed (which they often do), but the only laughter I heard was the best friend.
He was sitting a few feet from me and he was laughing that deep belly laugh, the one that only comes from genuine amusement. His dark brown eyes were all sparkly and moist and he had a beautiful set of straight, white teeth. It was the first time in three years I had ever really seen him smile.
Something changed right then, at that moment.
When I looked at him, he was usually already looking at me. When I was talking, he was smiling. When I was coming or going, he was the one opening the door. Had he always been doing this? I wasn't sure. But it didn't take long for me to realize that I was always looking forward to seeing him, and no longer the boy I had a crush on for so many years.
Four years later, I married the best friend. And the boy I had a crush on was our best man. It was all very Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. And I wouldn't change a thing.