Mindy mania.

I have this best friend, Mindy Kaling. Maybe you’ve heard of her?

Well, lately, I can’t stop thinking about Mindy and her absolute refusal to acknowledge me since she became famous.

I just don’t get it. We’re so much alike. Like, if I had a twin, who was Indian, and born nine years ahead of me, it would be Mindy. There’s no doubt in my mind.

We’re both from towns outside Boston.

We both look hot in the color pink.

Mindy loves TV, and so do I.

We have a mutual love for Nora Ephron movies, especially You’ve Got Mail (Y.G.M.) and Sleepless in Seattle (S.I.S). In fact, we even started a club called “What Would Nora Do?”

Once a week, we’d meet to strategize ways of turning our lives into romantic comedies. The process mainly involved reenacting crucial scenes from Y.G.M. and S.I.S.

Mindy has a high-pitched voice, so I always let her play Meg (even though she wasn't blonde enough for the part).

Honestly, though, Mindy’s exoticism is one of my favorite parts about her. Like, if I were a lesbian, and had a girlfriend, who was Indian, and born nine years ahead of me, it would be Mindy. There’s no doubt in my mind.

I remember this one time, we stayed in on a Friday night. And ordered Domino’s 5-5-5. Then, Insomnia Cookies. We even made a trip to 7-Eleven for Pirate’s Booty (Aged White Cheddar, duh). We watched romantic comedies, acted out SNL skits and laughed until we cried.

“I like you,” Mindy said. “I like you more,” I cooed. “No, I like you more,” Mindy cried. “No…”

Ok. Fine. Maybe I was exaggerating. Mindy and I didn’t order Dominos AND Insomnia Cookies.

Ok, fine. We didn’t order either.

FINE, god damnit. This story didn’t happen in real life, but it did in my dreams. Doesn’t that count for anything?

So I admit it: Mindy and I aren’t best friends (yet). But that’s only because we haven’t met. Once we do—and I’m still working out the details of exactly when that will be—we’ll fall into instant, best friend love. Mark my words.