There are moments in life that make you stop and laugh—not because they’re meant to be funny, but because the situation is just so ridiculous. And when you have a brother like mine, these moments happen a lot. Especially when he forgets that he’s with me.
Let me take you back to a Saturday that started out like any other. We had just finished breakfast, and my brother—let’s call him Jaden—offered to take me to the mall. That was already surprising, since Jaden is the kind of guy who’d rather wrestle a bear than spend a weekend shopping. But I wasn’t going to question a free ride, and besides, I wanted to check out the new bookstore.
We got in his car, music blasting, windows down, and the vibes were good. Jaden was in one of his talkative moods, going on and on about the gym, his new protein shake obsession, and something about a girl he had just started texting. I wasn’t really paying attention until he said, “Bro, I swear, if she ghosts me, I’m done with dating forever.”
That’s when I looked at him and said, “You do realize you’re talking to your sister, right?”
He blinked at me, completely unfazed. “Yeah, yeah. But like, you get it.”
I just rolled my eyes and kept listening. But that was just the beginning.
At the mall, Jaden immediately drifted into full “bro mode.” You know, chest puffed out, walk slightly wider than necessary, checking his reflection in every window we passed. I had to practically jog to keep up with him. As we passed a group of girls near the food court, he nudged me and whispered, “Yo, tell me if they look again.”
“I’m literally your sibling,” I reminded him. “They’re probably looking at me.”
He didn’t even process it. “Right, right. Good wingwoman energy.”
Wingwoman? I was there to buy books and maybe some bubble tea—not help him flirt.
But he didn’t stop. Every few minutes, he’d say things like, “If I flex like this, do I look jacked?” or “Think I should say hi if I see her again?” as if I wasn’t just his sister but also his personal trainer and dating coach rolled into one.
Things reached a peak when we were at the sneaker store. Jaden was trying on a pair of bright red high-tops, spinning in front of the mirror like he was about to walk a fashion runway. That’s when he saw a girl from his gym walk in with a friend.
“Bro, act natural,” he hissed at me, ducking behind a display. “Do I look like I’m here alone? Or should I pretend you’re my cousin?”
“I’m going to pretend I don’t know you,” I said, walking away before he could rope me into some elaborate scheme.
But it was already too late. Jaden popped up, swaggered toward her, and said something cringey like, “What are the chances? Fancy seeing you here.” She smiled politely, introduced her friend, and asked who I was.
“This is my…uh…companion for the day,” he said.
Companion?
I stared at him, mouth open. “Wow. I didn’t realize we were in a Victorian novel.”
He shot me a look, the one that says, play along, but I didn’t. I just said, “Yeah, I’m his sister. Unfortunately.”
They all laughed. He tried to recover, but the damage was done. He’d forgotten he was with me—again—and paid the price in the form of raised eyebrows and awkward silence.
After they left, I turned to him. “Companion? Seriously?”
He groaned. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t want her to think I brought my sister shopping. That’s not cool.”
“So lying is?”
He just grinned. “You’re a good sport. Appreciate you.”
We left the store, him walking like nothing happened, me shaking my head in disbelief.
The day didn’t end there. Oh no. On the drive home, Jaden got a call from one of his friends. He put it on speaker—because of course he did—and the conversation quickly turned ridiculous.
“Yo, where you at?” his friend asked.
“Just cruising with the homie,” Jaden said.
I stared at him. Homie?
His friend went on, asking if Jaden was coming to the party that night. Jaden said maybe, depending on “what the homie says.”
“What the homie says?” I repeated, loudly. “I’m your sister, not your sidekick!”
His friend on the phone laughed. “Wait, that’s your sister? Bro, you’re wild.”
Jaden just laughed too, totally unbothered. “She’s chill. It’s all good.”
When we got home, I flopped on the couch and stared at the ceiling. My brother had once again treated me like a stand-in bro, wingwoman, fashion consultant, and personal chauffeur—then forgotten I’m actually just his little sister.
And yet, I wasn’t even mad.
That’s the weird thing about siblings. They can be annoying, forgetful, and even embarrassing—but they’re still your people. And honestly, Jaden forgetting he’s with me just means he’s comfortable. He doesn’t censor himself. He forgets the roles we’re “supposed” to play and just lets me into his world, even if that world is filled with gym talk and weird flirting attempts.
Later that evening, as we sat on the porch eating snacks, he nudged me and said, “Hey, thanks for hanging out today. Even though I forgot you weren’t one of the guys.”
I looked at him, amused. “You always forget I’m not one of the guys.”
He shrugged. “That’s kind of a compliment, though. You’re cool to talk to. Cooler than most people I know.”
And with that, the day came full circle. Because when your brother forgets he’s with you, it’s annoying—but it also means he thinks of you as more than just family. You’re a part of his crew, his trusted circle. You’re the person he doesn’t have to impress, but still wants around.
So yeah, when bro forgets he’s with me, I roll my eyes. I laugh. I threaten to tell Mom. But deep down, I don’t really mind.
Because somewhere between the cringe and the chaos, there’s love.
Even if he still calls me “homie.”
