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In days long gone, I was so desperate for friends — any friend — that I wasn’t very discerning. I’d ascribe the title Best Friend to people completely unsuited to the role. One a serial philanderer, given to spouting nonsense on my behalf. Another an actual alcoholic, incapable of dispensing sound advice.

Eventually, I’d see the error of my ways, withdrawing to become a recluse by choice. That would have been towards the end of my first year at university, just as I turned twenty. I’d seek out more wholesome relationships then, sticking close to those I knew to be taking a sensible path.

One of them a fellow quite a bit older than me, studying the same subjects. We remain friends even now, although he is in a senior director role for an international aid organisation. When, a year later, I became Muslim, I found myself with a small band of friends, all of whom I consider close to this day.

Nowadays, I don’t use the term Best Friend lightly. I know who my trusted companions are. My true best friend is my wife and soulmate, without whom I could not imagine life at all. A companion who believes in me much more than I believe in myself, who only ever acts with my best interests at heart.

This is one friendship that still astounds me. I have to consider it a gift and a blessing. My family had serious misgivings when we were first introduced and insisted on marrying so quickly, but they too would now concede that it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even they can see that she is my bestest friend.

Genuine best friends should always be treasured. Hold tight to them. Value them. Tell them how much they mean to you. I don’t actually have a lot of friends, but those I do I am so grateful for. Unlike those of my youth, they offer wise counsel, helping to keep me on the straight and narrow. Alhamdulilah for good friends.