not my best friend

Probably one of the dopiest wedding related sayings is “Today I marry my best friend.”

Just typing that enacted my gag reflex.

*shudders*

UGH.

When I was engaged, I spent a lot of time shooting down this phrase and loudly proclaiming that Husband was NOT my best friend.

 

Now, looking back, I don’t know why. I think it was because I don’t really have ‘best friends’ in general, and also because I believed (and still do) that your husband can not be ‘everything’ for you and labeling him as a best friend implies that he is ‘everything’ — friend, lover, psychiatrist, etc. But I was vehement that Husband and I were not best friends and that I could do better than him as my best friend. I played this off as a joke during our engagement and people found it very funny.

Married, I haven’t thought about this statement in a long time.

 

Today a coworker and I were talking about how Husband and I don’t have a TV. (It’s been 2 1/2 years, btw.) She was astounded and could not get over how we were surviving without one. I tried to explain that before I married Husband I was a TV addict, and I still really like Netflix, but she was brushing my protests aside. Because she really wanted to know.

WHAT WERE WE DOING, IF NOT WATCHING TV?

So I, holding a baby in my lap and absentmindedly shaking a rattle for him, told her. I read books, he goes online to research, read articles, discuss in various forums, we cook dinner, I watch Netflix, he calls friends to chat and watches YouTube videos, etc. BUT WHAT ABOUT ON THE WEEKENDS? More of the same, plus we clean, do laundry, visit the zoo, run errands, go to a museum or see relatives.

She sat back and looked at me, still dumbfounded, and said, “Wow. You guys have a really great relationship and must get along really well.”

 

And, you know? We really do.

Yesterday we got back from brunch and errands. Husband was looking on some bike forums; I was catching up on Switched at Birth and browsing Tumblr.

“Hey,” I piped up. “Let’s try geocaching. You put in some coordinates and find little treasures. There’s a bunch hidden along the Lake Shore trail.”

He looked it up to research the idea (of course), and then we were off. Four hours and three successful finds later, we were both super psyched about this new hobby.

 

Last night, before I even had this convo with my coworker, I was in the shower thinking about my relationship with Husband. And although I love him so so much and we are insynced on almost everything, I knew I still didn’t consider him my best friend.

He is just my perfect match.

 

Back in high school, I read so much but still couldn’t figure out how a relationship worked. I didn’t understand how you ‘put up’ with someone, how you found someone that dealt with all you had, met you on a certain points, and loved you unconditionally. The falling apart, the divorce, the break away, some how all that made sense to me. I could easily see myself finding someone and then having them slowly get to know me, only to desert me based on what they had found.

((Oh, this had already happened with so many friends.))

 

But Husband and I … oh man. It is so hard to write here all the nuances of our relationship without sounding cheesy or weird. If you had told me that I would find a guy that gets my Backstreet love, that would love JG as much as I did, that would visit a zoo every weekend with me and follow me on any adventure idea I had …

Are there hard times? Uh, yeah. I think I’ve written a few instances here. He’s divorced and has a kid, so there’s a shit load just from that, plus he’s a lazy procrastinator just like me, he doesn’t like to spend a bunch of money unless it benefits him directly, he has a really weak sense of how to maintain a relationship with family, he’s just ‘okay’ around kids, he can have a double standard, and God damn does that man hate to sit through movies (as well as eat seafood — he seriously like a fuckin’ two year old if you offer him seafood.)

 

 

But that list is such a bunch of crap, because of all he does. He’s there for me, even if he’s muttering crap at me under his breath. Did I mention we casually swear at each other? Oh yeah. And talk fuckin’ dirty just to make each other laugh. Speaking of laughing, that’s how most our less serious fights end up, sort of a chicken/no laughing contest business. The heavier ones? Start out with shouts and end with honesty and apologies.  There’s so much we started together as a couple, and so much we’ve hitched on for each other — like how he loves Josh Groban, and I’m a UFC fan now. He’s flawlessly work dedicated, smart as a whip, and an amazing tech geek. When I’m scared at night he’ll roll over and hold me, if I’m putting off a shower he’ll come sit in the bathroom so I’ll do it, when neither of us want to cook or clean he gets all ‘Let’s teamwork this’.

He gets along with my parents, my sisters, and their husbands.

He puts up with the Celine Dion I’ve been blaring from the laptop lately.

He lets me write and doesn’t push for details.

He listens to me rant about work and patiently says, ‘That fuckin’ bitch, what a whore,’ (which is what I told him I wanted to hear when he asked what he’s supposed to say to my rants.)

He gets upset about how I don’t drive stick shift now and then, but for the most part he’s brilliant about it.

He tells me I’m beautiful night and day, casual or fancy.

He gets the door for me, car or otherwise.

After all this time.

 

 

So no, my husband’s definitely not my best friend. What transcends that? Soul twin? Other half?

 

How about best fuckin’ person I know?

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