Posted on May 11, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized |

This post has been brewing since long before I was a Weddingbee blogger, and it bubbled up to the front of my mind while listening to the radio this weekend.  You know that song, “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colby Callait?  “I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend….”  Yea, that one.  That song’s not for me.

My fiance is not my best friend.

My first husband was my best friend; he was my everything.  When I was with him, I depended on him completely for emotional support.  He helped me carry the burdens of my job, my stress and my dramas.  If you’d asked me then, I would have told you there could be no other way.  How could you be loyal wife if you had another best friend?  Was I supposed to talk about him to other people?  No way.

Times have changed, lessons have been learned.  I have a best friend — who is my MOH — upon whom I rely when my eyes are puffy from crying and I can’t see where I screwed up.  I have a mom who has a knack for sifting through the crap and pulling out the important stuff.  I have a dad who can always be counted on as an example of how to do it; he doesn’t even need to say anything.  My brother fields frantic phone calls over petty crap (even wedding stuff… he will be a perfect groom someday) and my sister dispenses relationship advice with her particular brand of directness.  Oh, yea, and I have a therapist.  I’m a very intense person, and it takes a village to get me through life, but I’m lucky enough to have a whole host of people who are willing to do that for me.  Because it’s about me.

We’ve survived — thrived, even — in this relationship because of my willingness to air my fears to people other than him.  When I look back to my first marriage, I see clearly how many of my hang-ups could have been avoided had I been willing to talk about them with someone… anyone.  Perspective is so important to keeping my Crazy under control.  This blog proves that point.  Not once have I regretted being completely (and sometimes painfully) honest about my fears and doubts.  Not once.

My fiance — soon, husband — doesn’t have to be my everything.  I suspect he’d do a bang up job, but I’ve found it healthier for me if I have a community of support rather than ask one single person to bear that load.  He’s the person to whom I’m closest; I carry him in my heart.  But I’m not in love with my best friend, though she is pretty freaking awesome.

I suspect this is a matter of semantics, but I’m curious, do you consider your fiance/ hubby your best friend?


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4 Responses to “Lucky”

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Yes…my husband is my best friend. I don’t rely upon him for everything, which is basically co-dependency. When I think of a best friend, I think of that person as someone that I can tell EVERYTHING to, someone that I can have fun with doing ANYTHING, and someone that I can be perfectly happy with when NOTHING is said at all.

He’s that man.

My first husband wasn’t.

I don’t think of my fiance as my best friend. He is both more and less than that, and I have a best friend. I have a couple, actually, like you, of people that are how I get through the day. Whenever other people talk about how happy they are to marry their best friend, I think, really? I don’t know why I don’t think of him as my best friend – he is the person who I am closest to, who knows me the best, but he’s not who I go to about everything. I think part of dealing with life is having the right forum, and its not always him. But at the same time – I haven’t had a single best friend since grade school – I have several close friends, a best friend from high school, from college, from law school – all of whom play a different role in my life. I’m uncomfortable labeling my fiance as my best friend – because our relationship is more than a grade school best friendship, and I don’t think it is necessary that he be my best friend.

My husband is definitely a fabulous friend! He is there for me through all the “seasons” of life — when I’m laughing, crying, busy, sleepy, bored, or sick. That said, this doesn’t always mean he “gets” why I’m laughing or crying… or feels like listening to me complain about being bored or sick! And when I come home from work with an exciting “story” about some little thing that so-and-so said, which made so-and-so respond like this, and then I said such-and-such… sometimes his eyes glaze over.

In my mind (and heart) this doesn’t make him one jot less awesome, though! It just makes him, well… a “him.” And I am learning that, when I need to complain or hash through something with him, it helps to keep my monologues sound-bite-sized and take plenty of pauses to make sure he sees how all my “random” points are connected together.

But sometimes I need a “her” to talk to. Someone who doesn’t need an explanation because they intuitively “get it.” Someone I can monologue to — for forty-five + minutes straight — and who will cry with me when I’m all finished talking. Someone I can ask, “Does this make me look fat?” and get more than a one-sentence reply (“Well, you know, I think it might be the stripes… the color is great, though… and I wouldn’t wear it with those shoes… do you have brown heels, maybe?” vs. “Um, no, you’re not fat.”)

This isn’t something I need to do everyday… or even every week. But when the steam is coming out my ears, my girlfriends are the ones who “get” what a fellow-girl needs to chill out. Then, after I’ve hashed through things with a friend or two, I can return to my husband feeling just a tad more pulled-together. …Afterall, that’s the version he always gives me. He just doesn’t need to call a bunch of friends on the phone and talk about things before he has distilled out the “bottom line”! (Although maybe he goes for a jog first…)

Thank goodness for “best friends”… and for husbands!

What an awesome post! Jen has said pretty much exactly what I was going to say so I won’t repeat it … I feel so differently being able to share with a “she” then with “him” and I’m totally OK with that. This was all a great read for me … Thanks! *SmiLes* Suzanne

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    I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt (and divorce papers) to prove it. Here I am again, pledging my life to my (new) love with eyes wide open (and heart racing) knowing full well how emotionally traumatic this can end… and doing it anyway.


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