My spouse is not my best friend.
He and I had this discussion just the other day. Maybe I'm feeling guilty about it, or like it's not normal, but it seems like other people are best friends with spouses.
And I'm just not.
Don't get me wrong.
It has nothing to do with love. I love him. Very much.
It has nothing to do with confidences. I tell him many things, more than I tell anyone else.
It has nothing to do with like. I like him. I think he is funny, generous, a good father, a loyal friend, a steady ship on a tossed-about sea. He is a good man.
But he is not my best friend. He is something different. He falls into another category, one more suitable to the person that shares my troubles, my fears, my triumphs, my children, my home.
There are days we function as one entity. And days we function as two orbiting planets.
We argue. We bicker. We complain. We get frustrated and fed up. Often.
But, we also applaud. We support. We compliment. We admire. Often.
Perhaps I have never really had a best friend, as it were. No one that finishes my sentences, reads my face, understands my ills, holds my confidences. I have many beloved friends, sisters from other mothers, darling dears, and shining stars I admire. I am blessed with an older sister I adore. I would be lucky to count any of these as my best friend. But they are not.
I suppose that Eric is the closest thing I've got, but friend is not quite the word.
I guess 'husband' will just have to do.