My Husband, My Frenemy
This popular concept that “my husband and I are each others’ best friend” is unmitigated bullshit and imma tell you why.
It’s one of the most ridiculous ideas to ever perpetrate itself on married life.
(Preemptively, I’ll put readers on notice that I’m using traditional roles, stereotypical examples in this discussion. It’s easier. But please be advised that in my household, my husband does the cooking — from menu planning to serving. I do the yard work and it’s heavy duty stuff from building stonewalls to pruning fruit trees. There’s mulching, composting, mowing and more. I’ve never had my nails done. If you’re real sensitive about the use of “gender cliche” examples, then maybe you’ll be more comfortable and less triggered reading elsewhere. Everyone else, buckle up.)
Back to the spouse as best friend debacle.
Here’s a better role for a husband: the person you love beyond words, the one you trust, depend on, even adore and need. He’s the one who makes you melt and feel contentment when you lay in his arms. He’s often the one who serves as an anchor to family life, a role model, a provider, a protector, a handyman — that list goes on.
But best friend? Snort.
A best friend let’s you talk nonsense for hours, even when you repeat yourself. She’s actually interested in what you have to say. She cares about the nail polish you like. She’s fascinated by the neighborhood gossip you share. She can fix your hair or advise you on shoes. She laughs at your jokes and agrees with almost everything you say. You and she like the same things. You cry at the same movies, discuss your favorite books. Talk about work, kids, diets, husbands and/or boyfriends.
You don’t pretend to be interested in each other’s life minutia, you truly are.
The husband, on the other hand … he may appear to tolerate those fancy, little throw pillows but he secretly despises them. You find them on the floor or behind the couch. Never in a nice display on the sofa, the way you left them.
Classic frenemy shit.
As for that beautifully crafted, scented candle, that masterpiece elicits a “what’s that weird smell?”
A new haircut? At best, he might say, “You look different. Did you do something?”
Whereas a best friend says, “Wow, Cindy did a great job, I love how she put in those long layers and then left your bangs versatile enough to sweep to the side.” Yes, she knows the name of your stylist.
A new haircut might also get this from hubby: “Why did you change your hair? I liked it before.”
Now I’m not saying women just talk about trivial shit, but some of us do some of the time. But it’s not trivial to us. A teacher our kid hates. A dog who isn’t housebroken. A job situation that’s draining. Our world is crumbling.
Your husband has his crisis, too. Be truthful. Do you want to hear the details of why the carburetor on his truck is acting funny? And why the 2005 Ford pickup is better than the 2006 version? And why swapping out the do-hickey on the whatchamacallit for a custom designed gizmo is well worth the money?
Or, pick any of those other well-known mind-numbing subjects men seem to enjoy. Guitars, football, belts, sausage, athletes foot, Star Wars … you get it.
If you’re lucky, your husband has a best friend, too. Or at least a buddy or some guys. He needs them, badly. He’ll be lonely without them and you don’t have — or don’t want to have — the kind of guy knowledge stuff to fill that void.
Sure, a spouse needs to listen and a marriage has many elements of friendship and companionship woven into the arrangement.
But when it comes to problems, most men have limited patience with fussing about before they want to get to a solution. And I salute them for this trait. However, sometimes that’s not satisfactory to women who want to chew on it quite a bit longer. That’s when you need a best friend.
All of these scenarios could be engineered to reflect similar dilemmas for men. Except, in this case, they’d like to tinker on their car, watch the game, go golfing, play video games unencumbered by domestic concerns. Where woman may tend to wallow, men tend to distract themselves. Simplistically, speaking. (I warned you.)
You want to talk and talk and talk. Or shop. Or redecorate. Or fluff pillows. He puts the headphones on.
This is where the happily married couple now commences on the frenemy dance of finding ways to needle their spouse.
You bang pots in the kitchen while he’s tuning his guitar. You fluff those pillows during the instant replay. You somehow misplace his baseball mitt while cleaning out the breezeway.
He decides to paint the kitchen ceiling just before you have plans to bake your Christmas cookies.
“You said you wanted it painted before the holidays,” he says, innocently, as if offended that you aren’t appreciative of his thoughtful scheduling.
Now, I’m not talking about narcissistic stuff or anything truly obstructionist or abusive or really crappy behavior. Sabotaging a spouse’s diet, sobriety or similar is not acceptable. Get help.
I’m talking about the normal friction that exists in many, many long term relationships — a friction that does not occur between best friends. The friction that frenemies know well.
I’m also not talking about the kind of friction that generates great sex, as in makeup sex or similar love-hate passions. Alas, this frenemy business probably does not result in frisky business.
No, this is garden variety frenemy behavior that marriage seems to breed.
A friend of mine summed up one type of frenemy behavior from her husband this way: “I don’t know how he thinks I ever survived all those years without his help.”
She’s a CEO, a talented seamstress, an all-around skilled person. But he loves to tell her, “Ya know, if you put some oil on that …” “If you turned that the other way …” “If you …”
If drives her nuts. He knows that. That’s why he does it. That’s the essence of a frenemy. She has her own ways of frenemy-ing him back.
They also adore each other and are quick to shower the other with compliments. A strong, wonderful couple.
They are not best friends.
On a recent Medium essay about communication difficulties in marriage, a woman posted this reply “He doesn’t notice or ask about how I’m doing or how I’m feeling. There’s very little or no inquiry into my inner life.”
I laughed out loud. The only inquiry I’d expect from husband about my inner life is “was that your stomach rumbling or mine?”
For the most part, you don’t want or need your husband to know about your inner life. Be content that he remembers to ask your brother how his vintage Corvette is running so you don’t have to listen to that mind-numbing shit.
However, a best friend will delve into your inner life. No doubt, she has the same longings, the same frustrations about not fulfilling her dreams.
An inner life discussion with your spouse could, in fact, hurt his feelings. This interior turmoil could rock the boat, make you less appealing, bring in all nature of unintended consequences.
Sometimes we need to share and our spouse is the only one we can talk to, can reveal ourselves to. He holds an ultimate trust when it comes to our survival.
Other times, let sleeping dogs lie. Weep or confess to your best friend, let it all hang out in the safety of the sisterhood.
You and your spouse no doubt share many common interests, ones that tend to be domestic. The house, garden, family matters, But who do you want to go to the mall with you on a rainy afternoon?
A great marriage, or a good enough marriage, can provide us with a world of satisfaction and meaning. That’s a lot to ask and a lot to receive. Placing unrealistic expectations on this bond is asking for the moon.
Let your best friend do her job and let your husband do his.
And if sometimes this Venn diagram intersects, well that’s excellent. But understand the difference in the dynamics of friendship versus a marital relationship. The dance between Mars and Venus creates a fertile ground for frenemies. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
