My fist pumping the air, I laughed with happiness as sweat dripped down my face.
I looked over to my best friend and fellow raving partner to grin widely at them – but my best friend wasn’t a girl from school, university or my hometown. It was my husband, Jethro.
Grinning widely at me, he took my hand and we danced together, safe in the moment that nothing else mattered but us and our utter elation.
I can safely say that, at the age of 29, I can count my close female friends that I’m extremely lucky to have on one hand – but my husband will always be my perhaps one and only best friend forever.
There’s no doubt that friends have come and gone over the years, achieving BFF status then slowly ripping it away – for whatever reason. At one time, I had multiple best friends, but my husband – the man I’ve known for eight years, and been married to for three – beats them all. By far.
He is my rave partner, as well as my favourite comedian; a shoulder to cry on, a good debater and gossip-monger, fellow rock climber, number one cheerleader and free therapist. He knows all of my secrets, as I know his, and I block out my entire weekends just to spend time with him – all the things a BFF should do and be.
I message him all day every day just to chat, rant to and share my mental health woes with – and he listens, preparing a hug (or a beer and chocolate buttons) on my return home.
And it’s only got better since we got wed. But when we meet people on nights out, they’re always shocked to hear that we’re married – thinking we act more like best friends than husband and wife. I couldn’t think of a better compliment.
We don’t tend to hold hands or kiss in public, just banter with each other – prodding each other until we cry with laughter, or chase each other with expletives, just like I did with my BFF when I was a toddler, no doubt (except without the swearies!).
We people watch in coffee shops, giggle until we heave with laughter, and get scared together watching horror films in our pants – sharing a family sized bag of crisps and jelly beans to quench the hangovers.
My question is, why can’t my husband be my best friend? Why is it so weird that we go to raves when we’re married? Is life supposed to stop at marriage, with friendship abruptly ending and marriage consequently starting – formalities and all?
Being a Mrs doesn’t take away the magic of friendship, it just makes ours stronger.
A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through Instagram Stories while my husband was in the loo – and one made me catch my breath. It was a ‘friend’s’ birthday party – and I hadn’t been invited.
I excused myself and cried in the bathroom. The insecurities I had at school came flooding back.
But it wasn’t a female friend who called me and took me out for a rager, it was my husband who picked me up off the floor and gave me a big squeeze.
It was him that told me I was worth more.
In that moment, Jethro was all of the best friends I’d met in toilet cubicles at clubs over the years in one – but with a brilliant beard. Truthfully, why would I need friends like them when I have a husband?
My husband has never let me down, and sees me as his equal. In fact, the worst heartbreak I’ve ever known has not been at the hands of him, or another man – but at the hands of close female friends disappointing me.
Apparently, it’s healthy to have my spouse as my best friend, anyway. Researchers have discovered that people who marry their best friend are more likely to lead a happier, more satisfying life – with results showing that the benefits of marriage are about twice as large as those whose spouse isn’t their best friend.
Amazingly, studies have shown that you could even recover from surgery six times faster if you feel both supported and loved by a partner. Can’t argue with that, can we?
It doesn’t just last as long as the honeymoon phase, either (and we all know how transient that is) but was true for couples who’d been together years and years – whether married or cohabiting.
It’s the best kind of ‘friends with benefits’ situation, just you wear some pretty nice rings and continue waking up to someone spooning you (or drooling on your pillow) forever and ever.
It’s totally OK for your husband not to be your bestie, but intimacy and solid communication is absolutely key – and that includes not keeping secrets, in my eyes.
My husband and I are still very independent people, but we’re very open with each other. We’re not afraid to tell each other they are wrong or sit down and talk frankly about how we’re feeling. How many best friends can safely say that?
Research proves that spousal friendship instills both respect and a common ground, laying the foundations for survival and longevity of a happy, satisfying and fulfilling life – so why not live by it?
My husband is my equal, my mirror image, and my soulmate – in more ways than one. Just like a best friend should be, and I feel no shame or embarrassment admitting that. I feel lucky and content in the fact that he’ll never break my heart, like friends often do.
As you read this, I’ll be on my way back from Glastonbury music festival with my husband. Having spent the weekend pumping the air with one dirt-encrusted hand wrapped around a Strongbow Dark Fruits, and the other in his.
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