My husband isn’t my best friend (and I won’t pretend he is)

Natalie Johnson - 18 Nov 16

Tomorrow it is our 12^th wedding anniversary.

My card could say, “I love you with all my heart”. Or perhaps “My love for you grows every year”. There will be plenty of opportunity to send him “To my soulmate and best friend…” Or other such rubbish. Mine won’t say that because it’s just not true.

I’ve been with my husband for 15 years. I love him a lot. Loads. I love him with as much of my heart as I can spare. But my heart is quite full. We have three daughters and they take up a lot of room in my heart. I am lucky and very grateful that I have parents, parents-in-law, a brilliant sister, sister-in-law (and family) and some great friends. That’s a lot of love. I can’t pretend he comes before my mum. Sorry honey. I can’t pretend he comes before the kids. Sorry again. But I think that’s OK. I don’t expect that in return, either. He’s not the single best thing in my life. And he’s not my best friend.

My husband is, however, amazing. He’s fit (in every way), he’s retained his good looks (in fact he really did get better looking with age). He’s hands-on, he cooks, better still he meal-plans. Really. He does the washing, he makes packed lunches, and he even remembers school trips and birthdays. He’s pretty much perfect in many ways. But he’s not my best friend. He’s my husband.

If I want advice about an outfit for an upcoming wedding, or if I want to mooch down the middle aisle of Aldi one random afternoon after work, I’ll not be asking him. If I want to unfairly and pointlessly moan about the way he insists on re-loading the dishwasher ‘the right way’, or complain about his penchant for patronising me in the kitchen, “You did use the red chopping board for the raw meat, didn’t you?” (I’m forty years old and I bought that chopping board), I won’t (obviously) be calling him.

If I want to moan about our first-world troubles, or chat about pointless rubbish, I’ll call my best friend. If I’m feeling down, I’ll call my best friend. If I have a hilarious joke I’ll share it with him – after I’ve called my bestie, first!

Our life is not a Disney fairy tale, nor heart-warming rom-com. We aren’t kids in the playground playing the perfect couple. It’s a game of survival, this life; raising kids and being a family is tough. We have to use all the pieces carefully and sensibly in our game. I need him for the big stuff – the husband stuff. The big decisions, the family time together – and that knowing wink, oh and date night that we really must schedule. He doesn’t need the daily outfall of my over–feeling, over–thinking complex brain. We both know that. We know where we need each other, when and why. During a particularly dark period in my life my husband had been there for me, as he always is. Then one day he called my best friend for me: “She needs you”, he said, “can you come over now?”. That was one of the most thoughtful things he’s ever done.

My husband is, without doubt, the best husband. He’s my partner in this crazy life, my partner in parenting, in banking, in packed-lunch-making. We share many opinions – on politics, raising our children, on money, priorities, the car we drive, holidays and life’s dreary minutiae.  I know where his strengths lie, where his interests lie, his best qualities and his worst. I know that he knows me better than I know myself. We both recognise the way we fit together – and it’s not perfectly.

But he’s the calm to my chaos; the shaft of sunlight in my perfect storm. He’s not my best friend. He wouldn’t want to be my best friend. He’s my husband. And I’ll write that on his anniversary card.

Natalie Johnson

Mother of 3 kids: 2 red, 1 blonde. Blonde one complains. Just trying to hold it all together, as best you can with kids. Freelance writer & brand consultant. Like to write (and talk) about parenting, kids & tech, nature, feminism, brand & content. And other random musings. Like how random life is when you have kids :)

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