I keep hearing married people talking about their spouse as their best friend. “Happy Birthday to my husband, my soul mate, my best friend.” Trent and I have been discussing this lately, because are we best friends? It kind of makes us laugh, because we’re pretty sure we’re not. We love each other and enjoy each other’s company enough that out of everyone in the entire world we decided to stick together for the rest of our lives, but best friends? I’m not sure that we’ve ever actually been friends. We met, went on a date, started dating, never broke up, got married. I don’t think being best friends is a requirement of marriage, and if it is, it’s a modern one. The words “best friend” was not part of our vows.
Because Trent is neither a woman nor a gay man, I don’t really see how he could be my best friend. Because I consider brisket to be brisket, regardless of whether it comes from a smoker in the hill country or pre-cooked from HEB with a free case of Dr. B, I’m pretty positive Trent doesn’t consider me his best friend. My richer/poorer/sickness/health/good times/bad husband, as everyone knows, loves barbecue. And because we’re married and enjoy spending time together, and also because I don’t really want to be excommunicated from the state of Texas, I will occasionally eat barbecue with him.
The best recent news for Trent is that the best barbecue place in Houston and one of the top restaurants in the area is located in our very own suburb. Because eight months after opening the weekend lines are still really long, he actually took the day off from work to eat there. Rush was in school, so missed out on the dining experience, but his absence gave Trent the excuse to order an unholy amount of meat in order to “have enough” to bring some home for Rush.
It was good…it was barbecue…want to talk about musical theater?
I may be guilty of the "best friend" thing, but the minute that I call my husband my "partner in crime," you have permission to slap me. Hard.
ReplyDelete