Best friends

I’ve had best friends before.

One, or six, or fourteen at a time?

At this stage in my life, I think the whole concept of a best friend is children play-acting at monogamous marriage before they’re ready or interested in a romantic relationship with anyone.

I still remember the agonizing feelings I had when someone else got to be The Best Friend when I wanted to be.

And I remember the guilt I felt when I drifted apart from my closest friend of childhood. Was I, somehow, divorcing her?

I’ve had “friend breakup” talks, as an adult. They were painful, but a necessary part of being compassionate to someone you once (and still) care(d) about.

One of my friends in college told me, “Best Friends isn’t a single job; it’s a tier.” I didn’t believe her then. I do now. (And her husband is the person I’d pick if I was forced to pick a single best friend, which is an amusing bonus anecdote.) For the most part, I don’t have a single best friend; I have a rotating cast of friends who are all close to me in different ways. One friend is my local emergency contact for everything. The other (aforementioned) is my advance directive POA. Yet another pair are the designated guardians for my child in case both my ex husband and I pass away.

A friend today shared a post about how “best friend” is a term that imitates monogamy, and it made me think about all this. (I don’t have the link handy, but I’ll add it when I do.) It’s been percolating in my mind for a while, but I haven’t really put it into words.

It’s not realistic to expect one person to be all those friends for you; different people are different, and every dyadic friendship has its own shape. They don’t take away from each other, except inasmuch as time and energy are limited things.

I am grateful, though, for all the friends that I do have, and for all the friends I used to have. You have all touched, shaped, my life in one way or another.

I’m glad that I don’t have to pick one friend to be a Best Friend.