There is nothing like a glass of wine to take the edge of a difficult day; to relax you, to unwind. Problem is it sort of magnifies itself when you are a nattering to your best friend over the kitchen table. What should be just the one turns out to be well just the one bottle…
I am not good on the old vino, as I have a very low tolerance so a glass or two nay three glasses and well to be quite honest I am any ones. Thank God my best friend has no such intentions or life could become very tricky indeed.
For my best friend is a bloke.
And no, he is not gay.
He is there when I need him to support me in my self-centred diatribes, he nods and says yes but actually never commits himself so that he can always say I told you so should he want to, but never does.
He looks after my children when I go walkabout knowing I will always come back however bad it seems. He takes calls form my husband when he is worried about me yet my best friend never holds up a mirror to what I really am. He is just there for me and I have no idea why – he says he likes me.
I adore him.
But would find being married to him too difficult; he knows me too well. He can see through me far too easily. To my husband I am unchartered waters even after so many years. And I prefer it that way, to be honest.
And yes I have thought what if when it comes to my best friend but we wouldn’t suit, that’s why we are best friends we each need something different from our life partners. We need a separateness, a distance which you cannot get if you live cheek by jowl. We need a sense that we are better than what we really think we are; it’s what all insecure folk need. A Vaseline finish or at least the pretence that there is one.
My husband goes to work he doesn’t see me all day he doesn’t know what I am really like. My best friend does.
And you wouldn’t know but for a bottle of wine either…