A fictionalized family-and-marriage story.
At first, I let it pass. Robert’s family called me his best friend, and I assumed it was an affectionate description of our marriage. Then I asked them to introduce me as his wife, and the phrase became something they seemed determined to preserve.
The words were not inherently insulting. What hurt was the repeated refusal to use the description I had requested. I was being told it was a joke while supplying the evidence that I was not enjoying it.
Robert—Robbie to his family—later told me about relatives jokingly betting on our marriage. The exact terms mattered less to me than the discovery that our relationship had become entertainment behind our backs. Suddenly the introductions felt different too.
He wanted distance from his mother and sister and hoped to speak separately with his father. I appreciated his concern, but we needed to discuss what each response would mean, rather than decide the entire future of the family in one angry evening.
Robert could correct an introduction himself. He could ask that the jokes stop and end a visit if they continued. I could choose which gatherings I wanted to attend. Those were decisions we could actually make without needing everyone to agree that the original remark had been serious.
I did not need the family to admire every part of our marriage. I wanted a modest courtesy: when I said how I wished to be introduced, they could listen.
Being someone’s best friend can be a lovely thing. It loses some of the warmth when it is used to avoid acknowledging that you are also their wife.
