My husband and I often noted a lovely home owned by acquaintances on the hill above our community pool. It was brick with a large flowering plum tree in front of the living room (we assumed) window. 

After admiring it for a couple of years, we noticed a “For Sale” sign on the front. Due to the owners of homes here not owning the land and being required to sell to members of our club, it was only $25,000 in 1998 — an excellent price but well beyond our modest means since I was the only one able to work at the time due to my spouse’s chronic depression. 

We toured the home, and we loved the way the huge picture windows and skylights in the living room and master bedroom let the light in. In the summer, the tree shaded the front windows, and in the winter, the leaves fell, leaving the home drenched in light — a situation my husband’s psychiatrist said would be very beneficial for him. 

We were chatting with a couple who were dear friends there for several years about how we loved the house but it was beyond our means. 

One afternoon shortly after that conversation, they invited us over for the afternoon. Once we’d got situated with an iced tea, the husband, who’d worked most of his adult life for a local aircraft manufacturing facility, said:

Friend: “Sit down, please. I’d like to offer you a solution to getting your house. My wife and I both agree you were meant to have it. I can mortgage the second home on my property for $25,000 and give you the loan passbook to pay off a ten-year mortgage. We want to do this for you two.”

After we’d shut our jaws from our expressions of open-mouthed astonishment, we said yes most emphatically. We owned that home and paid it off before the ten years, and we were both tearfully grateful. 

On top of that, the carpet in the home was loaded with secondhand smoke from the two heavy smokers who’d lived there and dog urine smell from their incontinent dog. We were lamenting the discolored bare wood when my best friend handed me her credit card and said:

Best Friend: “Get what you need to make that place habitable for you. You have up to $10k available.” 

We did get new carpet and enough odor-killing paint to repaint the whole house and seal off all the odors and staining. 

I am still grateful to that couple and my friend for my husband being able to live mostly depression-free and in comfort for the rest of his life.

I’m sitting with my boyfriend of six years, and we’re about to watch a movie.

Boyfriend: “Hey, I need to talk to you.”

Me: “Is it about how you’ve been cheating on me with my best friend?”

My boyfriend is shocked.

Boyfriend: “How did you know that?!”

Now I was shocked. I was just making a joke, but this was better. I told my boyfriend that we were done and he needed to leave.

He left, and I confronted my best friend. She admitted to it, and I haven’t spoken to either of them since.

My best friend and I are shopping in a beauty supply store. We’re in an aisle with a lot of lip gloss, and he has several in his hand. He has a ton of lipgloss at home and loves buying new colors.

Me: *Jokingly* “At this point, you’re basically a lipgloss dragon with your giant hoard.”

Best Friend: “Have you come to slay me, brave knight?” 

Me: “Depends, is your boyfriend a dragon, too? Will he seek vengeance on my descendants for hundreds of years?”

Best Friend: *Laughing* “Your descendants are crunchy and good with ketchup.”

A mother and her daughter are also in the aisle with us. I guess they’ve overheard our conversation because the mother quickly steers her daughter away from the glosses we’ve been touching.

Lady: “No, you don’t want the ones he touched.”

Me: “Well, bless her heart.”

If you’re not familiar with the southern USA, this is kind of like saying, “Well, she’s a b****.” The lady clearly heard me because she turns to look at me.

Lady: “D*** [gay slur].”

A few minutes later, a store employee comes over to us.

Employee: “You two need to leave.”

Me: “Why?”

Employee: “A customer just complained that you called her a racial slur. You need to go.”

Me: “We didn’t, but—”

Best Friend: “It’s okay. We’ll leave so there aren’t any problems.”

He puts the lipgloss back and we leave. He’s clearly a bit upset.

Me: “I’m sorry. That lady was a complete b****.”

Best Friend: “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

It was seriously annoying how that lady could casually use a slur and then lie about us using one to get us kicked out. Some people aren’t fit to be in polite society.

My ex-husband and I met and became fast friends in 2004. We grew very close over time and became best friends but with no romantic intentions. We saw each other through tough relationships, family tragedies, and everything else under the sun. Somewhere around 2011, we thought it would be a grand idea for us to get married, which we did in 2012. Our marriage carried on much as it always had — as best friends.

After about a year, we realized we didn’t have the proper romantic feelings for each other to sustain a marriage, and we didn’t want to get in each other’s way of actually finding true love, so we had an amicable divorce around 2014. I chose to keep my married name (his last name) because I didn’t feel like doing all the paperwork to update passports and other documents, etc.

I ended up moving around the country many times after that, while he stayed in the same place, but we still talked every day and remained best friends.

In early 2020, he planned a trip to visit me and we spent a couple of days together. He wanted to buy a video game while in town, so we went to a local store. We spent some time looking around and being how we’ve always been together — dumb jokes, laughing nonstop, quippy banter, finishing each other’s sentences, etc. We obviously get along very well and probably seem attached at the hip to any bystander.

When we got to the checkout, I told my ex-husband he could use my points account for a discount.

Cashier: “What’s your phone number, ma’am?”

Me: “[Phone Number].”

Cashier: “And is that under [Last Name]?”

Me: “Yep!”

Ex-Husband: *Snorts* “I forgot that was your last name.”

Me: *Giggling* “Oh, my God! I keep forgetting we have the same last name!”

The cashier perked up and started clapping her hands, squealing with joy.

Cashier: “Ohhhh! Did you guys just get married?! Congratulations!”

We really didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I couldn’t help but tell the truth. 

Me: *Laughing* “Actually, we got divorced about six years ago.”

Cashier: “Oh. Uh, sorry. Here’s your receipt. Have a good day.”

We did feel bad for embarrassing her, but we laughed about it once we got back in my car. It’s now 2022, and we’re still best friends and talk every day, and we’re both still unmarried. We agreed that if things continue to look dismal for marriages for both of us, we definitely won’t get married again, but we’ll grow old together in matching rocking chairs.

I’m sitting in the library working on my summary notes for a music extension class, preparing for a viva voce — a kind of oral exam — tomorrow. My best friend comes up behind me and starts reading over my shoulder.

Best Friend: “Why are half your notes in Italian?”

Me: “…I’m actually secretly multilingual and never told you.”

Best Friend: “O… kay… Not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt.”

Me: “My guy, it’s music stuff.”

Best Friend: “OH!”