Romancing the Bro
Fellatioship, as I've dubbed it, has been ruining marriages in the decades since the sexual revolution.
If you take the book of Genesis seriously, and not just give a special name to every animal you meet like I do, then you respect the gender boundaries that God instituted. The woman is the ezer kenegdo, a "helper" to man and, according to some uppity chicks, an equal power to him. Our credo at Cultural Imperialist says a woman's role is to "plant and till a garden to provide [man] folic acid and insoluble fiber." Whatever you think, one thing is clear: Man and wife are not "buddies" in any sense that would correspond to a Chris Tucker-Jackie Chan, Mel Gibson-Danny Glover, or even Paul Rudd-Jason Segel movie.
Due to the pioneering work of Ryan Reynolds and Amy Smart, we know what happens to coed friends who are sexually attracted to each other: They make a series of awkward, tentative advances, enraging the man's territorial pop star, until they finally give in to a four-letter word that starts with "L." BFFFs (that's not a typo) have not only elevated this painful state of limbo into a lifestyle, but put themselves in an emotional form of solitary confinement.
Best friends going back to the days of Hagar the Horrible have served most crucially as nodders and hell-yessers for husbands griping about their wives, and wives about their husbands. The marital relationship would break down if spouses actually told each other how annoying, incorrigible and a threat to society they are.
Wait a minute - why am I speaking in the conditional? Fellatioship, as I've dubbed it, has been ruining marriages in the decades since the sexual revolution. Divorce rates spiked as men and women in relationships started to "rap" with each other about their emotions instead of bellyaching to their bowling league, knitting circle or mistresses about that lazy oaf or that fat cow.
When your spouse is your BFF - literally, if you're a Mormon - you can't really vent. Like that bottle of Charles Shaw you've been stowing in the cabinet by the dishwasher for 10 years, you have mellowed out but also developed some unpleasant flavors, like that asparagus-pee smell, by your 10th anniversary. You need an hermano, an amigo mejor sin coito, as our Portuguese friends living it up in South America would say.
Best friends encourage you to stay for another round when your wife is calling, or to visit another store on Rodeo Drive when your husband just paid off your gambling debts. Their interest in your "junk" is purely comedic, not procreative. A best friend won't make you sleep on the couch for bailing you out of jail, unless it's a comfy pullout. They are the bacon bits in the salad bowl of life.
And we know your wife has been on your case about nitrates.
Ride the White Horse
The buddy system has been a staple of popular culture from time out of mind, from Amos and Andy to Zager and Evans to Riggs and Murtaugh, but the most famous have been those of opposing genders. Adam and Eve are arguably the first, but Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy, Homer and Marge, and the Lady and the Tramp are all principled characters who found their identity and friendship defined by their very specific relationship as husband and wife.
If it's true that man was not "meant to be alone" and marriage is a union of two souls into one, surely being one with your best friend is not outside the bounds of merit. No longer is it enough for the man to simply perform his "husbandly duties" as if servicing his wife was merely a chore, like taking out the garbage or changing the oil. Men and women are best friends by virtue of their vows of BFF-idelity.
If you can't slurp a single spaghetti noodle with someone, well, they may not qualify as "best friend" unless you can utilize-- without a hint of irony--the "I'd stop a bullet for you" clause or sucessfully rob casinos together. While two men can successfully do heroin together as best friends for a short time, riding the white horse, especially bareback, is sure to result in chafing and hallucinogenic trips to the toilet.
While marriages end in death or divorce, more than half of them also end in disappointment. Less than 1% of those ex-couples remain friends. Couples who are best friends in their marriage are more likely to weather the certain storms that emerge when two people share most of their lives together. Like a pot dealer and his clients, best friends require a certain level of trust and transparency. Over the course of a lifetime, the only thing that keeps people together is good communication; in marriage or business, without sharing one's feelings, one is doomed to utter failure and death, like the dog from Marley & Me or Cain's attempt at an Ag- Co-op for God.
There are three levels of so-called "Best Friends" which boil down to coital and conversational distinctions. Narrowly put, there is no reason your wife and Billy Jack can't both be your best friend, each operating in a distinct sphere of influence and intimacy. To assume that a wife can't or shouldn't be a best friend as well as a spouse is as stupid as mixing up North and South Korea or assuming the Vice President will try to make a bid for the 25th at the first sign of Presidential weakness.
When the wife occupies the role, she is the mirror, reflecting back your deepest sense of outrage at the cards you've been dealt, regarding your feelings as paramount and generally reveling in your every success and mourning when you mourn. And a wife is the only best friend you can have sex with after an argument to help smooth things over.
There is room in the stable for lots of different horses; some white, some brown, some spirited and jumpy, some steady and sure. Some of them you give apples to and some you ride.
There's a metaphor in there somewhere. Discuss it with your wife, see what she thinks.