In our early 30s, both of us were pursuing degrees after years of living life to the fullest. I was nearing graduation when I met Alex in class. We quickly struck up a friendship, bonding over casual chats before lectures and sharing cigarettes afterward. I opened up about my young daughter and my decision to leave her father while Alex shared his work adventures and travel stories. Occasionally, we’d grab a drink between classes. It took me far too long—almost two months—to realize that Alex was gay. At that moment, I felt a wave of irony wash over me; how could I connect so well with someone who didn’t fit the mold of a romantic partner?
I graduated a semester ahead of Alex, but we made a concerted effort to stay close. Our friendship blossomed; he became my go-to for everything, from being my plus-one at weddings to a sounding board for my thoughts. My family embraced him as one of their own. One day, a stranger jokingly referred to him as my “gay husband,” and the term stuck. From then on, we affectionately labeled each other as “gay husband” and “straight wife.”
A year later, I relocated 1,500 miles away to pursue a master’s program, yet our friendship remained strong. We would frequently call and meet whenever I returned home. After I transitioned into a Ph.D. program, we continued our close bond, visiting each other often. Our hangouts were simple yet fulfilling; we’d work on our laptops while binge-watching TV, just like an old married couple.
Alex has been my confidant during heartaches and bad dates, always there to lend a listening ear. He’s been a positive male role model for my daughter and a friend to my parents. His generosity knows no bounds—he once loaned me money for a used bedroom set when my daughter needed one, later forgiving the debt as a birthday gift. He treats me to dinners and thoughtful gifts, offers his advice, and isn’t afraid to call me out when I’m being unreasonable. He embodies everything I hope to find in a partner, minus the romantic involvement.
Initially, I subscribed to the stereotype that every woman has a gay friend who acts like an added girlfriend, but with a better sense of style. As I matured, I realized that male and female friendships have their unique dynamics. While I can discuss parenting with both, I reserve the more personal topics for my female friends.
Through my bond with Alex, I’ve learned that a gay male friend occupies a distinct space in my life. Without the undercurrent of physical attraction, I can accept his kindness and support without any awkwardness. Alex’s humor, intelligence, and empathy are traits I admire and hope to find in a life partner someday. In the meantime, a wonderful gay best friend and a trusty vibrator might be just the combination I need.
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In summary, the bond between a woman and her gay best friend is a unique and enriching relationship that transcends traditional friendship dynamics. It’s one that offers emotional support, companionship, and a special kind of love that is invaluable.