Back in the 19^th century, spinsters of a certain age—the never married and the widowed—lived together in arrangements of convenience called “Boston Marriages” that were assumed to be non-sexual (though, obviously, sometimes they were.) Here in the new Millennium, or whatever we’re calling it, I’m meeting a growing number of people who are considering whether their best friends could actually be their most suitable life partner choices. After all, when we’re living in a time when a greater number of people defer or forgo mar

riage, live alone, and have serial monogamous (and non-monogamous) relationships is the idea you might want to eventually make a life choice to live with your best friend really that surprising?

Over the past three years of my life as a divorced and single woman, I’ve grown increasingly connected to my friends. I have one friend, whom I will call Mary Lee, who I’ve known for almost 20 years. We’ve been friends on two coasts, and lived through babies, divorces, deaths, new relationships and amazing personal transformation together.

In many ways, Mary Lee is as close as a sister, only unlike my (much loved) sister; she lives 50 miles away and, like me, is single. Over the past two years, I’ve started speaking to Mary Lee once or twice a day, which is more often than I speak to the man I’m dating (whom I totally feel close to) and far more often than I speak to my (amazingly busy) siblings. Given how close we are, and the mutually supportive Band of Two we have formed, is it surprising that that I’ve started wondering if Mary Lee is actually meant to be my platonic life partner? Or that every friend and new relationship I have gets to hear me talk about Mary Lee and her new business umpteen million times? Just like her friends and her dates hear endlessly about me?

As much as I wonder about whether my relationship with B, the man I have been seeing, will lead to our eventually deciding to make a bigger commitment and/or live together at some future date, I can also see buying a house or a piece of land with BFF Mary Lee as a safer commitment. So many of the ambiguities of my relationship with a romantic partner would not kick into living with Mary Lee, and the risks of our having a falling out over sexual issues or ending our romantic relationship seem a lot smaller since we’re starting off as friends, not (and basically never) lovers.

On a similar note, Mary Lee and I are reasonably income compatible. Although I think she’s generally more extravagant than I am, what we can afford to spend, on everything from a house to entertainment to food, is more or less in the same ball park. While she’s way fonder of béarnaise sauce, Ring Dings and mashed potatoes than I am (as is B), our overall food sensibilities (healthy, organic, local) are close enough that neither one of us is going to have to resuscitate the other after a Big Mac attack or tackle carotene poisoning from overdoing it with carrot-beet-soy shakes in the juicer.

And finally, Mary Lee and I share similar values. Reformed and one-time hyper New Yorkers, we’ve both learned in California to more deeply embrace loving kindness, mindfulness, and an appreciation for drinking morning coffee in a hot tub that only the Left Coast can nurture. Politically progressive, welcoming, and open-minded, we’re both focused on social justice, giving back to the community and being a part of diverse communities—values that make the time we spend together, alone and with friends, rich and interesting.

On the other hand, another dream Mary Lee and I share is that each of us would like to meet and develop a deep relationship with a lover and have that relationship become a central part of our life. For Mary Lee, it’s pretty much about meeting someone she can share a life with and living happily ever after; for me it’s about sharing an open but committed relationship with someone as the center of a loving community. Either way, we have romantic aspirations that neither one of us is going to fulfill with the BFF.

Recently, when Mary Lee had a brief rekindled romance with an old friend, and thought about whether she’d go off to Puerto Rico to live with him, I had a brief moment of panic. “But what about me?” I said. “You can live with him, but you can’t go that far!”

“I thought about that,” she replied, much to my amazement (and delight). “But then I decided it just wouldn’t work out anyway so I didn’t have to bother thinking about that.”

And that’s kind of where, to be honest, I’ve also netted out. Which is just waiting and seeing how things evolve.

And yet, in many ways, my thinking about wanting my BFF to be my life partner has progressed to where I can admit she’s a valid choice, a good choice even. And yet I ask myself how much she’s also the fall back, the spare pair, the ace in the hole, the leading non-romantic light in my creating a family of choice—and whether that’s okay. I admit that I sometimes wonder whether making a lifetime commitment to support and even live with my BFF would not only be simpler and more efficient than trying to be live with and be partners with a (as yet to be fully known and understood) man, but might (most radical thought of all) not necessarily preclude hooking up with that dream man.

Or to put it another way, is there a reason you couldn’t make a deep commitment to both your BFF and a guy?

Related links (Interesting blogs)

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