The Heartfelt Need To Call Someone My Best Friend

All my life, I have yearned for two simple, yet profoundly significant things. First, I wanted to marry my best friend—a wish that’s now fulfilled beyond my dreams. Second, I’ve longed to have a best friend who was not my spouse, someone with whom I could share the unique, unspoken bond that complements the intimacy of marriage.

I have the first thing; my lesbian marriage to Amelia Phoenix Desertsong is based on the profound and often uncelebrated beauty of platonic love. We are bound not by the typical romantic ties that often define unions, but by an unbreakable friendship that often defies conventional understanding. Our relationship is rooted in a deep, mutual respect and an unwavering support for one another that is both rare and precious. And while I have a truly incredible relationship with my wife, I long for a lifelong friendship outside of my marriage.

Friendship, to me, is not a passive relationship; it is an epic journey, a relentless giving of oneself. When I call someone a friend, it is more than a mere label—it is a lifelong vow. I will go to the ends of the earth for a friend, embodying the kind of devotion that only fiction authors would write about. For my friends, I spare no expense; I will think nothing of risking it all, if that’s what the situation demands. This intensity, however, is not borne from expectation of reciprocity, but rather from a profound belief in what friendship could, and should be.

However, this depth of friendship requires a rare kind of mutuality. I need a friend who will give back what I give to them, not in measure, but in effort and sincerity. I seek someone who understands the gravity of true companionship, who recognizes that friendship is not just about sharing joys and sorrows, but also about shouldering burdens without keeping score.

Sadly, such a friend I have yet to find. This absence is a void in my heart, a space filled with echoes of what could have been. It is a longing for a connection that is as fierce in loyalty as it is gentle in understanding. I am left pondering whether this ideal of friendship is too grand for reality, or perhaps, it is simply that my path has not yet crossed with someone who shares this vision.

It’s a form of sadness, deep and poignant—the lack of a friend who sees the soul behind the words, who understands that my extravagant gestures are not simply bids for attention, but expressions of a heart that knows no other way to love. This is not to diminish the love I share with Amelia, who is indeed my best friend in every beautiful, romantic, and enduring way. Yet, my heart is capable of harboring different forms of love, respect, admiration, and dedication.

As I continue this journey, the search for a kindred spirit remains undimmed. I remain hopeful, for to relinquish hope would be to deny the very essence of who I am. So, here I am, still searching, still hoping, and still believing in the extraordinary power of true friendship.

May 10, 2024


  • Christopher

    I’m very happy you and Amelia have found each other; it’s an all too rare thing to marry your best friend, but it’s great when it happens. It must also have taken a lot of courage to make that commitment, to open yourselves so fully to each other. To say so clearly the kind of friend you’re still looking for takes a lot of courage too.

    I also know friendships like that sometimes have to be forged. I wouldn’t wish any trouble on you but if you’re in a situation where you need a friend like that you’ll find one.

    • Thomas Slatin

      To elucidate, I had a profoundly meaningful friendship that began when we were both eight years old. He and I shared our childhoods, our daily lives intertwined deeply. Even when I attended boarding school, we maintained our connection, eagerly reuniting during school breaks to spend every possible moment together. At the age of sixteen, I confided in him about my identity as a lesbian—an admission that hardly surprised him. Next to Amelia, he was the epitome of understanding and acceptance, despite his own strict heterosexuality. As we matured into adulthood, our support for each other was unwavering. He faced a tumultuous family life, and I stood by him as he battled substance abuse issues, even becoming his primary support during his stint in rehab. Post-rehabilitation, we enjoyed some of the most memorable times of our early adult lives. Tragically, his life took a downward spiral after a painful divorce and the loss of custody of his children. He relapsed into substance abuse and ultimately passed away, leaving an irreplaceable void in my heart that has persisted unfilled. 🙁

  • Jay-lyn Doerksen

    Beautifully written. And the friendship is out there. Sometimes though it is not just one sole single person but a core group. Much like the companion group that one finds in all the fantasy books of epic journeys. Not everyone understands the whole of you but they understand the whole of you that they see. So sometimes there is more than one because not all parts of you is visible to one person. And this is not because you pretend or hide it away it is just how life is. I enjoyed this read.

    • Thomas Slatin

      Amelia and I are increasingly coming to the realization that friendships outside of our marriage, which itself is rooted in a deep bond of friendship, may be relics of a bygone era and, thus, may no longer be viable. Having a best friend is something I have yearned for my entire life.

  • Content Catnip

    I am so sorry to hear about your friend Thomas. It sounds like this really was something special. I wish and hope you have many opportunities to connect and be friends with people in this deep way. Big hugs!


Please Leave A Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Discover more from Thomas Slatin

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading