Why Gabbie Stroud married her Best Friend (and it’s not who you think!)

Read a piece by The Angry Wives Club author Gabbie Stroud.

I recently re-married and let me tell you, this guy is everything I hoped for and more. He reads! He cooks! He thinks I’m hilarious! He knows the difference between they’re, their and there. Swoon! Nearly two years on and we’re still pathetic newlyweds but Mr Perfect knows ours is not the only life-long commitment I’ve formally made.

I’ve also married my best friend. It happened the day I accidentally trapped myself inside my own house.

Let me explain.

I was single and about five years post-divorce; a relationship that required lots of processing and recovery. I was hustling a few different jobs whilst also writing novels and caring for my daughters.  On my good days, I’d say life felt busy but the reality was I mostly felt like I was in a chaotic freefall; hurtling through time and space unsure of where the parachute rip cord might be found or if I even remembered to pack one.

At some time in this free fall, my daughters – both in primary school – were ready for newer, bigger beds. So I sold the bunks they’d shared in our small apartment on Facebook’s infamous Buy, Sell and Swap. Of course the buyer couldn’t meet me for pick up, so the arrangement was made that I’d dismantle the bunks and leave them out in my driveway. No problem! I thought. I could dismantle bunks.

Turns out I couldn’t. Turns out bunks are bloody awkward and heavy. And it turns out that if you pull bunks apart in a small bedroom and manoeuvre them in just the right kind of way, you can trap yourself in a room with only your phone and your life choices to keep you company.

I called my friend Nat. She was non-plussed by my dilemma and arrived with drill in hand. Within minutes she’d rescued me from the maze of beds and within a few minutes more, the beds were in neat, planked pieces.

“Why didn’t you call me before you started?” she asked over the mattresses.

I shrugged and realised with a sense of shame that I was going to cry.

“We have to call each other,” Nat said. “When we need help with things like this.”

I sniffed and nodded, knowing that Nat understood. She was also divorced, single, raising two girls and hurtling through the sky.

“Let’s agree to call each other,” Nat said.

“I will,” I said and I felt myself committing to that promise. “And you have to call me,” I added.

“I will,” she smiled and packed up her drill bits.

“Let’s make a promise,” I said as my shame fell away and a fortifying new idea took its place. “Let’s promise to be the person we’d rely on in the same way we want to rely on a spouse.”

Nat considered the idea. “A good spouse,” she clarified. “Not a lazy-arse husband.”

“No, not that,” I laughed. “But a proper partner. Someone you can ask to help you with the crappy jobs, like dismantling bunks.”

By this stage Nat was plugging in the vacuum. She wanted to clean up the dust where the beds had been. She’s a powerhouse like that.

“I get it,” she said over the roar of the cleaner. “Like feeding my cats when I’m away for work.”

“Done!” I said. “Like making a meal for one another when we’ve got a busy week.”

“Airport runs.”

“Picking up the kids.”

“Helping with home improvements.”

“You’ll be my wifey.”

“And I’ll be yours.”

We looked at one another over bed slats and a pile of doonas. I can’t remember what we said next, but I remember the feeling. It was a definite I do.

Nat and I have been married ever since. She walks my dog when I’m on deadline. I feed her cats when she’s away. I’ve cooked for her. She’s cleaned for me. Our friendship extends beyond coffee catch ups and long phone calls. Nat’s the person I know I can rely on, no matter the circumstances.  I’m so glad I got trapped by those bunk beds that day. Nat and I still laugh about it: Bunk Bed Day – the day best friends became Wifeys.

The The Angry Wives Club by Gabbie Stroud is March 31.

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The Angry Wives Club

by Gabbie Stroud

Domestic noir with a chick-lit twist: a story of laughter, sisterhood, and women daring to do things differently.

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