I Hate My Best Friend's Husband, Okay?

I Hate My Best Friend's Husband, Okay?

I hate your husband.

There, I said it.

Not in the “he kicks puppies” way—

just in the he doesn’t deserve you and it drives me insane way.

He’s got charm, sure.

He knows how to work a room,

make a perfect Old Fashioned,

quote obscure movies like it’s a personality trait.

Classic Aquarius energy—

witty, opinionated, thinks he’s a genius because

he read half a philosophy book once

and remembered one quote.

People like him.

That might be the worst part.

He’s likable.

And he knows it.

The world hands him applause

for the bare minimum,

and he eats it up like chips on a couch

he’s been “meaning to vacuum” since 2021.

But you?

You’ve got a damn master’s degree.

You could be running things.

You could be publishing, teaching, building something big.

And instead you’re taking double shifts

because he wants to “figure it out creatively”

while he... what?

Spends four hours organizing his vinyls

and telling everyone he's "in between projects"?

He doesn't push you.

He doesn’t lift you up.

He lets you dim.

And I see it every time you say

“It’s fine, I’m just tired.”

You used to dream out loud.

Now you shrink your sentences

so they don’t clash with his ego.

You laugh less.

You apologize more.

You carry both of you,

and he calls it “partnership.”

I want to scream.

I want to lock you in a room with a mirror

and remind you who the hell you are.

You don’t need saving,

but God, I wish he acted like you were worth showing up for.

I wish he matched you, even a little.

But hey, at least the cocktails are good.

Cheers to that, I guess.

Cheers to you still being brilliant,

even if he can’t see it clearly

through the fog of his own reflection.