My Best Friend's Sister

This started out as a reply to a post in another blog.  


Books, Adventure, and Life, April 11, 2012: Friends For Life


It grew into a monster with a life of its own. 

When I was growing up I regarded my best friend’s sister as a little snot.  She was four years younger than me and, well, existed in a different world from cool world of young lads.  She was something of a fixture at my friend's house that was constantly there, but rarely noticed.  When you are 16 and she is 12, well...there is not much commonality--she was just a little snot to be ignored and stepped around.   

Then one day I turned 25 and came home from the Air Force with about as much going for me as the day I graduated from high school, except I now no longer had to worry about a non-existent draft.  All my friends were married, owned homes, and had established careers.  They were adults and I was some kid that had emerged in a strange world where all the rules had changed.  The economy was bad, my father had a debilitating stroke, and my plans to make a life in California had went up in smoke.  I start drinking a lot.  

One day I ran into this little snot of a sister, but she was now 21 and looked damned good.  It is amazing how little girls grow up to be lovely women when you been gone for four years. 

We had a polite chat, and in my mind cold calculations were being conducted.  Damn she is fine, but what in the hell would she see in a loser like me, I make enough money to pay rent and keep myself in beer.  I ran into her again.  Wow, she seemed happy to see me.  How about lunch?  I take her to McDonalds.  We chat.  I liked how her eyes lit up when she laughed.  She looked me in the eye and smiled a lot when she talked to me.  She patted my hand and arm.  She had a sexy way of eating french fries. 

I asked her out to dinner fully expecting a polite decline.  She accepted!  We went on a few more dates but I fully expected this to go south at any moment because I was a loser working in a gas station and had a weakness for beer.  But she saw something in me, something that I could not see in myself.  I quit drinking and start looking for a decent job.  

We kept seeing each other and we became something of an item.  She still lived at home and her parents were religious, as was she, and they were rightfully a bit concerned.  They didn't like my drinking and the fact that my father was an alcoholic did not help, and I still did not have a decent job.  The economy was in the pits from the expense and decline of the war in Vietnam, the early oil crises, and the beginnings of stagflation.  

We were falling in love with each other.  One Saturday afternoon we were going to go for a "long drive in the country, have dinner, and drive back."  Um huh!  We went to my apartment instead.  At 25 my virginity was long gone, never the less, she made a man out of me that afternoon.  I had never made love to a woman before...I only had experienced somewhat drunken mindless sex with perhaps an inkling of romance but certainly not love, and in any case I was not exactly a Don Juan with numerous notches in my bed post.  

In our minds, the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony took place in our bed on that afternoon. She could tell you the date that my bed became our bed.   The modest affair that took place in a church two years later was simply notification to the rest of the world and quite frankly was almost meaningless in comparison.  The Union of our Souls had taken place two years prior and had been reaffirmed quite frequently in the interim.  The Union  that occurred in our bed was heaven on earth, and was attended only by people who loved us--her and I.  The affair the in the church?  Well there were some people attending who were less than enamored with our marriage.  Tough shit folks, get used to the idea.         

We have been together since.  Like all married couples, we have had our ups and downs, our triumphs and tragedies.  We sometimes argue, but have never gone to bed mad at each other.  Being a man I sometime hurt her through neglect and pig headedness.  Being a woman, she always forgives me and still loves me in spite of myself.  We are still very much in love.  

We still manage to fly each other off to Oz in our bed...not as often or with the pile driving intensity of yesteryear. Arthritis will tend to dampen the gyrations but time, age, and companionship increases the love. Instead of the anxiety filled NASA launches of years ago where all systems must be go for a perfect flight to Oz, now it is two old friends on a beat to hell mattress strolling down the yellow brick road holding hands in a relaxed, comfortable, gentle, love filled embrace.  Oz is Oz despite how one may get there  Hot passion has been replaced with comfortable love and it is very sweet.  We are woman and man, husband and wife, best friends forever, and old comfortable lovers.  

   

Things change when you start sleeping with your best friend's sister.  For a while, I think we were regarded as not good enough for each other.  I was some guy that could drink too much and would probably start again, and I ended up working in a factory.  I was a blue collar potential drunk.  On the other hand, she was his dippy sister, and he never liked his sisters paying attention to his friends.  My wife and I frequently felt a bit like black sheep in our early days neither of us were quite good enough. 

Things change while you keep on sleeping with your best friend’s sister. I have not been drunk since 1974 and I could probably count on fingers and toes how many beers I have had since.  I will have an occasional glass of wine, but to be honest it gives me a headache, and I would just as soon drink a diet coke.  My blue collar job turned slightly white, I worked as a non-professional engineer and enjoyed the best of both worlds, a professional like job with union protection and pay.  Yeah, I got to do all the dumb engineering jobs that nobody else wanted, and the ones that involved a lot of travel, but I got paid time and half and double time for anything over 40 hours a week.   My brother in law and I are closer now even though I am still sleeping with his sister--but he is no longer my best friend.  Its been 35 years since the church wedding and 37 years ago since the real wedding...that day when the little snot made a decent human being out of me in one afternoon of heaven on earth.  To me it was the afternoon that my Soulmate and I were wedded.  I loved her then, and love her yet to the core of my being.   My best friend while growing up is now my best friend's brother--I really love sleeping with his sister.