How can I marry my best friend?

Should you date (and maybe even marry) your best friend? That question's been the topic of countless rom-coms. But beyond the big screen, some scientists are now pointing to evidence that says marrying your best friend is something you might want to consider saying "I do" to.A new paper published by the National Bureau of Economic Research, which controlled for pre-marriage happiness levels, found

Should you date (and maybe even marry) your best friend? That question's been the topic of countless rom-coms. But beyond the big screen, some scientists are now pointing to evidence that says marrying your best friend is something you might want to consider saying "I do" to.

A new paper published by the National Bureau of Economic Research, which controlled for pre-marriage happiness levels, found that married people are both happier and more satisfied with their lives than those who remain single. And the satisfaction the reportedly lasted for decades, not fading away after the "honeymoon" period.

One reason the study gives for why marriages remain so satisfying, is the role of friendship. The study found that the "well-being effects of marriage are about twice as large for those whose spouse is also their best friend."

According to the study, women benefit more from being married to their best friend than men do. But, women are also less likely to regard their spouse as their best friend.

Additionally, Bravo, in conjunction with its new show, "Friends to Lovers," conducted a poll of 1,000 people nationwide found that about 1/3 of those who tried to find love with their best friends, made it to the alter. 

On February 25, 2021, I turned 30 and married my platonic soulmate, Chiderah. In our tiny Berlin flat, dressed in white, we exchanged vows and rings in front of three friends. The ceremony was makeshift and haphazard, sprung from the messy exhaustion of a winter in lockdown. Surrounded by pink and silver balloons and glitter, we ate homemade cheesecake and smiled for Polaroid photos.

As in many marriages, Chiderah and I pledged to spend our lives together in a partnership based on caregiving and emotional support. Unlike most marriages, we’ve also decided to not make romance the hallmark of our relationship.

Chiderah is straight, and I am gay. We don’t have sex. We are not in love in the traditional sense. This leaves many around us confused as to how this relationship came to be and how it currently functions. The truth of our situation is: I have someone to come home to, whom I share household duties with, who takes care of me and makes me happy. We have found in each other the unconditional love and acceptance we’ve always dreamed of. But, to understand our whole story, we must go back a little further.

When Chiderah and I first met, there was a spark but not of the romantic kind. It was the end of February 2019, at Hotel Ocho in Toronto for an evening date. I arrived early, and she was late. But we both felt it — the instant connection and eternal knowing that sets you ablaze and leaves you stunned in the way only someone you are destined to meet can inspire.

We had connected through Hinge after a few flirty exchanges and arranged to meet in person. Chiderah was exploring her sexuality, thinking at the time she might be queer. I had been out as a lesbian for years and was committed in my attraction to women. Despite Chiderah ultimately realizing she is straight, little did we know that, at the time, this was a love story unfolding.

When I first saw her, I knew Chiderah was awe-inspiring and I was intrigued. She was fox-eyed with a gaze that could swallow you whole. She had dimpled cheeks, a sweet, bashful smile, and dark brown skin with gold undertones that reflected the ambient light of the restaurant. Chiderah remembers me as having great teeth, which I hid behind auburn lipstick in a mischievous smirk.

We fell into an easy rhythm of conversation that felt effortless, like a breath of fresh air. There was no judgment between us, just an open, candid, and honest realness that I had forgotten existed in the world. My life was filled with acquaintances, the kind of no-strings-attached, casual friendships that never advanced to the level of ride-or-die I yearned for. I wanted loyalty, commitment, love, acceptance, and understanding. Chiderah did too.

It would ultimately take a year for either of us to realize that we were exactly what the other was looking for. But, as Chiderah and I embarked on a friendship after realizing we weren’t a romantic match, what we did know is that when we were together, magic happened. It was the kind so palpable, so galvanizing that, in July, Chiderah and I sold nearly everything we owned, packed up what little we could into our suitcases, and said goodbye to our home city of Toronto — a city where our opportunities were dwindling and our cost of living remained high — and moved to Berlin.

We were ready for a new journey that has since breathed new life into the classic words “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish.” After all, there is a kind of indomitable commitment that can come with moving to another country together — especially during a pandemic. And, at the time, Canada was one of 15 epidemiologically safe countries from which residents could directly enter the European Union by plane. So, after transferring through Amsterdam and arriving in Lisbon, we spent a month socially distancing on the beach before heading to our new home city.

In our first couple months in Berlin, our careers began to take off: She was signed to a modeling agency, and I won a grant to write a memoir. We got two matching tattoos, the second of which reads “kismet” — fate or destiny — in cursive across our right wrists. Our new life together abroad felt secure, exciting, and brimming with opportunity, and both Chiderah and I couldn’t have been happier to share it all with each other.

But, in our first months in Berlin, we went through a lot — bedbugs, depression, moving (multiple times), heartbreak — the trials and tribulations that can make or break a relationship. Being in close quarters soon began to test us. For a couple weeks, it seemed like our friendship might not endure our differences. We have contrasting standards of care when it comes to cleanliness. Chiderah is an early riser, and I like to sleep in. She is assertive. I am not. On a deeper level, though, we are two people with disorders that inform everything in our lives, which makes it hard to make lasting connections. I have borderline personality disorder. When I feel emotion, it is a tidal wave. It does not slowly rise to the surface; it overwhelms in a single surge. My nervous system has a heightened sensitivity to threats of danger and is ignited easily. My body can quickly jump into and between states of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. I have a tendency to self-victimize and deflect accountability, unable to see how my behavior impacts others, especially those who love me. People give up, exasperated.

Chiderah has bipolar disorder. She never believed she’d make it to 25, which she did in August. Her childhood was scourged by an abusive mother, racist bullying at school, and suicide attempts. She couldn’t imagine a future for herself, let alone with someone else — until she met me. She takes flight into days-long episodes of mania, during which anger seethes out of her. A forest fire ravaging everything in its wake, her lengthy tangents filled with cruel words can’t be taken back, and alienate loved ones.

But, what we’ve both realized is that, sometimes, it takes meeting another person who knows what hell feels like to get through that hell. When Chiderah would explode over minor setbacks or perceived slights, I’d calm her down, encourage her to sleep on her emotions and think before reacting. When I was in the throes of learned helplessness, she’d force me to pause, look at myself, and ask why I couldn’t be my own salvation. Whenever either one of us has an episode, there is no subsequent apology tour or broken bridge, just space — space to breathe, to f--k up, to be human, messy, and unhinged.

In that moment that I began to realize the love I’d been waiting for all along was right there in front of my eyes.

In January 2021, things ended between me and a person I’d been seeing. I spent days in anguish, my mind spiraling out of control, my body sick with anxiety, wondering desperately why no one loved me. As I lay in bed heartbroken, February nevertheless approached, and we had to move again, hopefully to a more permanent living solution. In my anguish, Chiderah took control of the situation and researched options for us. Eventually, she found a flat, and we booked it. All the while, she cooked, cleaned, and helped me gain back my strength. It was in that moment that I began to realize the love I’d been waiting for all along was right there in front of my eyes.

For months, we had warmly joked about being married with a kid, given how tied at the hip we are and that we co-parent a dog. But what started out as tongue in cheek slowly became real. We’d nursed each other back to life in moments of despair when our brains tried to convince us that life wasn’t worth living anymore. We’d truly broken through to a point of mutual respect, trust, support, boundaries, and communication. We couldn’t imagine our lives without each other and knew our relationship was more than as best friends, that we were meant to be together. That we are platonic soulmates.

In February 2021, two weeks before my birthday, Chiderah proposed and, in tears, I said yes. We ordered matching gold-plated moonstone rings online, stand-ins for the day when we can afford something lavish.

Chiderah (left) and Deidre (right) on their wedding day in Berlin.

For Chiderah and me, romance has repeatedly subtracted more than it has added to our lives. Society has taught us that we must relentlessly pursue being found sexually attractive or chosen as a mate. This has often come at the expense of everything else beautiful in life and relationships, causing us to put ourselves second and gamble with our own self-interests and self-esteem. By taking sex and romance out of the equation, Chiderah and I have created space to show up for each other in far more meaningful ways.

We celebrate each other’s achievements without feeling jealous or inadequate. We love each other unconditionally and without judgment. And while, at present, we both seek casual sex and companionship outside of our relationship, in the future anything is possible. We are open to our paradigm evolving and growing. That means, if either of us meets someone and things get more serious, there is space to explore what that means for our dynamic. For now, we are planning a future together — one with another dog, maybe children, in a two-story flat we own, filled with family vacations, creative enterprises, and the unbridled, unapologetic happiness we share now and always will.

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