Throughout my life I have had a lot of friends. I have had good friends, great friends, ok friends, bad friends and just about every category in between. I have had friends who I talk to every day and friends I only talk to once in a while. I have had periods of time where I only had a couple of people I would call a friend and other times where I had too many friends to keep up with. All in all I have felt very blessed in the friendship category.
About two years ago I lost my best friend. We were "sisters" for a decade and, as sometimes happens, our friendship changed to the point where it just ended. I still miss her every day and if I thought that reconnecting would bring good things to my life I would probably call her. I have learned, however, that sometimes the end of something is a good thing and you are both better off without the other and that is OK.
I am sitting here tonight, in my recliner, hockey on television, a paper to finish for school and instead of working on that paper I am stewing about the state of one particular friendship in my life. A friendship that has been slowly deteriorating despite my best efforts and how literally overnight I have gone from best friend to scapegoat.
See, my friend went through a nasty and surprising divorce that left her reeling. I stopped my world and put her at the front of the list. Homework waited, other friends waited, husband (in many instances) waited and I took care of my friend. I hurt for her, I hurt with her, and I wanted to make things better. We went out drinking, we went out dancing, we went out to heal her wounds and, I won't lie, it was a lot of fun for a while. Then she met a guy - a guy who hit on both of us at a bar and only "picked" one of us when I flashed my wedding ring.
Divorced less than a month she locked onto this guy like a drowning woman with a life raft. The night we met him she, rightfully, thought he was a player and she treated him with dripping disdain. I encouraged her to relax and just enjoy being flirted with - besides, it wasn't like she wanted to date the guy.
Famous last words.
Needless to say, now they are attached at the hip - and every other notable body part. The rest of the world can take it or go to hell. I spoke up to say that he is just as shady as she thought that first night, that gut feelings never lie, that something wasn't right about the guy and of course that just made me the enemy. I have always known better than to try to talk sense into someone being snowed by a used car salesman. EVERYONE knows better - but I spoke up anyway and I suppose being cut out of her life is my penance.
OK - so that is a little melodramatic. I wasn't entirely cut out. I was just relegated to a supporting role with only one speaking line and that line had better be something like "just so long as you are happy I am happy" or some other placating bullshit. Unfortunately, I am not really wired that way. I tend to say what I think and I guess that is where the scapegoat part comes in...
Saturday night my friend's daughter was babysitting for me and was going to spend the night. Upon my arrival home at 1:30 am she and my child were still awake so I offered her the option to go home to her own bed or sleep on my couch. She preferred her bed to my couch so we tried to call my friend and let her know about the change in plans. We couldn't reach my friend, but her daughter assured me that it was fine for her to be at home for a while alone and it wasn't an uncommon occurrance so we set out for their house.
We got there and when the daughter opened the garage door my friend's car was there. At that point I was confused because she was home yet had not been answering her phone so I called and left a "sorry for the change in plans and dropping your daughter off early" message. I indicated that I had "plans" at home *giggle giggle* and give me a call tomorrow. At no time did it ever occur to me that I was about to become Public Enemy Number 1 and the scapegoat for all that could potentially ever go wrong in this friend's relationship with her daughter, boyfriend, pope, preschool teacher, hair stylist and manicurist.
I left 2 messages for my friend on Sunday and never heard anything from her. That wasn't all that unusual since The Boyfriend entered the picture, but it was slightly irritating. Then today I stayed home sick and when I finally got out of bed and checked my email I had the most incredibly cruel email I have ever gotten. It said that I was a terrible person that I would drop her daughter off at home with no regard for what she might walk in on. I had no regard for her daughter's self esteem and I put her well being at risk for my own selfish purposes. I got to read that I am a horrible person and I put my own selfish desires ahead of the well being of a child. I got to read that she can't have "someone like me" in her life because a friend wouldn't do something so horrible.
I spent most of the day trying to call my friend who won't answer her phone or return my calls. I spent the rest of the day responding to her email. It took me about 3 hours to get it worded just right. You know what I mean - that mix of "I'm pissed but I want to acknowledge that you are pissed but I don't want to piss you off more but I am really pissed and want to tell you what I think." Now I am sitting here shocked, awed, confused, heart broken and, more than anything else, PISSED.
Let's break this down point by point:
1. She is dating some guy and is worried about how it might affect her daughter, but instead of TALKING to her daugter about it or SLOWING DOWN the relationship she found the perfect opportunity to blame any negative impact on me. Man...I better take notes because I might be able to learn enough skills from her that I can foist my student loan debt off onto some unsuspecting innocent.
2. She jumped headlong into a relationship with a guy who declared undying love and devotion after less than a month and when I spoke up saying, "isn't this a little fast?" I became the anti-Christ. I made him feel "unwelcome" and he refuses to hang out with me or my husband.
3. She demanded a birthday party so we threw a bash at which she was one of the guest's of honor and after 2 hours she left the party to go home because her boyfriend "didn't want to drive all the way to our house."
4. I love her and her daughter and being a responsible adult and parent myself I would NEVER do anything to purposefully put anyone in harm's way. I mean - she isn't a stupid kid - she knows the ways of the world and if finding her mother's boyfriend at their house is so terrible for the kid's well being why is the mother dating him in the first place?
5. I love that I am the horrible friend yet she doesn't even have the decency to CALL when she has a major issue. Just a few weeks ago she was trashing another person we know who used email to pass along a difficult message. We berated that person for copping out and taking the easy road and being a chicken shit. Then here we are - supposed best friends - and she does the same bullshit thing. I mean - pick up the phone or stop by for a chat for fuck's sake. You're a big girl - you have things that cruel to say to me at least say them to my fucking face.
I think what my friend is the most pissed off about is that she and her MAN were probably at home getting ready to get their freak on and I spoiled their little den of sin by bringing her daughter home early. All she had to do was answer the phone. I can show you 4 people who were there when we tried to call. But NO...instead I am a horrible person who disregards the safety and well being of children. I am a thoughtless slut who would rather abandon a poor, unsuspecting child just to get laid myself.
Are they still looking for a scapegoat for the assassination of Kennedy? How about high gas prices? Oh...I know...the Exxon Valdez...I will be the scapegoat for all of that and if I am really,really lucky maybe my friend can find a way to make me the scapegoat for both her divorces and the cost of her mortgage.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Holidays and I don't seem to get along...
I've never met a holiday that didn't make me sick. Literally. I was sick on Christmas and got to spend the whole day in bed. Insert random holidays and we arrive at Easter. I was very excited because this Easter was the first year Drew would be old enough to really get excited about hunting for eggs. We bought 2 of the 18 packs and dyed them. We put together a great Easter basket and we were ready.
Alas...my sickly pattern struck again...I ended up waking up on Sunday morning not feeling so good. I spent most of the day trying to encourage myself to crawl out of bed - it never really worked. Drew and I watched movies and he played in his room a lot.
Poor, sweet boy - he really was sweet all day. I was miserable.
Needless to say, there was no Easter dinner, no Easter egg hunt and in the end NO EASTER.
When Eric got home from work he gave Drew the Easter basket, but that is all the poor kid got. It's no wonder I hate holidays - they always seem to go awry. That's without the bazillon of hard boiled Easter eggs I have to figure out what to do with.
As a side note - I called in sick to work on Monday and first thing this morning I went to the doctor. Turns out that I have strep throat. God bless whoever invented amoxicillan. The doctor gave me that super high dose stuff and it is amazing how fast it works. I am out of work one more day, but should be back on my game Thursday morning.
This strep thing sucks - can't yawn, can't eat, can't even swallow. I don't even want to tell you about what it feels like to sneeze - mainly because I don't want to remember...
Alas...my sickly pattern struck again...I ended up waking up on Sunday morning not feeling so good. I spent most of the day trying to encourage myself to crawl out of bed - it never really worked. Drew and I watched movies and he played in his room a lot.
Poor, sweet boy - he really was sweet all day. I was miserable.
Needless to say, there was no Easter dinner, no Easter egg hunt and in the end NO EASTER.
When Eric got home from work he gave Drew the Easter basket, but that is all the poor kid got. It's no wonder I hate holidays - they always seem to go awry. That's without the bazillon of hard boiled Easter eggs I have to figure out what to do with.
As a side note - I called in sick to work on Monday and first thing this morning I went to the doctor. Turns out that I have strep throat. God bless whoever invented amoxicillan. The doctor gave me that super high dose stuff and it is amazing how fast it works. I am out of work one more day, but should be back on my game Thursday morning.
This strep thing sucks - can't yawn, can't eat, can't even swallow. I don't even want to tell you about what it feels like to sneeze - mainly because I don't want to remember...
Thursday, March 2, 2006
Is procrastination a disease?
OK - so I know that there are a lot of horrible afflictions out there, but I would like to take this opportunity to shed some light on a horrible disease that we must work to identify a cure for...PROCRASTINATION.
As a sufferer of this horrible illness I would like to request that we organize a walk or a fundraiser of some kind. There are thousands of people out there who currently valiantly attempt to function while suffering through the throes of procrastination. There are those who find it difficult to achieve even the most menial task - they can't do laundry or dishes. They can't complete homework assignments. It's truly and completely tragic.
So, I ask you to join us in our fundraising efforts. Let's work together to raise one million dollars so at least one sufferer of procrastination can live out their life never needing to start or complete any tasks every again.
Thank you.
As a sufferer of this horrible illness I would like to request that we organize a walk or a fundraiser of some kind. There are thousands of people out there who currently valiantly attempt to function while suffering through the throes of procrastination. There are those who find it difficult to achieve even the most menial task - they can't do laundry or dishes. They can't complete homework assignments. It's truly and completely tragic.
So, I ask you to join us in our fundraising efforts. Let's work together to raise one million dollars so at least one sufferer of procrastination can live out their life never needing to start or complete any tasks every again.
Thank you.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
A Fairy Tale
A FAIRY TALE
Once upon a time there was a girl. She was a little neurotic, a little tough and a little wild - not so different from girls everywhere. Her whole life she believed that she would grow up, meet the man of her dreams in some incredibly romantic way and then live happily ever after. Like Cinderella she would get a gorgeous prince that came and rescued her from mean people and housework. Life had other plans.
Life threw distractions at her - tried to fake her out with every man but the right one. First, there was the one she was in love with the idea of being in love with. Then life sent her the one that she really wanted to love but just couldn't find the place in her heart for. He moved away only to reappear years later and propose marriage. She didn't have a place for him then either.
Next came the one she thought she loved and who ended up being a good friend instead. She spent almost 7 years with that one and learned what it meant to be loved and hated all at the same time. Somewhere in there came the one that reminded her she was sexy and beautiful - followed immediately by the one that was the definition of wrong place, wrong time and whose memory would forever remind her of what it felt like to be a cheater. Then came the one who broke her heart for the first time in her life - she could have done without that one.
At this point it seemed utterly ridiculous to even entertain the possibility that true, life-altering love was out there. Why did she care about some smelly boy loving her anyway? Aren't they from Mars? The inner feminist bellowed - "I don't need some beer swilling, boob ogling Martian to give me self-worth! Me and my self-worth are just fine on our own, thank you very much!" She settled in and decided that love was not all it was cracked up to be and besides, sex and the single life were a lot more fun anyway.
So off she went - to the personal ads, to the bars, on one notable occasion to the tattoo parlor, to anywhere guys congregated and she dragged a friend or two into the fray with her. Then came "the corner."
How bizarre to pass by a corner in the middle of the night and see him there. He was all that she imagined when she was younger and Lloyd Dobbler was the perfect man (OK so Lloyd Dobbler is still the perfect man, but that is beside the point). He was tall. He had dark hair and gorgeous eyes. He had broad shoulders and a nice ass. He must be homeless or schizophrenic. Setting her cynicism aside she thought, "If the picture in my head of what the perfect guy looks like can come to life and be standing here in front of me with no visible defects then maybe true love can exist, too." So, smart or not, she made her move. Granted - it wasn't the typical move, but at least there was still that part of her willing to put herself out there and attempt to snare her very own boob ogling Martian. That one-night-stand turned into many nights and eventually something else.
Flash forward a few years. The man of her dreams is now her husband and the world continues to turn. Some days things are all about just loving each other. Most days are about just living. Work, school, bills, kid...RESPONSIBILITIES. She never believed those Calgon commercials, but now she lives them - minus the giant bathtub full of bubbles. Hot baths are no longer about candles, bubbles and a glass of wine. Hot baths are now just an opportunity to to shave her legs without having to balance on one leg.
Sometimes another life winks at her from off in the distance and she wonders what it would be like to visit...and then he looks at her. He looks at her and she remembers what that first smile felt like. The way her whole body went weak the first time their lips touched. The night he gave her roses and told her he loved her for the first time. The way they got up one morning and got married. They way they sat up smoking and drinking wine while they made the scariest (and best) decision of their lives.
Everything she needs is in that look. It tells her that she is beautiful. That she is desired. That she is capable and smart. It reminds her that she would be just fine on her own, but is the luckiest woman in the world to have him standing beside her. That look tells her she is funny and friendly and amazing for her quirks.
She may not have had the prince take her away from mean people and housework, but she got strength and courage and fearlessness. She got beauty and passion and wonder. She got the daily reminder that the world hasn't gone crazy because love is out there - even if sometimes it is standing on a street corner in the middle of the night!
~THE END
Once upon a time there was a girl. She was a little neurotic, a little tough and a little wild - not so different from girls everywhere. Her whole life she believed that she would grow up, meet the man of her dreams in some incredibly romantic way and then live happily ever after. Like Cinderella she would get a gorgeous prince that came and rescued her from mean people and housework. Life had other plans.
Life threw distractions at her - tried to fake her out with every man but the right one. First, there was the one she was in love with the idea of being in love with. Then life sent her the one that she really wanted to love but just couldn't find the place in her heart for. He moved away only to reappear years later and propose marriage. She didn't have a place for him then either.
Next came the one she thought she loved and who ended up being a good friend instead. She spent almost 7 years with that one and learned what it meant to be loved and hated all at the same time. Somewhere in there came the one that reminded her she was sexy and beautiful - followed immediately by the one that was the definition of wrong place, wrong time and whose memory would forever remind her of what it felt like to be a cheater. Then came the one who broke her heart for the first time in her life - she could have done without that one.
At this point it seemed utterly ridiculous to even entertain the possibility that true, life-altering love was out there. Why did she care about some smelly boy loving her anyway? Aren't they from Mars? The inner feminist bellowed - "I don't need some beer swilling, boob ogling Martian to give me self-worth! Me and my self-worth are just fine on our own, thank you very much!" She settled in and decided that love was not all it was cracked up to be and besides, sex and the single life were a lot more fun anyway.
So off she went - to the personal ads, to the bars, on one notable occasion to the tattoo parlor, to anywhere guys congregated and she dragged a friend or two into the fray with her. Then came "the corner."
How bizarre to pass by a corner in the middle of the night and see him there. He was all that she imagined when she was younger and Lloyd Dobbler was the perfect man (OK so Lloyd Dobbler is still the perfect man, but that is beside the point). He was tall. He had dark hair and gorgeous eyes. He had broad shoulders and a nice ass. He must be homeless or schizophrenic. Setting her cynicism aside she thought, "If the picture in my head of what the perfect guy looks like can come to life and be standing here in front of me with no visible defects then maybe true love can exist, too." So, smart or not, she made her move. Granted - it wasn't the typical move, but at least there was still that part of her willing to put herself out there and attempt to snare her very own boob ogling Martian. That one-night-stand turned into many nights and eventually something else.
Flash forward a few years. The man of her dreams is now her husband and the world continues to turn. Some days things are all about just loving each other. Most days are about just living. Work, school, bills, kid...RESPONSIBILITIES. She never believed those Calgon commercials, but now she lives them - minus the giant bathtub full of bubbles. Hot baths are no longer about candles, bubbles and a glass of wine. Hot baths are now just an opportunity to to shave her legs without having to balance on one leg.
Sometimes another life winks at her from off in the distance and she wonders what it would be like to visit...and then he looks at her. He looks at her and she remembers what that first smile felt like. The way her whole body went weak the first time their lips touched. The night he gave her roses and told her he loved her for the first time. The way they got up one morning and got married. They way they sat up smoking and drinking wine while they made the scariest (and best) decision of their lives.
Everything she needs is in that look. It tells her that she is beautiful. That she is desired. That she is capable and smart. It reminds her that she would be just fine on her own, but is the luckiest woman in the world to have him standing beside her. That look tells her she is funny and friendly and amazing for her quirks.
She may not have had the prince take her away from mean people and housework, but she got strength and courage and fearlessness. She got beauty and passion and wonder. She got the daily reminder that the world hasn't gone crazy because love is out there - even if sometimes it is standing on a street corner in the middle of the night!
~THE END
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