...this post is. Since December, I guess? And I've been debating this a long time, mulling it over, keeping it in, trying to be understanding, giving my self space to figure it out, trying to overcome it. But it's been festering. A bloody gaping wound gone gangrenous.
I'm good for a letter or an email to someone I care about, if something they've done has upset me. If I'm REALLY upset and I REALLY care about you and I'm trying REALLY hard to work it out, you might get several emails. The scrub got several. But I debated a letter to you, because I knew it would bring a response, and I'm not really sure I want a response. I don't want to hear you rationalize yet again, or lie any more than I already suspected you were. Beside, writing directly to you would mean that I was going to continue to try to be fair, because one thing about my letters... I try to see both sides. I try not to attack without the offer of a solution. But I'm not sure there is a solution. As a matter of fact, after debating this in myself for six months I think the only solution is for me to leave you alone. This whole thing bothers me that much.
See, you really, profoundly hurt me. He isn't the issue. He's a scrub... like the proverbial snake that bites the hand that saved it from the wagon wheel, I knew he was a snake when I picked him up. He's a scrub, riding in his best friend's ride, trying to holler at whatever moves. And after spending some time with him, and hearing his stories, in my heart I knew the shit was going to blow up on me. "How they find you is how they leave you..." if they have a particular pattern, and they've over 25, there's a pretty good chance they're going to continue that pattern. But I fell in love anyway. I knew it would blow up on me, but I took the chance.
And in part, I took the chance because of you. "Go for it," you said, "you never know." And no, I didn't fall just because of you... I fell because I was very lonely, confused, and had just ended the six-year-war. And I'm guessing you're in pretty much the same place I was though your war is only beginning. I wanted my Happy Ever After, after all that hell. But it's not like I fell with no help... I'm a sucker for long talks on the deck at night, or sunbathing naked on a hot summer day, foot rubs, riding in a car with the windows down and the music blasting, cuddling on the beach... and he gave me those things. He made me remember what it was like to love someone you were friends with. My heart needs to think that those things happened because there was something there, and my head didn't need to be reminded he was simply a great manipulator. And lately, every time I see you I am reminded what an asshole I was.
I started to fall before the big trip.... but on that big trip I lost complete control of my heart and down I went, and you were the one I called to tell. I remember you asking me "Does he feel the same way?" and I said, "I don't know... I don't care. Because I know how I feel." And then we got back and the fairy tale turned into the darkest hell... again you were the one I called. Because you were the only one who really knew how far I'd fallen. And you held me up. And in my mind, I owed my heart to you.
Jesus. I still can't look at pictures from that trip... I took them all down off of Flickr, I deleted them off my harddrive. They're on a CD, though... waiting for the time I can go through them again but it's been two years and I still can't. I know that two years later, I've got the better deal. I AM in love with my best friend. I DO have a man I trust implicitly. He believes in loyalty. He loves me. I love him and trust him; even around you.
But still, when I remember how I crawled through Black August I can still cry. I know I must have a been a pain in the ass. I know you, along with everyone else, felt I was dumb for even believing, given that he was a scrub and a snake, and that made it worse. Eventually though, I made peace with myself. I even made peace with him. I had only asked two very specific things of him: Don't treat me like you treat your bitches, and when he broke that one I knew he'd break the other which was don't fuck my friends. I was prepared. I just didn't think it would be you. And it wouldn't have mattered so much if it was anyone but you. Because you saw me bleed. You read my pain on this blog. You knew how torn apart I was.
Because I considered you a sister. Although now that I think about it, it's appropriate, I guess, given his previous patterns. He knew I thought of you as family. Men mostly come and then go, but good girlfriends are a gift to be treasured, and I never thought you of all people, would be weak enough to sell me out.
Loyalty is a big thing to me. People suck. The world sucks. 95% of the people you meet don't REALLY care how you are when they ask. The other 3% are only marginally interested and if you're lucky, you'll find 1% of the world who really gives a shit about you. And those are the people you hold close, and don't fuck over. If they have idiosyncrasies, you deal with it.
My friend BeautifulHair had a thing for being called on her birthday. Two years ago Black August turned into GreySeptember and two days after her birthday I realized I'd forgotten it. I called her and left her a message, rather rambling, because I didn't want to burden her with my hell.
I didn't hear from her for months, and when I finally sat down and wrote her an email, mad at her because it was obvious I'd done something to piss her off and didn't know what it was, she wrote me back and told me. I had forgotten her birthday.
On the surface, it might seem stupid... but I'd known that was her "thing" and I had a made a point to honor that "thing". So I couldn't get mad at her for that... but I did get mad at her that after 15 years of friendship, she would assume I'd forgotten her birthday because it was unimportant to me, rather than thinking maybe I was trying not to commit myself to a mental hospital and hadn't gotten around to calling her. We haven't spoken since.
Friendships--even 15 year friendships--are just that fragile. A friendship only a third that old needs to be nurtured and cared for.
A friendship, like any relationship, must be made up of equal parts love, trust and respect, and those parts must always be in proportion to each other. To have one of those parts goes missing makes it hard for a friendship to survive.
So I love you... this wouldn't have hurt so bad if I didn't. I've wrestled over this bullshit for six months. Although "this morning I woke up and found I didn't care for you no more..." And today I don't think I love you anymore. I lost an awful lot of respect for you as a woman, and as a friend. And I damn sure don't trust you anymore... and I don't think I ever will. Because not only did you betray my trust and my heart, you lied. Looked me in the eye and swore it was a flash in the pan, something you needed, an abnormality. You were sorry. It was over and wouldn't happen again. But I don't believe you.
I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I'm a friend. I struggled and questioned forgiveness because I'm a friend. My spideysense went off and I saw things I didn't want to see, but I went on your word.
My gut never lies and unlike you I trust myself. I've been through hell and back and battled demons and fought wars, and I trust me. I trust what I feel.
And the other day, Monday, was the straw that broke the camels back. The tinglies started upstairs, and as I was coming down the staircase my senses were raging. Your name was on my lips and I was set to go home and delete you off FB for no good reason other than my alarms were going off, struggling with myself over the rationality of my feelings. I got to the bottom of the staircase with your name raging in my head, opened the staircase door and bumped right into you. And the look on your face told me everything I already know:
You're a liar. You're weak. You want every one to like you. You crush on people, absorb everything they are, do everything they do until you hit upon something of theirs that you can't do. Because you're not them. And instead of embracing the things in someone else that you can't do, can't imitate, and instead of developing your own many unique talents, you turn and walk away. And justify it, rationalize it by saying you can only have one friend at a time. You say your open and honest, and treat people with respect. But you're not open... you're not honest. If you were open you could share in things that you're not good at because you'd be open enough to enjoy that someone else can. If you were honest you would have told things long before I had to find them out on my own. If you treated your friends with love and respect you wouldn't have done the shit in the first place, and you would have respected my pain by not lying.
Or maybe there was something about me and my friendship that you were willing to do without. And that hurts too, because if there was something about me that pissed you off that much and you told me... I would have done something about it because I loved you.
I know your life is miserable to you now, and I'm sorry. I know you are faced with decisions that cause you great pain, and I would have gladly held your hand. But you avoid your pain because you don't like it, and so numb yourself by doing things you know you have no business doing, risking everything you DO have... all the things about you that are good and true and valuable you systematically destroy because you don't have the balls to stomach a little bit of pain.
This makes you a dangerous friend. Someone who, while you avoid your pain, causes pain in others. And then you rationalize it as something you need to do for yourself because you do so much for others. But really... what have you done lately?
But it's come back to bite you in the ass, hasn't it? What goes around comes around. I'd almost feel bad for you... except you brought the shit on your self. And what's worse is, you'll have to go it alone. When I was fucked over and hurting, I had you. And now that you're fucked over and hurting, guess what... you don't have me.
You do have friends who'll help you. And you know what? I'm not the bitch who will turn folk against you. This is my rant and my blog and my own personal issue with you. I don't hate you. I won't shout you out to the public at large. After all, I sat on this shit and hurt by myself for six months. And I do hope you come to your fucking senses and pull your head out of your ass and do what you know it is you NEED to do. I hope your life gets better--I genuinely do. But I won't be there. I will no longer cheer you on.