LJ Idol 10: *THAT* Friend
I noticed on Facebook you invited my husband to your holiday cookie exchange but didn't invite me.
That's OK. Considering I haven't been able to get out of work the last couple of years to attend, I don't blame you.
Of course you'd invite my husband. You two get along better than you and I do. Plus he and your husband get along famously. They spin words into stories and stories into epic living room performances which amuse you and your daughter to no end.
You know I'm going to bake the cookies my husband will bring with him. That's really what you're after, isn't it?
I overhear several coworkers in the break room chatting about a girls' night out at the local Chinese place. Phrases float around me: “Maybe next Thursday” or “We can't do it that night because Annie and Betsy have the early shift the next day.” I stare at my phone as I hear my manager's name, my partner in cake crime's name, even my bossy coworker's name. I play with my sandwich as dates and times swirl, dip. I run to the ladies' when the laughter starts.
When I return I catch your eye only because you're sitting in my line of sight. “I'd like to go,” I hear myself say. “You guys never ask me. I could ask for the next day off, you know.”
“Even if you do you're going to fall asleep before dinner's served, so what's the use?”
“You don't know that.”
“You will. You even said it yourself not too long ago. That's why we never ask you.”
o0o0o0
“You don't keep in touch with anybody, do you?” my husband asks me in bed one night. “You know how I email with Josh every few weeks or I meet up with Brian? Like that. I've never seen you do that with anybody.”
I shift toward his silhouette. “Why would I keep in touch with people who are no longer in my life?”
“Because you have a shared history.”
“Maybe I don't want to be reminded of that history.”
“Oh come on, give a little. They probably think you're no longer interested in them.”
“They probably don't remember me.”
“You'd be surprised.”
o0o0o0
Here's why you never hear from me:
1. My work schedule isn't conducive to socializing unless you're free on a weekday afternoon. If you have a young child, I'll be frank: As fond as I may be of him/her, I'm going to silently consider him/her a nuisance simply because I'm going to be too rattled by him/her to focus on you. I can't spread my energy like that anymore, I'm sorry.
2. You've never given me a chance. We don't know each other outside of our shared sphere. We get along in that sphere. You dismiss me whenever I ask if you want to get together outside our sphere. I get the message loud and clear.
3. I don't want to be reminded of our shared history because I'm still embarrassed. I hated who I was at that time and I apologize leaving you with the impression of me which you no doubt still carry.
4. We're no longer in each other's everyday world. You never tried keeping in touch so why should I bear that burden?
5. I dislike having these conditions too. I don't blame you for not wanting to cultivate a friendship with me.
o0o0o0
Another night. I've been quietly crying. My husband knows this because he detects the subtle crack in my voice when he asks what's the matter.
“I wish I wasn't so...needy, I guess. I think if I were a social butterfly I'd have an easier time.”
“It's not needy wanting friends,” he replies, smoothing my hair. “It's necessary. It's difficult being your friend because of all your imposed conditions. Heck, it's difficult being your husband sometimes.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I wish I could make it easier for you.”
“I give up. I guess I'm destined to be the crazy dog lady.”
“You're not. If you were around when most people are around I bet you'd be feeling different.”
I sigh and turn away from him, curling into myself, into the pillow.
That's OK. Considering I haven't been able to get out of work the last couple of years to attend, I don't blame you.
Of course you'd invite my husband. You two get along better than you and I do. Plus he and your husband get along famously. They spin words into stories and stories into epic living room performances which amuse you and your daughter to no end.
You know I'm going to bake the cookies my husband will bring with him. That's really what you're after, isn't it?
I overhear several coworkers in the break room chatting about a girls' night out at the local Chinese place. Phrases float around me: “Maybe next Thursday” or “We can't do it that night because Annie and Betsy have the early shift the next day.” I stare at my phone as I hear my manager's name, my partner in cake crime's name, even my bossy coworker's name. I play with my sandwich as dates and times swirl, dip. I run to the ladies' when the laughter starts.
When I return I catch your eye only because you're sitting in my line of sight. “I'd like to go,” I hear myself say. “You guys never ask me. I could ask for the next day off, you know.”
“Even if you do you're going to fall asleep before dinner's served, so what's the use?”
“You don't know that.”
“You will. You even said it yourself not too long ago. That's why we never ask you.”
o0o0o0
“You don't keep in touch with anybody, do you?” my husband asks me in bed one night. “You know how I email with Josh every few weeks or I meet up with Brian? Like that. I've never seen you do that with anybody.”
I shift toward his silhouette. “Why would I keep in touch with people who are no longer in my life?”
“Because you have a shared history.”
“Maybe I don't want to be reminded of that history.”
“Oh come on, give a little. They probably think you're no longer interested in them.”
“They probably don't remember me.”
“You'd be surprised.”
o0o0o0
Here's why you never hear from me:
1. My work schedule isn't conducive to socializing unless you're free on a weekday afternoon. If you have a young child, I'll be frank: As fond as I may be of him/her, I'm going to silently consider him/her a nuisance simply because I'm going to be too rattled by him/her to focus on you. I can't spread my energy like that anymore, I'm sorry.
2. You've never given me a chance. We don't know each other outside of our shared sphere. We get along in that sphere. You dismiss me whenever I ask if you want to get together outside our sphere. I get the message loud and clear.
3. I don't want to be reminded of our shared history because I'm still embarrassed. I hated who I was at that time and I apologize leaving you with the impression of me which you no doubt still carry.
4. We're no longer in each other's everyday world. You never tried keeping in touch so why should I bear that burden?
5. I dislike having these conditions too. I don't blame you for not wanting to cultivate a friendship with me.
o0o0o0
Another night. I've been quietly crying. My husband knows this because he detects the subtle crack in my voice when he asks what's the matter.
“I wish I wasn't so...needy, I guess. I think if I were a social butterfly I'd have an easier time.”
“It's not needy wanting friends,” he replies, smoothing my hair. “It's necessary. It's difficult being your friend because of all your imposed conditions. Heck, it's difficult being your husband sometimes.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I wish I could make it easier for you.”
“I give up. I guess I'm destined to be the crazy dog lady.”
“You're not. If you were around when most people are around I bet you'd be feeling different.”
I sigh and turn away from him, curling into myself, into the pillow.