Long hot weekends are usually a challenge for me, as all the families and couples heading off for beaches, parks and sunnier climes tend to highlight my loneliness and I don’t tend to be the most sought out person when it comes to those particular holidays.
This one is particularly painful as someone who is rapidly moving towards being an ex best friend is still playing mind games with me and jerking me around.
I contacted B recently because I heard she’d had a bereavement, and we arranged to touch base/potentially meet on Thursday, but there was complete radio silence that day, making me worry that something else had happened, but no.
Madam, who is ever so popular, was just too busy with her social whirl to keep the date.
The reason for this? Because I didn’t jump when she called after a four month absence (where she didn’t even reply to texts) given that she only summoning me then after she’d seen, spoken to and updated everyone else. And she only called then because I’d called her.
But I guess when your old faithful bitch gradually turns into a slightly narked kitty and doesn’t come running when you eventually get round to taking her for a walk, you’re going to notice the difference.
It wasn’t done maliciously either; On being summoned to her abode, I, vaguely prickled by her arrogance and presumption, merely suggested that we go out somewhere fun for the day instead. But this clearly was deemed sufficiently outrageous for her to refuse to leave her patch or to agree to go anywhere with me (even though we are both out of work right now), so we are now locked in some kind of Cold War that I cannot and will not challenge (like I might have done a year ago), and she certainly will neither admit to, nor address under any circumstances.
The biggest irony is that earlier in the year, I created a mood board for myself.
It features everything and everyone at that time that I wanted in my life including family, friends, things I want to do, possible career paths, places I’d like to go to, properties I’d like to live in etc. and B features quite heavily in it.
But the scariest part is that (as some of you already know) it’s not just her.
One friend is officially out of my life after negotiations fell through, one ceased to keep contact once she’d realised I didn’t want to be her unpaid shrink/surrogate mum anymore, one went away and came back because I had offered an olive branch, and there is one old colleague I don’t see much of anymore.
And now, someone who is/was probably my closest friend in the world, who knows all my flaws and vulnerabilities, is now wielding what she sees as her power with all the subtlety of a supercharged cattle prod.
And it hurts.
But when you look at the situation logically, I am the common denominator, as I’m sure they would all assure one another were they to meet up to discuss their relationship (or lack of therein) with me.
Does that mean I’m at fault?
Or is it all solely down to the fact that I’m changing?
I guess there are practical reasons too, such as living a different lifestyle, going down alternative ways of living and not being in the workplace, hence not being in town much anymore, but some friends have hung in there regardless, so it can’t just be me.
At this rate, my poor mood board will be empty by December 2013 😦
And the hardest thing of all to take in?
That someone who knows my condition, my loneliness and trust issues would take out her spikiest Jimmy C’s and slam the heel right into them.
Not because I have avoided her.
Not because I have been horrible to her.
Not because I have refused to see her.
But because I wouldn’t play her subordinate anymore and follow her around like a little lap dog when she wants me around, then fuck off out of the way for 4 months without a single note of protest when she has better things to do, more entertaining/influential people to meet.
The bottom line is that she expects me to accept where I come in her list of priorities whilst keeping her top of mine.
And it hurts.
It makes me feel like a piece of shit.
Would a real friend want me to feel this way?
Did or do I have any real friends? That’s my biggest worry. When will the next one bail out because I’m not the ‘old Sista’ anymore?
Aunty C (my counsellor) is adamant that I do not play her game, and insists that while I shouldn’t cut off my nose to spite my face, I should keep busy and that when she gets over it, she’ll be in touch.
But somehow I doubt it.
Aunty C purses her lips. ‘Sometimes you grow out of people, you know?’, she said with rather too much emphasis, ‘Tell me, what is it that you see in, sorry, get from her?’
C knows much about B, and her pretensions, excesses and self serving ways (something she freely admits), but I do care about her, and besides, she has a good heart and really makes me laugh.
As there’s nothing I can really do about this situation except maintain a dignified silence, I took myself off for a manicure to cheer myself up this afternoon.
But as I sat in the little salon, the Chinese girls chatting amongst themselves in their own language and occasionally glanced at me and giggled, and I felt more alone and pathetic than ever.
‘Even these young ‘uns can see how pitiful I am, ‘ I thought to myself morosely, ‘I bet they don’t do that to the other customers.’
Just then, the door swung open and a rather Sloany, impeccably groomed young blonde runs in.
‘Excuse me,’ she brays rather excitedly, ‘I need to get my nails done, because I’m going on holiday and I just found out that MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO ASK ME TO MARRY HIM, so I want my hands to look perfect!’
‘Oh fuck off, you smug cow’ I think bitterly but managed to painfully turn my head in her direction, smile at her excitement and nod my congratulations.
But the shop girls?
Not a flicker.
No smiles, no gushing, no congratulations.
Three sets of eyes just stared back at her without expression.
‘So, you want false nails or gels?’ asks the oldest one.
Sloany’s face was a picture, and I was torn between pity and hysterical giggles.
Then it dawned on me.
Some people are just bitches.
And sometimes when you love someone, it takes a while to figure that out.
When my manicurist is finished, I pay her then rummage in my bag for her tip.
‘£3 more.’ she says firmly.
Turns out she’s charging me for superglueing a crack in one of my thumbnails.
Okey dokey, love. That would have been your tip anyway.
And her face when she realises that her tip is now going into the till is also a picture.
‘Fuck you very much’, I think, smiling sweetly, ‘bye now!’
She’s not the only person who can play that game.
This bitch, you’ll be pleased to hear, is back. 🙂