I don’t know where to start.
Usually, I try very hard not to drag other people into my personal writings. I’ve had experiences I want to write about, but don’t feel comfortable blogging about. This isn’t about a professional confrontation. It’s 100% personal, IRL drama. But I need to get it out before I let it go, and I need to do it all at once. So here goes…
I lost a friend because she dropped me over…who knows? I’m fairly certain I didn’t do anything unforgivable. I’m also fairly certain we could have worked things out with a simple conversation. But two people terrified of confrontation and less than adept at sharing their feelings don’t always find resolution that way. Regardless, it hurt way more than I thought it would to add another list to the “people who just stopped talking to me one day” list.
Let me rewind. Also, start the “Corey’s Spent Money” count in parenthesis, please.
Captive Bar Hopping
I took my friend out to dinner ($30) and then to the bar where I do stand-up ($30 tab).
My friend was introduced to another close friend of mine, which was a big deal, because almost nobody gets to meet the girl I will refer to as R. R is often described as my stand-in big sister. R has a BA (BS?) in psychology and is a constant source of council, guidance, and comfort in my life. R also teaches small children language arts. R is perfect. R is life.
R actually had to do what I will say was the world’s most impressive storm-out when the evening was pushed back by 45 minutes and she had to go on around 9:45pm, which is wayyy to late to be performing when it takes another 45 minutes to drive home and you have to wake up around 5am so you can teach the future leaders of America how to spell and read and interpret and whatnot.
I performed. My friend ordered two cocktails on my tab. I drank beer. It was an alright evening.
My soon-to-be-ex-friend and I had talked earlier about just going to dinner and the bar, then heading home, because as much as I love her, I am so totally not the stay-up-until-3am kind of person.
This conversation proved irrelevant when her crush called and said she and my friend’s sister would be at a place downtown called the “Angry Monkey.”
Actually that might not be the actual bar’s name but it had the word “monkey” in it and there was a not so inviting adjective. Anyway, I was somehow convinced to drive us over there to meet the crush & associated posse. Incidentally, they were not even at the Angry Monkey when we arrived and we ordered…some sort of mixed cocktail ($10) to pass the time.
Next up was walking across the street to a restaurant & bar to meet them, where we sat outside and I was introduced to the crush, et al. I was exhausted at this point, but ended up with a beer and some chicken, and of course a beer for my friend ($20). It was a fairly enjoyable meal, and afterwards the group wanted to go “walk around.” At about 11pm, I was less than enthusiastic. I offered to simply allow my friend to go home with her crush, friends, adoptive sister, et al., but she asked me to please come along because she wanted to spend time with me and she loved me and it would be fun. I obliged.
There was another bar (no charge bc the crush bought my friend a beer) and another bar ($7 for a drink) and my friend attempted to elevate my spirits by reminding me that she loved me (number of times “I love you” was used – idk like 20 at least) and to just relax (I have anxiety and OCD) and enjoy life because “you spend a 3rd of it sleeping.” She told me to enjoy being out with friends. I reminded her that these people were literally 0% my friends, as meeting strangers in the middle of the night is not really how I bond.
There was a point where I cried a little, because I simply wanted to go home, but I didn’t want to leave my friend behind. I don’t cry often anymore, and I think it was because of feeling used and trapped. Two feelings that don’t mix well. I did avoid making a scene, and managed to hold back the feelings.
There was another point where my friend bummed a cigarette off a table of about 7 very sketchy looking people at 1am, and I attempted to pull her away. The table immediately irrupted into dissent, telling me to “calm down man,” and “chill out.” I told the table of people to stop talking to me, and was met with loud, harsh cat calling. I admit I was over-protective, but I’d rather be overprotective than disinterested in personal safety.
I honestly can’t remember talking to anyone but my friend for long. The conversations mostly centered around lunch plans they had for tomorrow. I vaguely remember assuring her sister that I am aware water is the best way to avoid a hangover, and keeping my mouth shut while my friend played grab-ass with her crush, who proceeded to totally blow her off, because most people don’t enjoy having their asses grabbed in public.
We finally made it back to the car around 3am (add $5 for parking), when my friend thanked me profusely for taking her out, asked me if she was pretty enough for her crush, and told me she loved me. On the way back to the car she even slung her arm around my shoulder and laughed as I made a comment about her being too short for putting her arm around my shoulders and not wanting to accidentally touch her but with my hand. She then moved my hand to her butt. I was mortified.
Remind me to talk to my therapist about butts and the public space.
I dropped my friend off at the same house the people we were just with lived at (confirming I probably could have just gone home hours earlier) and returned home to get much needed sleep. “I love you” texts were exchanged and all’s well that ended well.
The total comes to around $95 dollars for the night.
Did I Miss Something?
Fast forward to the next day, around 10pm (because I had to sleep off being up till 4am), and my friend is being short with me. I ask her what’s up, and we proceed to have the following conversation…
Me: Are you mad at me?
Her: Yeah. I’m kind of irritated about how you treated everyone last night. It was embarrassing.
Me: I’m kind of irritated about how you didn’t let me go home. But it’s late, we should talk about this later.
Her: This is not something I’m going to talk to you later about. Nobody had a gun to your head saying you had to stay out but it sure as hell seemed like someone had a gun to your head telling you to act embarrassingly insulting. Nobody acts like that around people they’ve just met, especially people that are important to their “friend.” It’s obvious that you just don’t give a shit about anything. So have fun being a miserable person but you’re not going to drag me down with you.
Me: You have no right to call me a miserable person after I stayed out with you because you asked me to, and paid for you all night, and got you home safely. (I don’t actually remember what else I said but it was probably not very happy.) I’m not going back and forth with you all night.
The next day, my no-longer-friend had blocked me from all social media. She never returned my texts, and refused to answer my phone calls. I had been removed, after months of building what I had assumed was a solid friendship. Also after spending a bunch of money. Also she had my furminator still.
But Wait, There’s More…
A few weeks after the fight, I decided to retrieve my furminator, which is a $50 deshedding tool I lent her and wanted back. People who know me well know I tend to lose expensive things to ex-friends and ex-girlfriends, because I let people borrow my expensive things, because I am not a normal person. With no channels of communication, I worked up a nice fervor and drove to her house.
The house was abandoned, so I didn’t actually get to live out any of my confrontation scenarios. I did, however, leave her copy of Taxi on her doorstep, which I had purchased a month ago for her birthday and didn’t want, because Taxi is a really, really terrible movie.
A few days later, a mutual friend arrives to stay at my house. My ex-friend was kind enough to tell my mutual friend to tell me to “stay the fuck away from her house.” She also found it “interesting” that our mutual friend’s boyfriend likes me (as friends). I guess because I’m a miserable person, and nobody should like a miserable person.
Long story again short, the mutual friend manages to acquire my furminator for me, marking the first time ever I have gotten back my expensive items from a confrontation.
It’s been a few weeks, and so I’m finally starting to feel better. I have my items back, my alcohol budget has been cut by at least 75%, and I no longer have to listen to or be harshly judged about strange music like Janis Joplin and other white artists I did not grow up with because I’m black.
Seriously, somebody play some Jackson 5 now please.