Friendship Gone Sour

This is one of those “stories” I have been holding onto for a while, but recent events have inspired me to “purge” my soul…as it were. It is going to be a lengthy tale, so anyone who stops by may not be inclined to read it. But this is something I “need” to do. It's not a particularly "cheerful" post to start the New Year, but here goes.

There were five of us “girls” who hung out together from junior high through high school; i.e., Sara, Cathy, Debbie R., Debbie A., and me. Actually, Sara and I have been friends since the second grade, but when all the kids from the local elementary schools “graduated” to junior high, that’s when the five of us all found each other and became friends.

Now, through the years since graduation, I have maintained some “regular” contact with all of them…some more than others…some off again/on again, but we’ve always remained friends. Some have lost contact with each other, but they all stayed in touch with me…for some reason….and everyone asks about everyone else, so I am the one who usually brings everyone “up to speed” on everyone else. As Sara is wont to say, “You’re the “glue,” Lou.”

Well, as of two years ago this month, that phrase ceased to signify; the glue lost its adhesive ability when Debbie A. and I had a “falling out.”

I still remember the first time Debbie and I met. It was at the end of one of our eighth grade classes (Mr. Brammer’s history class, I think). The bell had rung, and someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Debbie. She told me she had just moved to South Point from Springfield, and that my brother, Leland, had been her 6^th grade teacher. When he found out her family was moving to South Point, he told her she should look me up. She did, and we became friends… almost immediately.

Debbie was intelligent. She was, in fact, the valedictorian of our senior class. I don’t think she enjoyed high school all that much, though. For all that she was smart and thin and pretty and outgoing, she didn’t date much. One thing is for certain, she didn’t like living in a Podunk little town like South Point. So, after graduation, Debbie high-tailed it back to Springfield. She didn’t go to college, but she did find “love.” There was more than one relationship in her short-lived stay in Springfield, but she ended up marrying Tom. He was in the military, so they moved around a lot.

Subsequently, we would lose touch for lengthy periods of time. I knew she had a couple of kids…boys…Chris and Sean. But the main reason Debbie decided to maintain a low profile was because she had gained weight after her two pregnancies. She was embarrassed, and she didn’t want people who knew her to see how big she had become. Like I would care what she looked like. I mean, if I adopted that attitude, I’d never go around people for fear they wouldn’t like me or would ridicule me because I’m fat. I like to think I’m more “evolved” than to judge a person by the size of their body versus the size of their heart…their soul.

Anyway, shortly after the release of my first book in 1981, I got a call out of the blue from Debbie. She and Tom and the boys were living in Kansas at the time, but they were getting ready for a tour of duty in Germany. As I recall, this was the first time I had actually spoken to her since her wedding. There had been the occasional letter and Christmas card, but that was it. When she found out about my book, however, she tracked me down. She had read it and wanted me to know that she had enjoyed it. I remember we laughed about the fact that she was the “storyteller” of the group, yet here I was having a book published.

Fast forward to 1990. I was on the planning committee for our 20-year class reunion, and we were trying to locate class member’s addresses. Remember, this was the pre-Internet age. I volunteered to try to find Debbie. Her folks had moved back to Springfield by this time, so I called information, and a few phone calls later, Debbie and I were reunited.

By now, she was living in Virginia. She wasn’t interested in coming to the reunion, but we did reconnect. My landlords let me have a pool party that summer, and she drove up from Virginia to attend that and spend the weekend. It was like “old home” week. Sara happened to be in town and there were others from our high school days. It was a great time.

A year or so later, Debbie and I took a vacation together to the Bahamas. I drove down to pick her up, and then we drove to Fort Lauderdale to board the ship. The Bahamas sucked…hands down, the absolute WORST vacation ever, but I’ll save that story for another post. But, the drive in the car, talking, getting to know each other all over again, catching up with each other’s lives…was really great. We stopped in Savannah…one of our mutual favorite cities…and had a better time there than we did in the Bahamas. That, for me, was the best part of the whole trip…the chats we had along the way as we rekindled our friendship.

We’ve enjoyed other trips together through the years, as well. Gettysburg, Savannah (two more times), including the Thanksgiving before our major “rift” in January, and I can remember at least two other times when she came to visit me in South Point. In May of 2006, I attended a business conference at Disney World, and she took off a few days from work to join me there.

A few years after our Bahamas trip, she and Tom divorced. Theirs had been a troubled marriage for several years; especially since he was prone to having affairs. Shortly after the divorce, Debbie moved to Gainesville, Florida…close to where her mom and sister and other family members lived. This time, we stayed in touch.

When I was fired from my job in September of 1997, I packed up the car and headed south to Florida for ten days. I figured I had the time, and if I drove straight through (that was back when I was young-ish and foolish) all it would cost me was the gas. I could stay with Debbie, and, even if I stayed in Ohio, I’d still be spending money for food. (Oh, the things we talk ourselves into when we “rationalize.”)

I guess the point I’m trying to make is…we were friends…good friends. We enjoyed each other’s company; i.e., shopping, going to movies, eating, talking about anything and everything under the sun. She knows my history, I know hers. She was there for me when my folks died. I called her when my brother, Leland, passed away, and we cried…together. She called me when her sister, Robin, died, and we cried…together. I thought she was one of those rare phenomenons…a “forever” friend. I was mistaken.

Debbie and I used to email each other two or three times a day, and we would engage in deliciously long and chatty phone calls once or twice a week. Granted, most of the time I initiated those calls, but she called me, too. As I have eluded to before, we talked about everything…family, friends, funny and not so funny work stories, etc. We liked a lot of the same things; i.e., movies, actors, books, authors, music, but there were some things I liked and she didn’t...and visa versa. That’s called life, individual tastes and preferences and such. I didn’t think much about it when we had a difference of opinion. She would state her opinion, I would state mine and we’d move on. There were no heated arguments or bitter disagreements or anything. I just thought we were having…you know…adult, lively…and oftentimes “witty” conversations. Little did I know.

One of the actors/comedians that Debbie admired was Will Farrell. Me, I can take him or leave him…mostly leave him. I don’t particularly care for his brand/style of sophomoric, brainless, witless humor, and, as for his movies…for me…if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. In my “humble” opinion, he’s pretty much a one dimensional actor, you know. The bottom line: Debbie liked him, I didn’t…and that’s OKAY. At least, it should have been.

He was in this movie called “Old School,” and Debbie loved it…raved about how funny it was, in fact. She went to see it at the theater and told me about how she was the only woman...and she was in her 50’s…in this cinema that was packed with nothing but college-aged boys. She didn’t care. She had a great time, and that is all that matters…you know.

About this time, my godson…Nathaniel…started “talking-up” the same movie. He kept telling me that it was “awesome.” (He likes that word.) I tried to explain that this was most definitely not my type of movie…that I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would not like it, but my protestations fell on deaf ears. In fact, Nathaniel so wanted me to watch it that he, personally, braved the holiday crowds at Wal-Mart in order to purchase it for me himself. (This is remarkable/ notable because the kid hates crowds in general and Wal-Mart in particular.)

He couldn’t wait for me to watch the movie and tell him what I thought about it. Sadly, I did not share his enthusiasm for the forthcoming cinematic experience. When I told Debbie about Nathaniel’s gift of “Old School,” she, too, jumped on the bandwagon, stating she couldn’t wait for me to watch it, so I could tell her what I thought about it. I’m going to repeat that because, more than once, she asked me if I had watched it yet and to be sure to tell her what I thought about it.

So, one cold Sunday in January of 2007, I “fired-up” the old DVD player and settled in to watch this movie…this stupid, "stoopid" movie. Afterwards, this is the “review” – exactly as I wrote it then – that I sent to Debbie.

“...As for "Old School," didn't much care for it. Who am I kidding...didn't care for it at all. The whole movie was pretty pointless to me. I laughed at a few scenes...Will Ferrell doing the gymnastic ribbon dance was pretty funny. Knew what was going to happen in a few others, like the old guy keeling over dead when the four boobs were in his grasp...pretty predictable. Saw wayyyyyyyyyyyy too much of Will Ferrell's butt to my liking, which is to say to see it at all was too much. And you know, after about the age of 18 or so, men should not be allowed to wear jockey shorts. I'm a boxer's girl, I guess. He was not very pretty in his tidy whiteys. I cannot believe Nathaniel actually thought this was a movie I would want to watch... let alone own. This one will probably be tossed into the trash. I like all three of the main dudes in certain roles, but this is just not my type of movie. Sorry, I know you loved it."

I talked about a bunch of other stuff in the email…chit-chatty things, you know. After that email, I noticed a difference in the tone of Debbie’s emails to me. She was distant and made ambiguous, oftentimes "snarky" statements in reply to things I said in my emails to her. I figured I had done something, but wasn’t quite sure what it was, so I went back and reread the aforementioned paragraph and pretty much decided that I must had offended her with my “candid” remarks about this insipid movie. So much for wanting my opinion, huh? One of these days, maybe I’ll learn that when someone asks me for my opinion what they are really saying is…"if you agree with me, then I want to hear what you have to say, but – if not – then fuck off." (Sorry, I have gone to great lengths to avoid using the “f” word willy-nilly on this blog, but sometimes it is the only word to adequately demonstrate my complete and utter frustration. This is one of those times.)

For the next ten days or so, our emails dwindled to maybe one every other day. Debbie’s birthday is the 24^th of January, and I didn’t want the day to pass without wishing her a Happy Birthday, so I started out the email by doing just that. Then I wrote the following:

“Need to get something off my chest, so bear with me, or don’t if that is your pleasure. I have obviously said something to offend you, so I want to apologize for whatever it was. I noticed a decided coolness in the tenor of your emails to me after I expressed my opinion of the movie “Old School.” You liked it, I didn’t – big whoppin’ deal. We like a lot of the same stuff and agree on a lot of things and others, we – well – don’t. But, if I offended you by the bluntness of my “critique,” then I apologize. We've known each other a long time, and I would hope that you would know me well enough to realize that I would never, ever intentionally say or do anything to hurt or offend you."

And this is the reply I received:

“You are correct. If it was the first, second or even third time, it wouldn't be such a big deal. However, it is a pretty common occurrence. I sent an email last week, subject "TOO". I believe I said it was possible to pay too much attention to detail and there was another "too" much thing I didn't want to discuss at the time. Well, I will tell you now that I believe it is possible to be too witty. I know you take a great deal of pride in your wit and you love what you call witty banter and repartee. It can be fun, but sometimes it can be over the top, bordering on glib and insulting. I don't want to come off as oversensitive and whiny, but maybe I am. Maybe you're "too witty". I know you wouldn't deliberately say something insulting or hurtful, but I find myself often insulted, hurt or angry. And, I'm tired of it. That's all. I composed a response last Monday, but I didn't want to send it right away because I wanted to think about it. I've thought about it a lot these past ten days. I am speaking strictly for myself here. I am an old dog, not ready to learn new tricks. I am who I am, even if that means I am oversensitive. You are who you are and I would never want you to walk around on eggshells for my sake. I'm sorry. I should have said something a long time ago. I'm still not ready to send my initial response, and I don't want to discuss it by phone. I've agonized over the situation at times. I'm not only oversensitive. Guess I'm a drama queen as well. As I write this, I realize I have probably said things to you that were hurtful or insulting. We all trip over our tongues at times or speak without thinking. I've tried to think of situations where I might have gone on and on about something or someone I know you admire or like. I know I've trashed Michael Douglas enough that you know I can't stand him, and probably Bill and Hillary Clinton, but for the most part I would never deliberately shred something or someone I know you like, but you seem to take great delight in delivering wordy zingers about movies, TV shows, music, real people, literary and cinematic characters, etc (that I like or I've raved about). I don't defend what or who I like, but my own taste and intelligence. I apologize for the passive-aggressive behavior. I hate the phrase and I hate the behavior. I'll be in touch.”

Whew! Now ain't that a kick in the head? Talk about having your apology flung back in your face. To say that I was "stunned" by this vitriolic assessment of my character would be the understatement of the century. Obviously, she had been saving that up for quite some time. All the little frogs and toads came spilling out with a vengeance once she got started, huh? Who knew? I certainly didn't. The Queen of "Clueless" -- that's me folks. Here I thought we were sharing our thoughts and opinions and engaging in sparkling conversation, and now I find out I'm just a big ol' bitch as far as she was concerned. Can't really blame her, I suppose, I wouldn't want to be friends with the woman she described. The thing is...I'm not that woman. I'm not perfect...far from it. But neither am I the thoughtless, inconsiderate, selfish shrew she described.

For the record, I’m not a Michael Douglas fan…by any stretch of the imagination…although there are a couple of his movies that I do enjoy. And, I never, ever discussed politics or Bill and Hillary Clinton with her. So, if one follows her logic, then should I not have taken offense when she belittled the movies, TV shows, actors, etc., that I liked, and she didn’t? I don’t know. The thing that hurt the most was the “too witty” and “glib and insulting” gibes. I guess because the thing that I have relied on the most to get me through this crap-assed life I’ve been handed is my sense of humor. I don’t apologize for that, nor do I “deliberately” hurt my friends with it. She’s known me for forty years…she should know that.

Anyway, she sent a follow-up email after that, telling me that she had composed another email the day she received my initial missive regarding that STOOPID movie. An email, evidently, in which she told me what she really thought about me. I say, evidently, because I never read that email. I deleted it the instant it showed up in my mailbox and then went immediately to the “trash” folder and deleted it from there, lest my resolve withered and I be tempted to find out just what a truly horrendous person I am. I mean, she had skewered me pretty good already. I’m not a complete idiot, nor am I a masochist by nature. So, I took a pass on the follow-up character assassination.

As you may well have guessed by now, that pretty much put the kibosh on our friendship. Since that time, I contacted her only once via email to let her know about the death of someone very close to the other Debbie in out little circle. Even then, I kept it very “sterile,” giving her the link to the obituary and address information only. That was it...no glib or insulting or witty banter did I offer up. I was not trying to reopen the lines of communication…merely helping out another friend. As far as I was…and am…concerned, the door to our former friendship is forever closed.

Then, a couple of days before Thanksgiving this year, Debbie sent me an email in which she said she wanted to apologize for the way she mishandled things “way back when.” I say it was an “apology” because that is what she called it, but in the course of her so-called apology, she more or less blamed me for her “meltdown” because she said had I not asked if I had done something to offend her, she would have eventually “let it go.” But because I had asked, I guess she felt obliged to open up a can of “Whip Ass” on me. She went on to say that, while she was “confessing,” there was another “issue” that bothered her at the time. The phone. Apparently, the phone calls – that I enjoyed so much (and as far as I could tell, she did too) – were “intrusive” to her. That’s one hell of an apology, folks.

So, now, I found myself in the midst of a wee dilemma. Should I respond? Did I really want to renew this friendship…again. After all, I haven’t changed. For better or for worse, I’m still me, and she didn't seem to care for me all that much. Besides, I wasn’t sure how to go about getting in touch with her. A phone call was now out of the question because I wouldn’t want to…you know…intrude. My emails had been deemed “too witty,” so I wouldn't want to inflict my charming self on her. What does that leave? Smoke signal? Carrier pigeon? Message in a bottle? Oops…there I go being glib and insulting.

I wrestled with my decision for a couple of days, and then I reread her email and realized she had not indicated that she wanted to hear from me…merely that she wanted to apologize. Problem solved, right? So, I decided to “go with the flow.” In other words, I ignored it. Then she sent me an email Christmas card. Once again, I chose not to reply.

I suppose I’m carrying a bit of a grudge here, but you have to understand…never, ever did I intend to hurt her feelings. I was just speaking my mind…as she was wont to do. All she had to do was speak up and say that my “frankness” bothered her, and I would have avoided those topics henceforth, but she didn’t. She chose, instead to “deliberately” and with malice of forethought attack and denigrate me for being...basically…who I am. That’s a hard pill to swallow. Besides, I could never feel the same with her. I could never let my guard down and be myself, which maybe isn’t such a bad thing, since she obviously wasn't all that enthralled with the real “me” anyway. In short, I could never trust her with my friendship again.

Then, the day after Christmas, I received another email from her, wishing me only good things for the New Year and asking if I would send her the address to my blog. (A mutual friend who knows about my blog, but doesn’t know the address, had told her about it.) When I did not send it, I got another email, apologizing AGAIN, saying that she realized a “qualified” apology wasn’t an apology at all and this was one of the things from her past that she wished she could “undo.” I understand that...I've got some bells I'd like to "unring" too.

This time, I did reply…mainly because she sounded so “frustrated” with my silence. I didn’t want to come off as a completely heartless bitch, so I told her that I wasn’t mad or angry. That the reason I had not responded to her emails was because I wasn’t sure where or how to go from here, or even if there was anywhere to go. I told her she didn’t need to apologize again…that she didn’t need to apologize at all. She felt how she felt…now I feel how I feel…and I needed a little time to sort things through. The next day, I got this in reply:

“I understand. Like you, I figure there probably is nowhere to go from here. Too much water under the bridge. I wish I had found ways to deal with things in a more open manner without letting everything just sort of back up and stack up until it was too much to deal with. My feelings were very real, but I handled the situation badly. That's why I’ve been testing the waters of late and why I wanted to apologize. It was necessary for me to live with myself. It was difficult to do and the first attempt pathetic. It had to be sincere for me to also forgive myself. To look ahead, I have to be able to stop looking back. I'm working on not being so self absorbed. Absolutely no response necessary.”

And there you have it. The apology wasn’t for me…it was for her…and a part of me understands that, but a part of me is also pissed off. Obviously, she wasn't interested in my feelings on the matter. It’s one of those…I can dish it out, but can’t take it…scenarios. And for the record, I did not say there was no place to go from here, but that I was trying to decide IF there was a place to go. Meaning, was it possible to put old hurts aside and renew our friendship? Well, since “absolutely no response is necessary” from me, I guess we'll never know the answer to that, shall we?

So, there you have it. (If anyone actually troubled themselves to read this entire novella, I owe you dinner sometime.) A rather long winded tale over “much ado” about nothing. Well, to be fair, it’s not nothing. We had a lot of good times, and I have a lot of fond memories that I’ll always treasure. But when I stop and let myself think that this was all because I didn’t like Will “fucking” Ferrell, I want to scream. I’ll go to my grave still flummoxed over that one.

And I have to say it didn't help matters much yesterday when the USA Network ran an “Elf” (another Will Ferrell cinematic masterpiece) marathon instead of the Law & Order Criminal Intent marathon that had originally been promised. Will Ferrell instead of Vincent D'Onofrio? Now, that's not only "insulting," it's downright "criminal."