"A closed mind is a good thing to lose." ~Anonymous
"A friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." ~Anonymous
I have a friend with a little problem.
No, not a "friend", but a friend.
Due to certain circumstances, she chose not to post this in her own space in order to spare the feelings of a real-world friend. When she came to me to ask for space in which to post anonymously, I was only too happy to oblige.
Please welcome her and offer your wise comments and feedback, as only you know how to do. Give her a shoulder, yes?
I’m not really sure where that came from.
I mean, I get where it came from. You spoke your mind, what was in your heart. Unfortunately, your delivery was perhaps at its worst ever, since you said all of those mean and hurtful things to the wrong person.
Now, I wasn’t there. You were outside on the porch, the two of you, my best friend since we were three years old, three, and my husband; I sat inside on the couch, discussing my triathlon with your boyfriend. Your conversation seemed benign; I occasionally caught a glimpse of you through the open window although I could not hear your words. All seemed well.
Apparently, what I thought was an innocent conversation was in fact an attack on him, one you unleashed without warning. I have no doubt that the alcohol made it easier to get whatever you said off your chest. I also know that it was the wrong way to do that. The whole thing was wrong.
Why would you tell my husband, the man I love, the man I have decided to spend the rest of my life with, that you hate him, that you have never liked him, that he is this, that and the other in your eyes, that he is wrong for me, that you think the things he does are inexcusable and unforgivable. Can I just ask you, what do you really know?
Yeah, sometimes, when I’m upset, I tell you things that he’s done that piss me off. It’s never anything more than acting like a total jerk, something that we all do. He does not hit me; he would never strike me in any way. Why do I feel that I need to say that?
What I think you have done is take the things I tell you and separate them in your mind; they are isolated incidents, things that have since been resolved between him and me. Yet for you, they remain static; you’ve combined them into a collective feeling, thinking that this person is a bad person. He’s not. How many people give up their life to move across the country with someone they love, headed into the lion’s den of family problems and drama and horror and uncertainty? And then, to top it off, they marry the one they love, knowing full well that annoying and crazy in-laws will be theirs forever. At the beginning, everyone thought it was a wonderful and noble act. Apparently that feeling has faded.
Last year, at our wedding, you gave a speech where you said that you loved us, both of us, that you loved my husband because of how happy he makes me, because you had seen new sides of him. What happened to those words? Was that speech a lie?
You once said to me, “No one understands why you’re with him.” I don’t feel that I need to list those reasons now, not ever. Suffice to say that I love him, I love him, I love him, and he loves me, he loves me, he loves me; that is what should matter to you.
What I don’t think you should focus on is the fact that you two have nothing in common. You are the two most important people in my life; he, even now, after you berated him for 45 minutes, would still suck it up and hang out with you, if that’s what I wanted. He has no desire to ever see you or speak to you again, but he would, for me. That’s love.
You, my dear, have not shown love. You have shown anger, hatred, and a narrow-minded attitude; this has made me feel anger toward you I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
You always get what you want. You are bossy, pushy and loud; people give into you all the time. I have always yielded to you in our friendship in the past. But on this matter, I can’t and I won’t. I don’t want to choose between you, I won’t choose, but he is my husband and in this instance, I must side with him because I believe that you were wrong.
What you should have done was come to me. You should have told me all the things you said to him. We are friends. You should be able to feel like you can tell me anything, anything at all, even if it is that you hate my husband. Opening up to me is the only option here. Why can’t you do that? Why have you harbored all of these feelings inside for so long? I respect you and your opinions, although I may not agree with you all the time.
I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that I rarely criticize you, your actions or your decisions. Instead, I try to support you in any way I can by being there for you. Perhaps I should have spoken up when you pissed away your inheritance in Asia instead of paying off your student loans. I never really liked your ex-boyfriend, the one you dated for six years, but I never said a word. I always got along with him for your sake. We drank together, we partied together, and I slept on your couch and threw up in your bathroom. On New Year’s Day, I crawled off the futon and into your bed, so hung-over I could barely see, while he watched football and yelled at the top of his lungs. I wanted you to be happy and with him, at least for a while, you were. I would never, ever tell you how to live your life or that your decisions are wrong. Perhaps that is the difference between us.
Maybe if I’d spoken up a little more, I’d have been a better friend. I like to think that I have been a good friend up to this point. You have been an excellent friend to me until now. I am hurt because my husband is hurt. I am hurt that you did not talk to me about the things that were eating away at you inside. I’m disappointed that you did not feel that you could be honest me. I wonder how many comments you’ve made to other people about your dislike and, in your eyes, my stupidity. I’ve been on the receiving end of those comments in the past.
Fuck, I’m so hurt. It has been almost a week and we have not spoken. I will not call you. I will not write you, email you or text you. It is up to you to come to me. I hope you do. My initial reaction is to come to you, to tell you it’s ok, sweep it under the table, forget about it. But I can’t this time.
I can only wish that you see what you have done that I believe is so heinous. It’s not wrong to have those thoughts and feelings. It’s only wrong to hide them from me and to berate my husband. You had no place doing that, although you probably think it’s for my own good. You have overstepped a boundary. I hope you can see that.