Why I Don't Have Friends

"I have no trouble with my enemies. But my goddam friends,...they are the ones that keep me walking the floor nights." -Oscar Levant

Taking a little break today from breast cancer. It's nice to remember I'm more than just a diagnosis.

I have to admit that I really like it when people are interested enough or encouraging enough to leave a comment. I hate to admit that I do, but there you are. I bring new meaning to the word "introvert." I've always been a little nervous that, if something goes horribly wrong in my neighborhood like a beheading or murderous rampage, everyone will suggest the cops head on over to my house. It's always the loner, you know. Were it not for my family and co-workers, I might never interact with another human being. My therapist opines (accurately, I think) that at least part of my problem has to do with the truly crappy relationships I've been in...and I don't mean just with men. I have known some really crazy and destructive women. They're drawn to me, I think, because I seem all soft and nurturing. I am soft and nurturing, but at this point in my life, I am really reluctant to share it.

IAll this is by way of saying that I've had lots of positive contact with unknown people online and I've come to appreciate this medium. No one is going to call me up and expect me to talk about their bad marriage, their crappy job, their crazy colleagues. You get my drift. No one is going to be disappointed when I turn down lunch for the fifth time. No one is going to be angry with me for not calling them first.

I lost my best friend of thirty years recently. She was 49 years old and died of a massive heart attack. Every day of my life I miss her. The other long-term friend I jettisoned just finally drove me so crazy that I couldn't stand to be her friend anymore. I'd known her since I was 17 years old. She once saved my life. That kept things going for a long time after I knew that ours would always be a relationship on the edge of dissolution. SC had a schizophrenic mother, so we were able to bond over the whole mental illness thing when we were young girls.

SC has a notion that I (and some others) should be at her beck and call whenever she needs me. No matter how sick I am, how tired I am, how busy I am, she always wanted me to drop everything and devote some serious time to meeting her needs. Over the years, I would take breaks from the relationship. I'd just stop calling for a year or so and then, impelled mainly by guilt, I'd call her up and lavish apologies on her. Several years ago, she decided to pay me back.

I missed her fucking birthday. I was involved in planning a major event for work that weekend. I was also trying to line up folks for a renovation project at my house. I'd been suffering from a stress related disorder for the previous year and a half. I was remiss. When it dawned on me, a week later, that I'd forgotten to call, I was filled with dread. I knew she was going to be pissed off in a major way. Nonetheless, I made myself call.

She avoided a couple of my calls by telling her children to tell me she wasn't home. Finally she decided to give me my comeuppance. She answered and I asked how she was. She told me she'd decided to change her name from her maiden name to her husband's name. She asked if I'd gotten the announcement. Hell, I had no idea. I was lucky if I knew what day it was at that point in my life. I told SC that I hadn't been checking the mail lately. At that point, she blew up. She told me that she didn't want to talk to me anymore and that she would get in touch with me if she ever decided she wanted to forgive me. I attempted to remonstrate and she hung up on me.

The funny thing was that after I got over being pissed of that she'd hung up on me, I was actually relieved. It felt like some huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I found myself smiling. For days afterward.

She sent me a note shortly after my dad died and then contacted me again about a year ago to inform me she'd given my phone number to people who were organizing my high school reunion. (You cannot imagine how little interest I have in reuniting with any of my high school cohorts.) Too late. I decided I'd had about enough from her. I'd tolerated her rage attacks for far too long. I never respond to any communication from her. We still live in the same city, but it's big enough to make it unlikely we'll run into each other. Even if we do, it would make no difference to me.

That was the turning point in my life when I decided that friends were a burden I am not willing to take on. My therapist keeps trying to change my mind and someday I may. Not now. I've tasted freedom and it's pretty heady.

America held hostage day 1373
Bushism of the day:
"I had the honor of calling Dale Earnhardt, Jr., after the race, to congratulate him. I said, there's nothing wrong with a fellow following in his father's footsteps."
—Bush, on Feb. 16, the day after watching racecar driver Dale Earnhardt Jr. win the Daytona 500. (Dale Earnhardt, Sr. died in a crash on the last lap of the Daytona 500 in 2001.)

Website of the day: CECC Chinese Philosphy
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