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He’s finally engaged.
I have a variety of emotions thrown at me when I find out. Part of the chaos is from just getting off the phone with Pen (see previous entry; more on this later). Part of me is stunned. I knew it would happen sometime and soon, but it still stung a tiny bit. We had plans to get dinner and catch up when I was in St. Louis, but he chickened out via text message (although it was his idea). I called him on it and we never spoke again.
He is, for me, what I am to Pen. That #2 in your life that liberates you of what you thought was the norm and showing the way things could be. He was the one that showed me all the physical stuff didn’t have to be used as a tool for manipulation or lies or control. It could be fun and something I could own for myself.
The tiny tick that hurts is that I was never good enough for him to commit, but like Mel told me, “Sometimes I think we’re all girl scouts and instead of ‘leaving our campsites cleaner than when we found them,’ we leave our men better than when we found them. We help them understand women better and, in some cases, understand themselves. And what thanks do we get? They find great relationships after they’re done with us.”
The truth is, as much as he hurt me, he also contributed to making me who I am now. Despite the last year being rough, I AM pretty proud of how far I’ve come. And as one man walks permanently out of my life, another steps in.
As hard as I’ve tried to follow the 2-day rule, I’ve found that my mind still wanders to another man, Pen (see previous entry). He actually calls. So I may have told him straight up he better keep in touch, even if it as only friends or I wouldn’t let him kiss me. It’s a first and I’m unsure how to handle a guy who treats me the way he does. But it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? This is the way it’s supposed to be. I shouldn’t be so in awe of these actions. But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I wasn’t being swept up by all the niceness. There’s been plenty of nice guys that I wasn’t attracted to and I promised to never settle even when I was lonely.
So what does this mean? I have an opportunity to go visit NYC for Labor Day due to a possible free mileage ticket. I have possibly one day off I can squeeze out of work. I have 50+ friends I need to see there, but I think I would be very happy staying in with him all weekend. That terrifies me. This entire situation freaks me out. I lose my cool when I’m around him, chatting nervously like a little bird to fill up the silences that I’m not used to yet. When he says nothing and just looks at me, I get butterflies and have to blink away because his gaze is so penetrating.
He frustrates me often with his stupid simple man logic (“Wait, why are you complaining about the lack of women boots? You just said there were so many options when you walked in!”) and he likes the wrong sports teams. He goes to bed at midnight and gets up at 7am daily while I find my best energy late at night. Yet, I still want to keep him around to see where it’s going.
Going to NY signifies so much more than just a fun jaunt to the city. After New Orleans, St. Louis and Austin, it’s another home although I never lived there. Going there when I could be going somewhere new (and with Africa soon after) is a giant step. On paper, it’s a horrible idea. Why get attached? Whey get more involved when this is clearly going nowhere with the distance? Like Kilimanjaro, there’s 1000 reasons not to do it and only a handful of good ones. But oh, are those handful really good ones! I promised I would stay open to the possibilities, but not pursue actively. Getting on that plane is breaking all the rules.
Logic or heart? Which?!
Summer: Ok. I, like being on my own. I think relationships are messy and people’s feelings get hurt. Who needs it? We’re young, we live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world; might as well have fun while we can and, save the serious stuff for later.
McKenzie: You’re a dude. [to Tom] She’s a dude!
Tom: Ok but wait–wait. What happens, if you fall in love?
Tom: What?
Summer: You don’t believe that, do you?
Tom: It’s love, it’s not Santa Claus.
The definition of strange:
Waking up with someone in the same bed and not because he happened to pass out next to you. It’s unfamiliar to fall asleep in someone’s arms and wake up back in them, even if there was moving around and separation in the night. It’s even more startling to be held for the sole sake of him wanting to be close to you and not because he’s thinking about how to get into your pants. And he’s not afraid to admit how much he enjoys it. He brings a present with him because his mother –like mine–taught him to never visit someone empty handed. It’s a book that I had been wanting for awhile; he remembers, orders it and wraps it in yellow tissue paper.
This is apparently how it’s supposed to be. The whole weekend completely threw me for a loop. It’s terrifying to have someone look at me the way he does. He seems me as a sensual and sexy when all I see is a clumsy awkward tomboy. In the places I see fat and wide hips, he sees beautiful curves and everything that makes a woman a woman. Where I see lopsided different sized breasts, he sees perfection.
While I’ve been on a carpe diem journey with guys in the last few years, he’s been reserved and conservative about his affection. He stood where I stood 3 years ago and it makes me dizzy to be standing in the place where most of the guys in my history were in my life. I teach and he learns and I watch as he lets go years of conflicts.
The time was filled with ups and down and lefts and rights, all shuffling around like a chaotic organized mess. In the quiet moments, I finally felt what a real relationship is like, something I haven’t experienced in seven years.
But the real world slips in on this early morning and we smile at each other under sleepy eyes as I drop him off at the airport. He returns to his NY world and I to mine. To my surprise, I don’t ask him what’s going to happen or the future or what this all was. I don’t even panic or worry. Apparently I’m growing, too. Instead, I leave the weekend just as it was: a great wonderful memory and time spent with a rare kind of guy. If he wants more, he’ll have to keep up his end and come after me.
Summer: “One day I woke up and I just knew.”
Tom: “Knew what?”
Summer: “What I was never sure of with you.”
The definition of strange:
Waking up with someone in the same bed and not because he happened to pass out next to you. It’s unfamiliar to fall asleep in someone’s arms and wake up back in them, even if there was moving around and separation in the night. It’s even more startling to be held for the sole sake of him wanting to be close to you and not because he’s thinking about how to get into your pants. And he’s not afraid to admit how much he enjoys it. He brings a present with him because his mother, like mine, taught him to never visit someone empty handed. It’s a book that I had been wanting for awhile; he remembers, orders it and wraps it in yellow tissue paper.
This is apparently how it’s supposed to be. The whole weekend completely threw me for a loop. It’s terrifying to have someone look at me the way he does. He seems me as sensual and sexy when all I see is a clumsy awkward tomboy. In the places I see fat and wide hips, he sees beautiful curves and everything that makes a woman a woman. Where I see lopsided different sized breasts, he sees perfection.
While I’ve been on a carpe diem journey with guys in the last few years, he’s been reserved and conservative about his affection. He stood where I stood 3 years ago and it makes me dizzy to be standing in the place where most of the guys in my history were in my life. I teach and he learns and I watch as he lets go years of conflicts.
The time was filled with ups and down and lefts and rights, all shuffling around like a chaotic organized mess. In the quiet moments, I finally felt what a real relationship is like, something I haven’t experienced in seven years.
But the real world slips in on this early morning and we smile at each other under sleepy eyes as I drop him off at the airport. He returns to his NY world and I to mine. To my surprise, I don’t ask him what’s going to happen or the future or what this all was. I don’t even panic or worry. Apparently I’m growing, too. Instead, I leave the weekend just as it was: a great wonderful memory and time spent with a rare kind of guy. If he wants more, he’ll have to keep up his end and come after me.
Summer: “One day I woke up and I just knew.”
Tom: “Knew what?”
Summer: “What I was never sure of with you.”
Well, Mel, you called it. Out of nowhere, Pen is back in my life. Although we’ve kept in touch on and off in the last year through emails and occasional Facebook conversations, I never thought much about it.
Then out of nowhere last week, we ended up talking for 4 hours until 2am on Facebook chat (for anyone who knows, this is dedication because it’s a crappy application and he’s an hour ahead of me in NY). A few more all-night chats the last few days and I think we’ve probably talked about everything most people avoid on the first date (sex, past relationships, religion, work…). Before all this, we had thrown around the idea of him visiting with Mr. Bruised Ego in the fall, but last night, out of nowhere:
“So, I have kind of a big question. How do you feel about a visitor in early August? I would love to spend time with you.”
I, of course, told him it was a great idea, but inside, I was panicking. Because, WHOA. This has never happened to me that a guy that I’m actually attracted to (more on this later) actually is interested and NOT because he’s trying to get in my pants. He’s probably the last existing old-fashioned single male out there with only old-fashioned dates, maybe a kiss at the door and sex only when it’s serious (ha, remember when I was like this a year ago?).
It feels foreign, strange, terrifying and exciting. My friends don’t seem to grasp why this is scary, but emotionally, how is it not? Every guy that I’ve ever been interested in or attracted to was either completely unavailable or running for the hills because they only wanted to get some. And now, there’s a guy who isn’t looking for that and is interested in me for solely me. Yes, it’s great, but it’s also making my chest freeze up and my heart panic.
Firstly, it feels like we’ve been online dating and we’re about to meet for the first time even though we’ve already met. Will be be awkward? What if it’s completely wrong in person? What if it’s just uncomfortable?
Secondly, I’m not sure the physical attraction is 100% there for me. This grows over time, of course, but as most girls know, once you realize there is none of that chemistry/attraction, it’s over and the guy is delegated to the friend zone no matter how much you like his personality. With Mr. Pilot and Mr. Co-worker, the physical attraction was so instant, but of course never made up for the lack of spine on their part. What if it doesn’t show up? Having been here before where the guy really likes me but I feel nothing because of the lack of attraction physically, I just end up feeling awkward.
Third, I’m not terrified of getting hurt at all (strangely) in this case, but more the fear of what this COULD mean. A guy who actually is upfront, doesn’t play games and compliments me sincerely? What am I supposed to do with that?!
So I guess I’m going to just breathe and roll with it and be myself with no expectations. Easier said than done…
I was chatting with an acquaintance recently about my consistent bad luck with men. As a “trained love expert” (he was trained by some famous teacher, Dr. Paul), he is confident about his abilities to diagnose people. I remain skeptical, of course.
N: You’re a romantic.
J: What? I thought I was a cynical realist.
N: Which means you’re a closeted idealist with scars on the surface (yes, he really said this).
J: Huh.
N: You told me before “chemistry” is confusing to you. It’s there and so you think you should grab onto it only to find it means nothing.
J: Mhmm
N: You see attraction as love.
J: Well, I wouldn’t say THAT. I haven’t been in love or loved in years and years. More like I see attraction as potential and possibility.
N: Right, so your problem is screening people.
And then he was adamant I read a book by Dr. Paul that would change my life because it changed his. Like some mysterious guide, he left the conversation with this, “Contact me again when you’ve read the book.”
Huh. I’ve definitely posted enough times on this blog about my confusion with chemistry and attraction. Is it an indicator of anything? In my experiences, it ends up getting me hurt because I thrive so much on it in the beginning. So yeah, maybe I am a closeted idealist (shhh), but where does that leave me?
I have a good friend named Jenny that I met at summer camp in 7th grade; we discovered we had the same birthday, both born out of this country, at the same hospital 9 minutes apart. Our little sisters even share the same name. While I grew up determined to be fiercely independent, lover of camping and backpacking and a tomboy, she moved to California and became the opposite.
She called me at the crack of dawn this morning and dropped the bomb that her boyfriend of 5-years just dumped her because he saw no future. “Why?! Why does it have to happen to me? [Well, Jenny, it really does happen to a lot of people. I want to be married with kids and I thought he was it.”
If someone that believes so much in love can’t get it right, what chances do I have when I’m not even looking? Should I read this book? He’s adamant that it will change everything for me.
One of my first friends here was a guy named Greg, a tall, incredibly attractive laid-back guy. He was friendly, open to introducing me to people, taking me partying and helping me adjust to my new life in Austin. We even discussed working on some freelance projects together. Then, out of the blue, he started snapping at me when we were competition in Houston a few weeks ago. Confused and upset, I suddenly felt like I was back in the years with my on-and-off again ex. Not a good feeling. His tone of voice, his comments and look on his face were so similar that I froze up and didn’t speak to him for awhile.
While trying to put my feelings into words in one of my self-over-analyzation sessions, I came to a startling realization. Those 6-7 years of really f-ed up relationship/friendship/co-dependency was considered emotionally abusive. All this time, I had never put words to the situation. I wasn’t blind to the fact it wasn’t right and the whole situation was a bad habit. But like any of those draining relationships, I was so used the horrible ache in my chest that I couldn’t imagine life without it, no matter how much I wanted it gone.
Then I went through a wide range of emotions from anger to embarrassment to shock and relief. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was being dramatic. But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered all the instances he was cruel to me with biting remarks that left me insecure and cut-down to nothing. Comments about what I was wearing (I didn’t dress like a real girl until recently and it continues to be a struggle since I have no fashion sense), about any guy I was hanging around with that he didn’t know (I’ll spare y’all the harsh wording), etc, etc.
He was my best friend and in the beginning, we were attached at the hip and told each other everything while laying in a hammock under the stars. But that’s what those kind of relationships are like, right? Filled with amazing memories of things being SO good that it hides the crap underneath.
A large part of this revelation is feeling stupid for not seeing it as emotional abuse earlier. But, as hard as that is to come in terms with, I know, without a doubt, that I’m stronger now for getting myself over that and starting new.
So when Greg spoke to me like that, it hit a nerve. And it’s happened a few more times since (mixed in with super friendly instances – why are guy so bipolar?). I let it pass the first few time due to the stress and exhaustion of the competition weekend and backed off quickly from our friendship. But when it happened a few more times this weekend, I had to rethink a lot of issues and considered confronting him. His attacks and criticisms were so hostile and personal, as if my very personality and being offended him. And it’s JUST towards me; he’s his famous friendly self to all others.
A mutual friend thinks he misunderstood my friendliness and eagerness as liking him romantically and having a lot of girls after him often leaves him unsure how to handle them (he IS a bit vain). So what now? It’s in my nature to have the conversation, but my friend talks haven’t gone well lately and any discussion around feelings (even if non-existent) is incredibly awkward, especially with a new friend.
Whatever the outcome is, I’m strangely relieved to understand the past better now and hope I will continually remember so I can keep my head up now and in the future.
***This is my one and only mention about tomorrow’s big historical election:
I’ve never been big into politics. It’s never really interested me, even when my closets friends worked in campaigns and could lecture for hours on their views. This election, of course, is different. Either way, history is made and no matter what party you vote for, it’s an exciting time. Growing up in a very Republican Louisiana, attending the formative college years in swing-state Missouri (where I voted absentee) and now residing in a very liberal city (Austin) in a strong red state (TX) has definitely given me perspective. I wish I could say I understood the issues more, but I do know enough to stand strongly for Obama. It’s not that I consider myself affiliated with one party or another, but I’m more sure than ever, it’s time for a change and I think he’s the one to do that. That, and Palin terrifies me a bit.
What baffles me are people my age and generation who aren’t registered to vote, especially for this election. Today, I was talking to a friend and found out she wasn’t registered or even understood that it was a 5 minute process. So please, if you don’t know, ask or read or google! In the age of the internet, knowledge is so readily available to eliminate ignorance.
It’s been awhile. Life has been confusing and as it throws me around, I’m desperately seeking some footing to continue forward with all these changes. Writer’s block hasn’t been helping.
Work hasn’t gotten much better and socially, it’s still really lonely. I’ve met a lot of people, but not a group that I feel is my niche, ya know? I know it’s only been three weeks…
I’ve been told recently that I have unrealistic expectations and standards of my friends. It was a bit startling due to the fact that I’ve never felt I’ve asked much out of my friends other than being there emotionally and supportive of my choices. And in turn, I feel like I’ve been a pretty damn good friend.
Maybe it’s because I lucked out in high school and landed with an incredible group of girls that have withstood time. Others, too, have gotten close quickly and the ones I consider incredibly close to me can usually tell with a few sentences or off phrases that something is wrong. Obviously, I don’t expect this from every friend in my life; that would be ridiculous. But I guess for those privy to my innermost thoughts and emotions and the all that’s gone on, I find the that my standards are normal. Like if you date a guy casually, there’s not a need for him to be what a boyfriend is supposed to be, but once you reach that level, there’s an expectation of the way things should be.
People are often surprised to find I’m still friends with and keep in touch often with classmates from first grade or that I’m staying with a girl I met at summer camp in 7th grade and have seen twice since moving to Austin. But I’m that girl that’s going to remember your birthday for the rest of my life, even if we haven’t talked in years (no, I don’t expect the same in return. I’m just weird 
) Maybe that’s abnormal, but it’s who I am and you’re stuck with it.
I don’t find that I’m emotionally needy or even in constant need of emotional support. Quite the opposite, actually. If anything, I’ve been accused of being too careful of who I let in. Maybe it’s unfair that I have these standards for people that don’t want them, but as much as I’ve been through and the friends that I’ve lost along the way, I don’t want to be someone that hates people or shrinks away from them. My former co-worker used to always say, “J, you’re so full of sunshine and rainbows!” and one of my best friends likes to call me “exuberant.” Truthfully, I find that I’m just a painfully shy anxious cynical person, but apparently I hide it well.
A few years ago, when my parents got in a horrible swamp tour accident and their very good friend died, I was away at college when I got the news from my sister. My first instinct then was to call my then best friend/ex-bf; his reaction was of support, but to my absolute surprise, he shoved “comforting Jane” time in the 30 minutes he had free before a night of drinking. And actually ditched me to go get wasted, ignoring my absolute emotional mess while trying to find out anything about hospitals, my parents, etc. The next morning, I held nothing back and gave him a piece of my mind. I’m not afraid to speak up to those that hurt me, but on occasion, I may have to simmer and stew it out and let it settle before I can say something. Mostly because my first thought is how fake I feel while trying to keep up appearances that it’s okay from fear of insensitive responses or someone blowing it off. It’s my process and I guess it offends some people.
On another note, a friend’s mom died in a car accident yesterday. Not sure of the details, but keep her and her family in your thoughts.
We barely looked at each other last night. Other than a sentence or two, there was little interaction although our chairs were brushing each other for two hours. I had a head full of conversations and stories to tell him (let’s call him Mr. Adventure), but with the arrival of his newly moved-in girlfriend, my mouth remained shut. No matter how many times his best friends had warned me he was different around the girlfriend, I held out hope once we hung out again, things would fall into place and rapport would flow like it always did.
We had probably 4 short conversations:
1) Obligatory greeting: “Welcome back, Jane!”
2) Confusion about my return:
Him: “When did you get back from Europe?”
Me: “Three weeks ago.”
Him: “Wait, what? Really?!”
Me: “I haven’t been in STL* for 3 weeks, dummy. I clearly would have called if I was back.”
Him: “Oh, yeah. Right. I was going to say…”
3) “What, you’re just drinking water?” Disappointment on his face because he knows around certain people, I feel a little more comfortable drinking a little and he’s one of them.
4) Later on, in a weird moment of syncing deja vu, we spoke at the same time and finished the others’ sentence. I get I’m analyzing too much, but this is the way we’ve always interacted. His girlfriend had a look on her face that occured any time we conversed (those tiny 3 times), so I changed the subject. We were like strangers and it made me question this chemistry I swore existed.
Like I’ve said before, I don’t want to be that girl in someone’s boyfriend’s life. Having so many close guy friends, it often happens and I get filtered out of the guy’s life until the relationship ends. I was meeting this girl for the first time and the last thing I wanted to do was make her insecure, even if all of his family and friends don’t like her. It’s not my job to owe her anything, of course, but he’s convinced himself this is functional (he was about to break up with her when she surprised him by moving here). The entire time we sat there, all I could think was, “I miss ’single’ Mr. Adventure, the one always up for anything.”
When everyone parted ways that night, his best friend (seemingly former best friend nowadays) and I went to a late night diner and I spilled out my frustrations. He, too, misses Mr. Adventure and has made his feelings well known about his dislike for this new situation and intrusive girlfriend.
But it is what it is, right? People come and go and he came into my life in May when I unkwowingly needed it. Smallbone and I stood in our friend’s wedding this weekend and watched her also slip out of our lives. Of course, the argument can be made about “You husband is your new best friend. He’s your #1,” but watching her completely cut off her friends and become subservient to her new husband is frustrating. It hurts to let go of people and friendships and relationships that have played such an impact and realize it’s at the end. Some friends, you can pick up where you left off, but others, it just seems tiring to wait around and continually get hurt. Is this what growing up is about? Knowing when to count your losses and go or stay and risk it out? Are these choices supposed to be easier with age?
*I will say this: returning here has confirmed I made the right choice moving.
Ah, July 4th. The holiday of fireworks, patriotism and good BBQ. For me, it’s another chance for a random adventure. This time, somehow convincing 2 high school friends who were driving back to Houston, to accompany me on a spontaneous road trip to Austin (a city I’m considering for the future). We had a nice chill holiday together, coasting around town with 80s music playing and the windows down, so what better way to spend the rest of the weekend, but on a roadtrip?
So off we went. We packed up B’s (who happens to be a best friend’s HS ex-bf) little silver Camara and shoved me in the back in the tiny spot next to the boxes and clothes and luggage. B’s best friend, Mr. Former Crush, joined us since he had to be at work on Monday in Houston. With the wind blowing our hair and chatting about old times, I felt like I was 18 again: back in the days of single-sex schools and weekend double dates and driving around town looking for something to do. About an hour away from Houston, where we had planned to unload the car at their apartment and switch cars, we heard a loud bang. The air-condition went out, the power steering stopped functioning and we were suddenly pulling off the nearest exit into Beaumont, TX.
We looked everywhere for a gas station, but there was nothing. No gas station, no hotel, no motel, nothing. As in, the entire “downtown” was shut down like it had been deserted. After mangaging to get the car into a random parking lot and calling insurance for a tow truck, we had an hour to wait around, so we attempted to explore the town. Except there was nothing to explore. It felt like the beginning of a horror movie. Good thing it was still daylight or we all would have been packed in the car with no air, freaked out and afraid to leave.
It was pretty much a ghost town. We joked who would get killed first (since I was the only girl and the minority, I was voted in), what would happen if we had to stay for the weekend and how long it would take to walk to Houston. We circled the same blocks over and over again in the summer heat, passing what we thought was the only lodging in town with a few people creepily sitting frozen outside, only to discover it was a nursing home. So we walked and walked and found nothing but deserted streets and closed buildings, including Subway (“What?! 6pm on a Saturday and Subway is closed?”). By the time the tow truck shows up, we’ve thought of every scenario possible. With nothing open until Monday, we would most likely be stuck for the weekend with no car, sleeping at a Motel 6 and getting drunk if we could find a liquor store.
Our friendly tow trucker, Roundtree (that’s the actual name he gave us), confirmed our fears. Nothing was open. Motel 6, iHop and Taco Bell would be our only companions this weekend, but he would happily bring us to a liquor store to stock up. We had long figured out the fan belt had snapped so theoretically, it was an easy fix. As we pondered over our next move, Roundtree put some phone calls in and said he could bring us to his friend’s to look at the car, but we would first make a stop at AutoZone to buy a belt. The next thing we knew, we were sitting in the tow truck (thank God for air condition) with a $40 fan belt and pulling into the ghettos of Beaumont, TX. A crowd of men drinking beer and surrounded by cars came up and 20 minutes later, after much joking and talking, the fan belt was fixed. Total cost for service: $10 (we tipped $5 for the incredibly friendly help). Yes, that’s right. We got stranded and Nowhere, TX and go out, having spent only $55. Lesson learned: Always have an extra fan belt with you (according to the team of men that fixed the car, this is one of the most common problems).
And despite the fact it was dark when we reached Houston, we went to Austin anyway. Got in at midnight, found a hotel and ran around Sixth Street taking shots (I rarely, if ever drink, but given the occasion, I honored the guys for their patience) and crashed at the hotel.
Of course, the trip is not without a little bit of angst. Despite that I’m over the feelings, it’s impossible not to feel that tug of attraction to Mr. Former Crush, especially since it’s been a little lonely with no job to distract me. I’ve been resigned to the fact he sees me as a best friend/sister (his words to his new girlfriend who I have yet to meet), but it doesn’t make it easier when he’s sleeping in only his boxers in the next bed and we’re whispering in the dark and listening to B snore.
When we got back to Houston, B’s ex-gf (my best friend who is in Houston also now) popped up for pizza and a movie (we’ve remained good friends through the years) and we by chance, found a pre-Katrina New Orleans documentary on Discovery. It felt like we had gone back in time 10 years and I wanted to laugh at how much had changed, but how some things always remained the same: B and Mr. Former Crush arguing like a married couple, my best friend and I commenting about our unknown futures and mentioning funny ancedotes from the past. But then she leaves and B goes to sleep in his bedroom and the other goes to his and I lay on the couch wondering if I’m destined to always be the best friend/sister to all guys in my life.
My “best” friend is getting married. Ever since she started dating this guy, she’s been very distant in our friendship and even more critical/judgmental of me than she ever was. Then they got engaged and I was ecstatic. I am maid of honor! I flew to St. Louis on a whim to help her dress shop. I planned (and paid for) part of a bachelorette party/shower. I bought a $200 dress. I bought my flight to come to the wedding in July. I’ve handled a few stressed-out-bride phone calls to date.
A week ago I received my wedding invitation in the mail and was startled to find there was no “+1″ included in my reply card. I thought for sure this was a mistake, since I had already spoken with her about bringing one of my best guy friends as my date. I emailed her to find out, saying “so, I can’t bring a date…?” Her response was:
Nope. If you had a significant significant other you totally could, but you don’t because you don’t want one…
My jaw dropped, and stayed there for a good two minutes. I was wildly appalled, hurt, and felt completely discriminated against. It’s bad enough that I will be standing in front of her church as the “non-Christian friend” who they all know from her stories in bible group, and now I’m not even allowed to bring a companion to this very church-y wedding. I may choose to be single, but that doesn’t mean I have to be alone at a couples event. I felt like she was slapping me on the wrist for my decision not to be committed to a romantic relationship at this point in my life.
I ended up speaking with my mother to seek her advice. She said it’s probably not worth it to put up a fight. This is my friend’s day, and it’s clear we are moving in separate directions. We probably won’t speak much after the wedding. I should go with the flow and bite the bullet, knowing that in the end I will have taken the higher road. But I said, “Mom. I want to do that, but it is so frustrating from my end. I’m so hurt by her choice of words and I’m having trouble seeing the take-away lesson here.”
She said, “Tolerance. That’s the lesson. You’ll remember how you are feeling now and someday when it’s your turn you won’t treat your friends the same way. You’ll be more aware of other people and their beliefs, and you’ll be more tolerant and understanding of their differences. That’s the lesson. …Besides, if she makes such a fuss about you being non-Christian, maybe you don’t want someone in your life who is so critical of you in the first place.”
So I’m taking the high road, after shelling out a total of $900 to attend and be a part of a short daytime wedding that doesn’t even include a sit-down meal. And I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’m not gaining my best friend’s husband. I’m just losing a best friend.
