I’ve never really had a circle but I’ve still had some drama.
With my school age years of being an outcast and thusly dubbed a loner with both being fully enhanced by being an only child with special needs and moving several times a year until I was in junior high, the knack of making friends was a skill I never really acquired or developed.
Sure, I’ve had many acquaintances and casual friends but people have come in and out of my life like seasons that once past are mostly forgotten save for maybe some occasional highlighted memories or experiences further confirming that broken part of me has never healed or grown.
Case in point: after a good ten years of near total social isolation except for a few persistent business contacts, I began venturing out in the world and became a regular at a small, where-everyone-knows-your-name type neighborhood dive bar. Eventually, I befriended a girl some 24 years younger and over time, this grew into something that became important to me but I always kept a certain distance because in the real world I am pretty reluctant to let people broach my lofty walls.
We had things in common despite the age gap but in other areas, mainly politics, we were polar opposites and often argued the subject. She was from a traditional white bread Republican family that even lived her whole life in the same house until she was an adult and lacked many of my more, shall we say “worldly” experiences but we still got along despite our differences.
We were both blondes, reasonably pretty and popular, liked to drink & smoke weed, music and chatting up the boys and generally acted as each other’s back up or wing ma’am at the bar if you will. I was more the quiet listener and observer while she was the outgoing non-stop talker but we were almost always together.
I was kind of in awe of all her affairs and hook-ups which she couldn’t wait to regale me with every intimate detail of and I became somewhat of her counselor, maybe somewhat of a fun mom figure and refuge while perhaps also living vicariously through some of her exploits. She’d come to my house and cry on my shoulder and would stay for days and sometimes a week at a time and I became quite fond of her and comfortable with her being around as drama filled as it all was.
After two years of this, of building trust and confidence, I finally filled in some of the intentionally omitted and more private details about my life. For me, this opening up is kind of the final barrier to letting someone really know me and taking things to a higher level. It takes a lot for me to deal with this.
I was all good and maybe brought us closer and was really more irrelevant than anything and we carried on the same for another two years and when she wasn’t with one of her boyfriends or was fighting with them, she was at my house for days without end to the point we were almost roommates.
Then one night, we met this charming and funny and very attractive guy we were both kind of taken by and as he was close to her age and I could have been his mother and as I saw the spark between them in spite of being a bit envious, I knew right away they were going to be together or at lease hook up until one of them got bored. (kids, sheesh!)
At this point in time, on the weekends when the bar closed, people were coming to my house to after party and when she wanted to bring this handsome stranger we’d just met, I said okay and that was pretty much all she wrote. They became an instant couple.
For the next six months or so the two of them were at my house every weekend when we’d party until dawn and beyond but for a while until things really solidified between them and she made up her mind what she was doing with him, she was still sleeping on my couch a couple times a week. Then she got pregnant at 40 years old and for me, that was the end of the line. I had never really given her much credit for being smart but to me, this was the ultimate display of irresponsibility, stupidity and selfishness and combined with a few other things that happened, I ended our friendship and cut things off between us completely so she could get on with her new life.
I will add in here that a lot to do with this is my own feelings of inadequacy or jealously or maybe it’s even the dysphoria brought up by not being able to have my own children plus the fact that the last pregnant person I was around, I ended up getting too involved and took over raising her baby as my own and I didn’t want that to happen again even though I couldn’t love my surrogate daughter and grandson more and am ever so grateful for the experience.
I’ve spoken to this former friend less than half a dozen times In the last nearly two years. Three months after her baby was born she called to tell me she was pregnant again (at 42) and all I could do was shake my head and politely wish her good luck.
People change and situations change. The things we shared and did together and all the things we had in common disappeared rather quickly and it became evident to me I am the same shitty person I’ve always been when it comes to friendships and even though at the time I felt a great deal of intimacy with her, in the end it was all situational and superficial. At times I really miss her. Even making any sort of friendships with other women is really hard for me and I do have good memories but with yet another failure and complete disillusionment in bar life, I am back to living in total social withdrawal and isolation and making peace with that as I expect nothing but the same until I die.
I do like to think I have one friend but it is more complicated than that and more like family to me than friend and that’s the stupid man I met almost 40 years ago that has truly shown me what it means to love someone. Even after 26 years of divorce, other relationships for us both and him being remarried, he’s always there for me and several weeks ago when I hurt myself and couldn’t get out of bed, he dropped everything to come and help me, called me every day and came back a few more times and brought food because I couldn’t get to the store. Still though, I really miss having a woman friend and don’t see any way of ever making one again so I’ll continue distracting myself with creative and challenging hobbies and just get on with things as that weird neighborhood hermit lady that no one ever sees. I’m good with that or at least that’s what I tell myself!
With my school age years of being an outcast and thusly dubbed a loner with both being fully enhanced by being an only child with special needs and moving several times a year until I was in junior high, the knack of making friends was a skill I never really acquired or developed.
Sure, I’ve had many acquaintances and casual friends but people have come in and out of my life like seasons that once past are mostly forgotten save for maybe some occasional highlighted memories or experiences further confirming that broken part of me has never healed or grown.
Case in point: after a good ten years of near total social isolation except for a few persistent business contacts, I began venturing out in the world and became a regular at a small, where-everyone-knows-your-name type neighborhood dive bar. Eventually, I befriended a girl some 24 years younger and over time, this grew into something that became important to me but I always kept a certain distance because in the real world I am pretty reluctant to let people broach my lofty walls.
We had things in common despite the age gap but in other areas, mainly politics, we were polar opposites and often argued the subject. She was from a traditional white bread Republican family that even lived her whole life in the same house until she was an adult and lacked many of my more, shall we say “worldly” experiences but we still got along despite our differences.
We were both blondes, reasonably pretty and popular, liked to drink & smoke weed, music and chatting up the boys and generally acted as each other’s back up or wing ma’am at the bar if you will. I was more the quiet listener and observer while she was the outgoing non-stop talker but we were almost always together.
I was kind of in awe of all her affairs and hook-ups which she couldn’t wait to regale me with every intimate detail of and I became somewhat of her counselor, maybe somewhat of a fun mom figure and refuge while perhaps also living vicariously through some of her exploits. She’d come to my house and cry on my shoulder and would stay for days and sometimes a week at a time and I became quite fond of her and comfortable with her being around as drama filled as it all was.
After two years of this, of building trust and confidence, I finally filled in some of the intentionally omitted and more private details about my life. For me, this opening up is kind of the final barrier to letting someone really know me and taking things to a higher level. It takes a lot for me to deal with this.
I was all good and maybe brought us closer and was really more irrelevant than anything and we carried on the same for another two years and when she wasn’t with one of her boyfriends or was fighting with them, she was at my house for days without end to the point we were almost roommates.
Then one night, we met this charming and funny and very attractive guy we were both kind of taken by and as he was close to her age and I could have been his mother and as I saw the spark between them in spite of being a bit envious, I knew right away they were going to be together or at lease hook up until one of them got bored. (kids, sheesh!)
At this point in time, on the weekends when the bar closed, people were coming to my house to after party and when she wanted to bring this handsome stranger we’d just met, I said okay and that was pretty much all she wrote. They became an instant couple.
For the next six months or so the two of them were at my house every weekend when we’d party until dawn and beyond but for a while until things really solidified between them and she made up her mind what she was doing with him, she was still sleeping on my couch a couple times a week. Then she got pregnant at 40 years old and for me, that was the end of the line. I had never really given her much credit for being smart but to me, this was the ultimate display of irresponsibility, stupidity and selfishness and combined with a few other things that happened, I ended our friendship and cut things off between us completely so she could get on with her new life.
I will add in here that a lot to do with this is my own feelings of inadequacy or jealously or maybe it’s even the dysphoria brought up by not being able to have my own children plus the fact that the last pregnant person I was around, I ended up getting too involved and took over raising her baby as my own and I didn’t want that to happen again even though I couldn’t love my surrogate daughter and grandson more and am ever so grateful for the experience.
I’ve spoken to this former friend less than half a dozen times In the last nearly two years. Three months after her baby was born she called to tell me she was pregnant again (at 42) and all I could do was shake my head and politely wish her good luck.
People change and situations change. The things we shared and did together and all the things we had in common disappeared rather quickly and it became evident to me I am the same shitty person I’ve always been when it comes to friendships and even though at the time I felt a great deal of intimacy with her, in the end it was all situational and superficial. At times I really miss her. Even making any sort of friendships with other women is really hard for me and I do have good memories but with yet another failure and complete disillusionment in bar life, I am back to living in total social withdrawal and isolation and making peace with that as I expect nothing but the same until I die.
I do like to think I have one friend but it is more complicated than that and more like family to me than friend and that’s the stupid man I met almost 40 years ago that has truly shown me what it means to love someone. Even after 26 years of divorce, other relationships for us both and him being remarried, he’s always there for me and several weeks ago when I hurt myself and couldn’t get out of bed, he dropped everything to come and help me, called me every day and came back a few more times and brought food because I couldn’t get to the store. Still though, I really miss having a woman friend and don’t see any way of ever making one again so I’ll continue distracting myself with creative and challenging hobbies and just get on with things as that weird neighborhood hermit lady that no one ever sees. I’m good with that or at least that’s what I tell myself!
Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.