Someone owes me an apology.
Someone I know socially and thought was a friend, in part because she is with someone who is a very good friend and partly because I've known her for a long time. We were never what you would call great friends, but we were friendly and she was nice to my kids (my soft spot). And it seemed like we should be friends, because we have things in common. Friends and interests in common. That's where friendship begins, right?
Flash back to several years ago: there was a party and a friend who was upset about something that, in the big picture doesn't really matter, but over breakfast the next day was annoying and confusing to everyone. I commiserated, in a way less vocal than what one might expect from me. In a way less vocal than I might expect from myself - I am not known for my suppressed opinions. But in a disagreement between friends I felt uncomfortable and kept mostly silent.
For all the good it did.
Because this "friend," this mutual someone, gossiped about me to others, attributing remarks to me that I never said, in a way that almost completely killed my friendship with one of the parties in the temporary annoyance. What she said was 90% untrue, and it was more than a little galling that any of our mutual friends would believe me capable of such bad faith. Yet here we are, years later, and one friend is only kind of over it. Part of him believes I said terrible things about him. So much so that when he and I finally discussed The Annoyance face to face, I could see in his eyes that he didn't completely believe me, and still today there is a rift in the treasured friendship. We stopped having dinner together, coffee together. I was heartbroken. It was like losing a family member. A godfather, actually.
And so, with a few casual lies over lunch, she destroyed a friendship of over 20 years, maybe forever.
But she is with my other friend, someone sweet, without guile and deserving of unconditional love. Someone who should be appreciated and cared for and whom I love like a brother.
I should try to get over it, right? For his sake. That is what Jesus would do. What the Dalai Lama would do. What Salvador Dali would do. This is what I told myself. Over and over again. But I was operating at a net loss, and it was hard to get over.
It's one thing to have lost a friendship, it is quite another to have it stolen from you.
Eventually I was able to meet her socially without wanting to shake her by the shoulders (or punch her in the face). Eventually I mustered my inner bigger person and accepted the inevitability of her presence and moved on. I'm good at not remembering slights which is perfect for this kind of situation. I let it go, more or less. We had fewer invitations from the beloved friend she gossiped to, and that stung. But after a while one can be perceived as protesting too much. So I stopped talking about it and hoped for the best. Waited for time to heal.
Years pass, and instead of healing, she inflicts a new injury, an obvious and public slight. Invited to dinner, then univited to dinner. Two hours before dinner, after we were dressed, before we actually left. After the kids knew of our plans. After we'd discussed the dinner with friends, what we would bring, what time we would be there, etc. Nothing important, simply another dinner where we would all be together. Except not.
A simple text to announce "Rain." And not enough room for us. Sorry. "We'll see you next time."
Everyone knew, but no one knew why. I still don't know why.
Reports back from the dinner were "everyone who is always there was there, except for you. Dinner as usual."
Friends who were aware of the slight were embarrassed and uneasy, they knew that something had happened, a line had been drawn, but no one knew why. What had we done?
The best part of being me is that I almost always know when I've made someone upset and why.
But not this time.
As far I knew, I was the injured party - from that time years ago, the thing she and I never talked about and no one apologized and we all just pretended had never happened.
So what could I have done except to ignore a grievous slight?
Here's the thing: for The Annoyance, 90% of the words attributed to me were untrue - but 10% was true. I was not blameless. So part of my getting over it was accepting my responsibility and moving forward. But for this dinner, this slight, I did nothing for which I can account. And still today, months later, I can't ignore the insult and I'm not getting over it. Even though a bigger person surely would.
What would Salvadore Dali do?
I'm sure I should forgive and forget and blah blah fucking blah. Suck it up. See the big picture. Ignore the smaller person who insists on making herself smaller at every opportunity.
But no. All I can see are melting clocks.
I'm owed an apology. A real one. Not a back-handed simper "I'm sorry you feel that I slighted you in front of your children and all of your friends." Kiss kiss.
The ironic part is that the universe keeps showing me articles written by other people about how to apologize. The best is this one, and it's one that I fully intend to incorporate into our family. But not for this event, because while there may be outstanding apologies for me to give, this is not one of them.
And while I hate to think of myself as unforgiving, I'm also starting to believe that if you turn the other cheek too many times in the face of obvious treachery, you are living the definition of insanity. Complete with melting clocks and crazy mustaches.
I look terrible in a mustache.
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