I Miss My Friend

I have changed this blog title/song name more times tonight than I can count. I thought about Johnny Cash’s "Fair Weather Friends", Pink’s "Who Knew?", even We Used To Be Friends by the Dandy Warhols.

I have written this blog in as many different ways. Probably more.

One started with me referencing this article I read about the break-up of a friendship. It covered everything. When you grow apart because of distance, when you’ve had a big fight, and why it’s sometimes harder than a romantic break-up. I get that. If my husband and I were to separate, I would go to my best friend about it, but who do you talk to about your separation from your best friend? For those of you that though “your husband” I get that. Your husband can be your best friend and I am not saying I don’t feel that way about mine, but it’s not the same. Husbands of women like me are conditioned to take our side, right or wrong, tell us we look pretty and say how awful the other person must be. I don’t want to hear that.  And, the whole article was about best friends who are both women, not the case here.

I started another that rehashed all my best friend break-ups in my 27 years. My first was with CeCe in Kindergarten. She moved or I did. Saw her years later and it was like “Oh hey, you got fat. Oh, no you’re a teen mom? Wow.” Yeah, all kinds of awkward. There was a pretty good retelling of my many-a-stupid spats with my friend Kooie (yeah, if you’re reading this…it’s YOU) in middle school and the beginning of high school. We always made up but they still stung. I was delving into the fact that as women, it seems like we are genetically predisposed to fighting and bickering with each other and how great it was to finally have a BFF that didn’t have ovaries. But then I got sad and realized that now I DON’T have a BFF without ovaries.

I wrote one where all of his flaws were listed. One by one I destroyed his character in trademark Fat Bottomed Girl form. It was better than any Thursday Thrashing. Every time he let me down, didn’t call, hurt my feelings, etc. was on here. Every woman he every scorned (even though I had condoned it) was vindicated with my words. The latest one, eviscerated with the click of my keys. But for what? He was my best friend in spite of and sometimes because of his flaws. And the new broad? Maybe she has something to do with this, maybe she doesn’t, but he’s the only one responsible for his actions. Besides, it kinda made me seem like a jilted ex and that’s not the route I want to take. 

One of them retold our friendship from the beginning. It was actually pretty sweet. Mostly good, minus a few drunken moments here or there. It was quite long too, six years worth of wonderful times with your best friend can get lengthy. I recounted the million times we went to dinner while my husband was deployed and I was pregnant. How he would warn me not to eat the buffalo wings because I would just throw them back up and me cursing him that he was right as I puked. BBQ’s at our house, talking shit together to anyone who dared to not root for Texas; every fun time or meaningful conversation filled the page. When I got to the past few months though, I trailed off. I didn’t want to write about our end. I didn’t want to talk about the not returned phone calls and the disinterest and the wedge that turned the 500-mile distance between our homes into light years. I still don’t. I want to take back the angry text messages I sent, no matter how truthful they were. I want to pretend that he’s not a bad friend. I want to believe he’s just been really busy, that he hasn’t had time for anyone, not just me. I want, I want, I want. But we don’t always get what we want.

Sometimes, you just have to walk away. Or in this case, stop trying. Sometimes it just hurts too much to put in effort when the other person doesn’t. It’s like a friendship version of He’s Just Not That Into You except I didn’t get my copy until it was already a national best seller.

I don’t even know how to end this. I’m at 750-ish words and I’m not even sure if I’ve said anything at all. I have 10 different Word docs filled with priceless gems of blogs that all convey how I’m feeling and I don’t want to post a single one. I don’t want to share this with any of you because it makes it final. What happens if he says sorry tomorrow? Will he read this and change? Will he read this and not change? Fuck, like he can read. (I had to get in one zinger.) 

I just didn’t see this coming and yet, I saw it coming all along. 

I miss my friend.