Friend fall down
I have a friend, K, who is my oldest friend in Toronto. I met her at a wrap party for a music video. She was the girlfriend of my now ex-boyfriend's best friend (following me?). I met her in the washroom basically, and we hit it off right away. She was really fun, inviting random girls to come out clubbing and generally being the life of the party. During the night, she and her boyfriend had a fight and we ended up back in the washroom, with her bawling her eyes out and me trying to comfort a near stranger. When I asked ex why he wasn't helping out (her boyfriend, L, had said some really awful things to her, in public too) he explained it was always like this. I couldn't get over his callousness.
The months went by, following the same pattern. K was always at ex's place because he lived with L. Every night, without exception, there would be some awful incident. One day, she ran out of their bedroom stark naked, screaming that he had hit her. I didn't doubt it. I pleaded with her to let me call the police, but she would always back down. She got so lovey-dovey with this abuser at one point that I couldn't even bear to look at her anymore. I was there for every teary phone call, getting physically in the middle of fist fights, the works. And I was there every...single...time she went back to him. She would coo that they were going to get married.
We went camping once, all of us together. Easily the worst weekend of my life. L got so drunk that he pinned her down in his tent, squeezing her neck until he left finger marks. She ran out into the road and I had to calm her down. We went for a walk. Before all this, I was angry, upset and feeling helpless. After this, I was beyond furious...I was into dangerous territory. When he came after us, 60 ouncer in one hand, calling her a whore, I'd had it. I smacked him one. A good one too. I was pushing him on the chest, calling him names I hadn't used since I learnt them. How dare he do those things to her and get away with it...how dare ex just shrug it all away?
When she stayed with him after that, I tried to distance myself. I couldn't take the pain of seeing someone make that mistake time and time again and come running to me for consoling. I felt like a fool. She did leave, about 6 months later, after finding someone else. I broke up with ex and moved on. I was living the high life in the city, she began to settle down in the country. Everything seemed to be going the way it should.
Of course, her next boyfriend, A, wasn't much better. He was good in the fact that he didn't beat her, not so good with the emotional bullying. She couldn't go out, couldn't phone friends, couldn't have a drink. He was a pot smoker, making hash oil out of his garage, a frequent strip club visitor. I was there for the tears, the fights, the make-ups. For the first time, I began to see the whole situation as being exacerbated by her. She was jealous, possessive, manic at times. She would kiss people in bars and then get enraged when he accused her (without knowing of course) of being "loose" and commanding her to stay at home. Her volatility scared me. She wanted to spend more time with me in the city, and I couldn't bear to have her stay for long. We would go to the clubs, she would get blind drunk within 15 minutes, and we'd have to go home. I paid for everything, because she always "forgot" her wallet. She would order a round of drinks and then look to me when the tab came. I felt taken advantage of.
I couldn't stand her lies, her exaggerations. I knew when she would lie to me, instantly. I would ask her a question, such as "so did you sleep with that guy?", and she would look and me for a beat, and then say "Oh no, no I didn't". I hated her telling me that she was on a bus when it was held up by men with knives, that she saw a woman drop a baby down the stairs, that she hit a dog on a road and took it back to it's owners, that she witnessed an accident and sat the guy in her car until help arrived. These stories simply weren't true and I felt less and less like humouring her.
Of course, there were good times, fun times. I wouldn't be her friend otherwise. But I felt things just spiraling out of control. I had a good job. She decided to spend $5000 on fake boobs and get a secretary's certificate. Any piece of advice I gave was never taken. I told her you can become a receptionist without spending $2500 on a certificate, (I was a receptionist at one point) but she decided to go further into debt. Soon, she began to hate her "married" lifestyle. She started on the anti-depressants. She fooled around more, complained constantly about being bored.
I met MB, moved into the country also, loving every minute. She nagged about how I had become "wifely" and that I was no fun anymore. She wanted to party and cut loose, and couldn't understand that I was moving past that.
She broke up with A, moved in with a colleague, cut loose. She had an affair with some guy. She and A still talked and agreed this was a break, not a break up. As soon as she "got this out of her system" (meaning, got all her going out and having fun over and done with) he would have her back, and she would be a proper stay-at-home again. She claimed she would only go back to A if he got her a dog, a claw foot tub and a makeup dresser. I was appalled at her general lack of...well, lack of everything! A claw-foot tub!? She began counting her freedom in purses. "I can go out whenever I want, come back when I want and I can have 7 purses and 3 different types of perfume" she told me smugly. "Oh, ok" I replied. "But K, you know that you can buy purses even if you are with someone?". "Oh, well, yeah, I guess" was her response, as if being attached instantly meant the end of your regular life as you know it.
She got back together with him three months ago. I guess she got her tub?
This weekend, I got a call. She and A had broken up (again). She was moved into an apartment, sharing with a 60 year old woman and her 6 grandchildren. I went to see her for moral support. She wanted to go clubbing. When I arrived she was looking awful. She had gained weight, cut off her hair, started smoking. She didn't look like the person I used to know. She told me she may be pregnant. I asked if it would be A's. She looked at me for a beat and said "yeah". I asked if she had been with someone else and she told me no. I knew she was lying. "So, you MAY be pregnant?" I asked. "Yeah, maybe" she replies. "Well, ok, before we go out tonight and have drinks, which would be bad for you, let's go and grab a test...Shopper's Drug Mart is right across the road". "Well, I'm probably not" she said defensively. Always the drama.
She introduced me to her new friends and told me that I was "upper class", which she used as a derogatory term. Hey, I went through hell to get where I am now...where do you get off telling me I am upper class? She told me she was staying at this awful place because there is room for her furniture there. I told her to put it in storage. "Yeah, but there's no heated storage around here". "Why do you need heated storage for furniture?" I ask. "Otherwise it will get damp" she says. "Why?" I replied, "It's only damp if there's no roof. Can you find a storage place with a roof?" (ok, I'm being sarcastic now).
She can't afford to live on her own, so she buys a $750 puppy. She can't afford to live on her own, so she buys a new car. She has fake boob debt and she's talking about taking a month off work.
Goddamnit I want to help the girl, but I can't keep doing this...I can't be witness to her constant inability to care for herself. Never have I met someone who takes less responsibility for her actions. She is so self-destructive that I can only listen to "Why is this happening to me?" so many times before I'm going to tell her. It's not "them", it's you, it's YOU!
But what do you do when a friend falls down? Do you pick them up, dust them off, set them on their feet again? Is that my responsibility, even though she throws banana peels in front of herself on a daily basis?
The months went by, following the same pattern. K was always at ex's place because he lived with L. Every night, without exception, there would be some awful incident. One day, she ran out of their bedroom stark naked, screaming that he had hit her. I didn't doubt it. I pleaded with her to let me call the police, but she would always back down. She got so lovey-dovey with this abuser at one point that I couldn't even bear to look at her anymore. I was there for every teary phone call, getting physically in the middle of fist fights, the works. And I was there every...single...time she went back to him. She would coo that they were going to get married.
We went camping once, all of us together. Easily the worst weekend of my life. L got so drunk that he pinned her down in his tent, squeezing her neck until he left finger marks. She ran out into the road and I had to calm her down. We went for a walk. Before all this, I was angry, upset and feeling helpless. After this, I was beyond furious...I was into dangerous territory. When he came after us, 60 ouncer in one hand, calling her a whore, I'd had it. I smacked him one. A good one too. I was pushing him on the chest, calling him names I hadn't used since I learnt them. How dare he do those things to her and get away with it...how dare ex just shrug it all away?
When she stayed with him after that, I tried to distance myself. I couldn't take the pain of seeing someone make that mistake time and time again and come running to me for consoling. I felt like a fool. She did leave, about 6 months later, after finding someone else. I broke up with ex and moved on. I was living the high life in the city, she began to settle down in the country. Everything seemed to be going the way it should.
Of course, her next boyfriend, A, wasn't much better. He was good in the fact that he didn't beat her, not so good with the emotional bullying. She couldn't go out, couldn't phone friends, couldn't have a drink. He was a pot smoker, making hash oil out of his garage, a frequent strip club visitor. I was there for the tears, the fights, the make-ups. For the first time, I began to see the whole situation as being exacerbated by her. She was jealous, possessive, manic at times. She would kiss people in bars and then get enraged when he accused her (without knowing of course) of being "loose" and commanding her to stay at home. Her volatility scared me. She wanted to spend more time with me in the city, and I couldn't bear to have her stay for long. We would go to the clubs, she would get blind drunk within 15 minutes, and we'd have to go home. I paid for everything, because she always "forgot" her wallet. She would order a round of drinks and then look to me when the tab came. I felt taken advantage of.
I couldn't stand her lies, her exaggerations. I knew when she would lie to me, instantly. I would ask her a question, such as "so did you sleep with that guy?", and she would look and me for a beat, and then say "Oh no, no I didn't". I hated her telling me that she was on a bus when it was held up by men with knives, that she saw a woman drop a baby down the stairs, that she hit a dog on a road and took it back to it's owners, that she witnessed an accident and sat the guy in her car until help arrived. These stories simply weren't true and I felt less and less like humouring her.
Of course, there were good times, fun times. I wouldn't be her friend otherwise. But I felt things just spiraling out of control. I had a good job. She decided to spend $5000 on fake boobs and get a secretary's certificate. Any piece of advice I gave was never taken. I told her you can become a receptionist without spending $2500 on a certificate, (I was a receptionist at one point) but she decided to go further into debt. Soon, she began to hate her "married" lifestyle. She started on the anti-depressants. She fooled around more, complained constantly about being bored.
I met MB, moved into the country also, loving every minute. She nagged about how I had become "wifely" and that I was no fun anymore. She wanted to party and cut loose, and couldn't understand that I was moving past that.
She broke up with A, moved in with a colleague, cut loose. She had an affair with some guy. She and A still talked and agreed this was a break, not a break up. As soon as she "got this out of her system" (meaning, got all her going out and having fun over and done with) he would have her back, and she would be a proper stay-at-home again. She claimed she would only go back to A if he got her a dog, a claw foot tub and a makeup dresser. I was appalled at her general lack of...well, lack of everything! A claw-foot tub!? She began counting her freedom in purses. "I can go out whenever I want, come back when I want and I can have 7 purses and 3 different types of perfume" she told me smugly. "Oh, ok" I replied. "But K, you know that you can buy purses even if you are with someone?". "Oh, well, yeah, I guess" was her response, as if being attached instantly meant the end of your regular life as you know it.
She got back together with him three months ago. I guess she got her tub?
This weekend, I got a call. She and A had broken up (again). She was moved into an apartment, sharing with a 60 year old woman and her 6 grandchildren. I went to see her for moral support. She wanted to go clubbing. When I arrived she was looking awful. She had gained weight, cut off her hair, started smoking. She didn't look like the person I used to know. She told me she may be pregnant. I asked if it would be A's. She looked at me for a beat and said "yeah". I asked if she had been with someone else and she told me no. I knew she was lying. "So, you MAY be pregnant?" I asked. "Yeah, maybe" she replies. "Well, ok, before we go out tonight and have drinks, which would be bad for you, let's go and grab a test...Shopper's Drug Mart is right across the road". "Well, I'm probably not" she said defensively. Always the drama.
She introduced me to her new friends and told me that I was "upper class", which she used as a derogatory term. Hey, I went through hell to get where I am now...where do you get off telling me I am upper class? She told me she was staying at this awful place because there is room for her furniture there. I told her to put it in storage. "Yeah, but there's no heated storage around here". "Why do you need heated storage for furniture?" I ask. "Otherwise it will get damp" she says. "Why?" I replied, "It's only damp if there's no roof. Can you find a storage place with a roof?" (ok, I'm being sarcastic now).
She can't afford to live on her own, so she buys a $750 puppy. She can't afford to live on her own, so she buys a new car. She has fake boob debt and she's talking about taking a month off work.
Goddamnit I want to help the girl, but I can't keep doing this...I can't be witness to her constant inability to care for herself. Never have I met someone who takes less responsibility for her actions. She is so self-destructive that I can only listen to "Why is this happening to me?" so many times before I'm going to tell her. It's not "them", it's you, it's YOU!
But what do you do when a friend falls down? Do you pick them up, dust them off, set them on their feet again? Is that my responsibility, even though she throws banana peels in front of herself on a daily basis?
posted by Jennifer @ 2:36 a.m.
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