Perhaps it’s age, but my tolerance is down a quart.
I’m doing what could be called, summer cleaning of the selfish in my life….into the bag they go with the rest of the trash.
Yes, I’m being cryptic…and I’ll admit, part of the problem is me.
Once I decide to be your friend, you could have heads buried in your backyard and I’d still remember your birthday and invite you over for tea. Even if that meant pouring you a cup in the state penitentiary.
I’m unconditional Susannah…a trait I’m actually proud of that lately has been waning.
I recently had a fatal falling out with my friend from the funeral parlor…it was coming like a slow train with me finally realizing, I’ve just had enough.
My part was needing her equipment so to speak. She was handy…faxing…scanning Monday through Friday. I’m being honest. Every time she pissed me off I’d tell myself, yeah but she’s so good with those machines.
Doesn’t say much for me, but no one’s perfect.
A month or so ago she invited me to lunch, a nice thing, until when I told her it was hard for me to hear at the restaurant she wanted to go to she said, “But I want their crab cakes.”
I agreed to go but my irritation at her lack of consideration was fierce. When we got there the waiting list was two hours so, to my joy, we left. We ended up at another place quieter and actually nicer that also served crab cakes, so my fuse about to blow, simmered.
Before that we had Christmas. I borrowed money from my pal Hank to get her a nice gift…a silver pin I truly thought she’d like. She is never without one on the lapel of her black Brooks Brothers suit she wears as a uniform…
she has never worn my gift.
I’ve asked her, “Hey Millie…how bout the cat I gave you for Christmas?”
“Oh that….I’ll wear it…I’ll call ya on that day so you can come see.” There’s a passive meanness going on here I can’t quite decipher. It happens with other things, like how long she makes me wait when I offer to do something for her. I try to act in kind for the faxing, but feel taken advantage of as she talks on the phone while I wait.
When you’re as well-mannered as I am, it’s hard to adjust to someone’s blatant rudeness that can be downright disorienting.
You’re thinking, big deal…but these are only a few examples. The straw that broke the corpse’s back as it were, is an incident I can’t really write about. But trust me when I tell you, she’s lucky I didn’t smack her clear back to the Bronx where she lives.
Without saying why, she saw me in a state of upset you don’t normally see me in. Two men I hardly know were more concerned for my well-being that she was. Not even an e-mail let alone a call to see if I was okay. Then she prevented something from happening that meant the world to me.
I’m a good friend. I am…you never need to ask me to suit up when you’re hurting. I realize not everyone has the capacity for kindness, but frankly, I’m not buying that anymore.
You know someone for twenty-five years and they still don’t show up, into the Good Will bag they go.
I want loving, caring people around me. Not the selfish who phone it in only on their time table.
And fuck their faxing skills.
To be truthful, it will feel good going to Kinkos for my future cyber needs. I’ll have to pay of course, but will feel better being more honest which comes with a price.
A free print-out isn’t a good enough reason to be friends with someone who doesn’t really care all that much about you.
You’re better off with a bill.