The Edge (of 17) has this friend whom she celebrates on her MySpace as "the friend who, if I was in jail, would be sitting in the cell next to me."
Charming, ain't it?
When things are good, they are the best of buds. But when things are not. . .
Their tumultuous relationship began in middle school, and has survived other best-friends, boyfriends, dances, family outings, multiple groundings and numerous instances of proclaiming "I know I've said it before, but this is really it!"
According to the Edge, the latest fall-out involves excruciating self-centeredness on the part of said offending friend. I listened to her familiar rant, read the scathing letter she had written to her friend, and watched as she gathered what seemed like an entire wardrobe of her friend's clothing (which explains where all the clothes I bought must be!) I hugged her, and then told her something she didn't really want to hear:
"I can see by this letter that you're really hurt, and you've made your point, but it will most likely continue to fall on deaf ears. She is who she is. In fact, she hasn't changed a great deal since middle school. The problem here is not her, dear. . .YOU are the one who continues to put up with it!"
She gave me that, "whachewtalkinboutwillis?" look.
"How many times have we had this conversation over the last five years, Baby? Do you think that I would remain friends with an adult woman who was jealous of the time I spent with my husband? Who griped at me if I ran into another friend at the mall and invited them to join us? Who demanded to know where I was every second of the day? She treats you and your other friends this way because YOU allow her to."
"You're right, Mom." She grabbed a pen and paper and started writing again. Then she handed it to me for approval. "Here, how about this?"
Her girlie handwriting is even more difficult to decipher when it's hasty.
"You are a witch. You have always been a witch and you will always be a witch! I don't want to be your friend anymore. It's not you, though, it's me."
Sigh. Not necessarily what I had in mind, dear.
I give it two weeks, three at the most.
1 week ago