Friend goes bad, when things get ugly

Despite the fact that my friend said she was happy I was dating her ex-husband (the one she left for a women, the one she asked me to hang out with), I learned she really, really is not.

Unfortunately I learned the hard way, when she texted one morning to let me know that she had been driving past his house and sees my car there.
She actually was angry because, she knew “you are sleeping with him” and that I should have told her. Then she followed it up by saying sex she had with him was awful, so he deserved good sex with me (I’m roughly paraphrasing).

First, I felt afraid. It is very weird to know that someone has been watching your movements for months and you never realized.

Second, we are not close enough friends that she has ANY idea about the quality of my sex life, it’s just not a topic we talk about. And I don’t want to think about her sex life with him EVER.

Third, if you are really okay with something. Freaking out over text message is not how I would convey that.

In the end, I’m sorry our friendship ended as it did – despite my response, which a number of my friends called far to kind, I’ve not heard back from her. I have lost a friend, but gained something even better. So I guess I have a positive gain, but it’s still an icky way to go.

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Beware of Life Lurking in the Back Alley

I’m not the biggest fan of how life behaves sometimes.

When it acts like a thug in an alleyway instead of a supportive friend that you want to share a glass of wine with.

A couple of Friday nights ago, life caught up to me.

I was sitting at the local bar, one of two in the town I live in, which is one of many issues about living here, and having a drink with my friend.

Admittedly I was bored to death and didn’t really want to be there, but it was okay.

Then then someone decided to play the song Chicken Fried by the Zac Brown Band, the only song I cannot listen to because it reminds me of that man who broke my heart.

Out of nowhere life crept up behind me and cracked me across my head like two-by-four, hard enough to shake something loose.

I started to panic, as everything caught up to me. How much I missed my ex, the hatred of my current living location, the frustration with my social situation and the irritation with my friend instantly bubbled to the surface.

I was about one second away from an exceptionally public break down.

I mumbled an apology at my friend, gathered my phone and jacket and was half a block away from the bar before I even really realized I’d left. Then I realized it was snowing and walking down the main highway was likely not the safest option.

At the next restaurant I called a cab and made it the rest of the way home to have my complete breakdown in peace.

It launched a week of what I believe is the closest I have ever come to true depression.

However, I think life feels guilty now, or at least the deity that was getting a laugh at my expense does, because the fog has finally lifted and life is returning back to my friend, instead of that back-alley thug.

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