Monday, July 09, 2007
Friends....Part X
It feels like I blog about friends and friendships frequently. Well, here's more. A friend from high school has been having a crisis lately. Even though we're not as close as we were years ago, I've been trying to help. Her troubles are (at the surface) relationship-based, but the real issue is her feeling of self-worth. She stayed with me for a while and I figured we'd talk about her concerns. Nope, not what she wanted. OK, fine with me.
I love her dearly, but I don't think she's progressed past the age of 18. She smokes like a freight train. Being sensitive to her "crisis state", I let her smoke in my car. Big mistake. Next time, I'll spend 5 hours driving 150 miles and us stopping every 15 for a Marlboro. Better yet, we'll take her car which is a large silver ashtray. Every conversation we had was interrupted by a smoke break, save for one...the nail discussion. She "needed" to put on a set of fake nails. So she decided that my dining room would be a good spot. (For the uninitiated, my dining room has a cherry floor you can see yourself in....it's one of the things I love the most in the house The Boy and I built, which I consider to be my "dream house".) I spent an hour watching nail dust and plastic nail tips fly through the room, trying to watch for any errant drop of chemical crap that I'd need to catch bare-handed to protect my floor. When she was finished, it dawned on her what a mess she'd made. "I'm sorry" she said "I didn't mean to make such a mess". No dear, you never do.
I got it picked up, but her apology rang hollow. Lee Press On Nails make *some* kind of mess....did she really think the "fresh from the beauty supply company" kit would make less of one? No. I'm afraid the simple answer is that she just didn't think. Had she thought, she would have stayed in the kitchen. Or waited to put them on some other time. Or.....something. Common theme, as it turns out.
After I took her home (more ashes in my backseat, 3 smokes in 20 miles/18 min and yes, I WAS petty enough to time it once) she called 3 times. Not three tries or three rings. Three distinct her-calling-and-when-I-could-I-called-back. Each one of those involved at least two calls. Twice, I was driving in pouring rain (with film on my front windshield.....wonder from what?) and didn't answer the phone. Once was after I'd called her to assure her that I was home OK. Silly me decides to call The Boy (who I literally hadn't seen all weekend). I get off the phone with him so I can answer the 2 calls to my home phone and one to my cell. Obviously, this was an urgent matter we hadn't had a chance to discuss 3 minutes earlier. Nah, she calls to tell me something about the brother of a roommate of hers from college. I've never met the man. I really don't care for his sister. I tolerate her bigotry, racism and hate to be polite to my friend. "Don't you think that's awful?" she asks (of the brother's situation). My first thought was 'I ended the only snippet of conversation I've had with my spouse for 3 days for THAT?' My second was a Ron White quote....I definitely had that "3rd generation don't give a f*ck" kind of feeling.
I swear......the Hurricane is 18 years old. Eighteen. In a 30-something body. As much direction, focus and awareness of the world around her as she had 18 years ago. And not one iota more....
sigh
I love her dearly, but I don't think she's progressed past the age of 18. She smokes like a freight train. Being sensitive to her "crisis state", I let her smoke in my car. Big mistake. Next time, I'll spend 5 hours driving 150 miles and us stopping every 15 for a Marlboro. Better yet, we'll take her car which is a large silver ashtray. Every conversation we had was interrupted by a smoke break, save for one...the nail discussion. She "needed" to put on a set of fake nails. So she decided that my dining room would be a good spot. (For the uninitiated, my dining room has a cherry floor you can see yourself in....it's one of the things I love the most in the house The Boy and I built, which I consider to be my "dream house".) I spent an hour watching nail dust and plastic nail tips fly through the room, trying to watch for any errant drop of chemical crap that I'd need to catch bare-handed to protect my floor. When she was finished, it dawned on her what a mess she'd made. "I'm sorry" she said "I didn't mean to make such a mess". No dear, you never do.
I got it picked up, but her apology rang hollow. Lee Press On Nails make *some* kind of mess....did she really think the "fresh from the beauty supply company" kit would make less of one? No. I'm afraid the simple answer is that she just didn't think. Had she thought, she would have stayed in the kitchen. Or waited to put them on some other time. Or.....something. Common theme, as it turns out.
After I took her home (more ashes in my backseat, 3 smokes in 20 miles/18 min and yes, I WAS petty enough to time it once) she called 3 times. Not three tries or three rings. Three distinct her-calling-and-when-I-could-I-called-back. Each one of those involved at least two calls. Twice, I was driving in pouring rain (with film on my front windshield.....wonder from what?) and didn't answer the phone. Once was after I'd called her to assure her that I was home OK. Silly me decides to call The Boy (who I literally hadn't seen all weekend). I get off the phone with him so I can answer the 2 calls to my home phone and one to my cell. Obviously, this was an urgent matter we hadn't had a chance to discuss 3 minutes earlier. Nah, she calls to tell me something about the brother of a roommate of hers from college. I've never met the man. I really don't care for his sister. I tolerate her bigotry, racism and hate to be polite to my friend. "Don't you think that's awful?" she asks (of the brother's situation). My first thought was 'I ended the only snippet of conversation I've had with my spouse for 3 days for THAT?' My second was a Ron White quote....I definitely had that "3rd generation don't give a f*ck" kind of feeling.
I swear......the Hurricane is 18 years old. Eighteen. In a 30-something body. As much direction, focus and awareness of the world around her as she had 18 years ago. And not one iota more....
sigh
