Fair-Weathered Friend

Dear former best friend,

Go screw yourself.

I've been nice long enough. I've apologized countless times for something I don't even think I need to apologize for. I apologized, because our friendship was more important than my ego. I apologized, because I wanted you back in my life, and I thought that was the way to do it. It's been three years. I'm no longer sorry. I'm not sorry for what happened three years ago. I'm not sorry for what I said. Because I meant it. And I still do. I'd say it again. I'll add this to it: you're a loser. We were friends in middle school. Good friends. And that lasted into high school. We were best friends for a while. Doing everything together. Going everywhere together. And then something better came along. It was years before we spoke again, and that was the way I wanted it. I was wounded. I was hurt. I was replaced. You fooled me once. Shame on you.

And then, some time about seven or eight years ago, we got back in touch with each other. We picked back up right where we left off. It was as if no time had passed at all. I had missed you. God, how I'd missed you. The past no longer mattered. I didn't care what you'd done to me in high school (I no longer remember what that was). We were adults now. It was behind us. I was ready to be best friends again, and I loved every minute of it. I asked you to be in my wedding, and you cried when you accepted. During the whole planning process, you had my back, made sure my horrific maid of honor had my best intentions at heart (it should have been you). You kept me informed, but shielded me from the really obnoxious stuff, so as not to stress me out more. You took me and my then-fiance out to dinner to celebrate. We took you out to dinner for your birthday (it was over $200. You're welcome). You moved away after the wedding. Only a couple hours drive, but far enough. I came to see you once or twice, and we had a great time seeing the city and exploring new things.

When my marriage fell apart, you were also there. I confided every single detail to you. I told you things I didn't want anyone to know. I told you how scared I was. I told you how embarrassed I was that it had only lasted a year. I cried to you as I told you how badly I felt for every single person who invested time and money into it. All the people who traveled far and wide to be there for me. The bridal party, who spent hundreds of dollars to be in it. I told you all my deepest, darkest secrets about my marriage, and about....Ben. You saw me falling for him before anyone else did. And you encouraged me to go for it. To explore it. You told me I was coming into my own. That I was no longer the person I was when I had gotten married. That I had changed. But, not in a bad way. I no longer wanted what I had wanted a year ago, and you told me that was okay. I had changed my mind, and there was nothing wrong with that.

You spent the night at my house during the end of my marriage. It was the first sleepover I'd had since high school, and it was fun. You never judged me. You never got angry with me (okay, maybe that one time). You never tried to steer me in the wrong direction. You were exactly what I needed during the most difficult time in my life.

And now what? Now, you tell me that I used you as a scapegoat in my divorce. Now you tell me that I made you feel like crap in your own home (because you lived off of unemployment and your boyfriend's student loans for a year while sitting around getting high all day without even bothering to look for a job). You tell me that I hurt you so badly, and that it's "black and white" for you, and that if I don't see that then we can't be friends. Look, I knew things were strained since my last trip out to see you (the one where you got high all weekend). I apologized to you that night. I apologized to you via text when I got home. I apologized via Facebook messenger a couple weeks later. And sometime last year, I wrote you a two-page letter apologizing again, explaining to you where my head was at the time and admitting the error of my ways. I wanted you back in my life. And since that last visit, we had talked a little. We had seen each other once or twice. I knew it wouldn't be the same, but I thought we were at least okay. Up until five months ago, you were still tagging me on Facebook.

So, when you got engaged last week, I excitedly sent you a text message congratulating you. I told you I was happy for you, and that I was sad that I wouldn't be able to be there for you in the same way you were there for me during my wedding. I said I was sorry that we'd drifted apart and I was glad knowing that the person who used to be my best friend was in the most loving and capable hands possible. And I meant all of that.

And then you wrote back telling me that you've been harboring these ridiculous feelings for the last three or four years. I call bullshit. Here's what really happened. You encouraged me to cheat on my husband, and then felt bad about it when I did (not your fault. Completely my choice). You moved to a cushy city with your important cousin (sorry, boyfriend) and lived off the government for several years while doing so (but, welfare was COMPLETELY out of the question, and "highly offensive" to even be suggested). Because of the fact that you didn't bother to work (and why did you need to, when everything was free?), you were "bored," so you decided getting high all day every day was the only way to cure that. You knew prior to me coming to see you how I felt about it. We had talked AD NAUSEUM about how much it bothered me when anyone did it. But, you didn't give a shit about that when I got there (sorry I ruined your "fun"). When your cousin/boyfriend got a nice new cushy job in a different city, you followed him there, too. Except, now he's even more important. Which, by association, means you are too. Congratulations. So now, I'm not good enough for you. I'm too low on the social ladder for you. I don't get to work with the president. I don't get to take you on tours of the White House, or have my name in lights. I can't do anything for you. I can't advance your life or improve your life in any way, so you needed some excuse, any excuse to get rid of me. To shed the dead weight. Good riddance.

Even during the brief time we were friends, I knew you were insane, but I loved you anyway. You added fun, and joy, and excitement to my life. You made me laugh. You encouraged me when I felt like shit. You stood by me when I made horrible decisions. And every other day, you were pissed at someone else. You were either fighting with MF, or a family member. There was always someone you weren't speaking to on any given day. And, like you, I stood by you through every single one of those ridiculous fights. I listened to you vent about how you were done wrong. I told you you were right and you didn't need that person in your life, the whole time thinking, wow, this is totally her fault. But, I never told you that, because you needed me at that time and I was going to be there for you no matter what. You're welcome.

Look, I don't regret being friends with you. I got to experience some things I wouldn't have otherwise. I got some really awesome years, and some really nice memories out of it. But, don't for a second expect another apology, or for any acknowledgement that I had any wrong doing this time. I did everything I was supposed to. I may have cut you out for a time, while I cleaned up the pieces of my terrifyingly broken life, but I never stopped being your friend. You're the one who stopped. You fooled me twice. Shame on me.

I genuinely don't care if you have a nice life. I don't care where you end up. I don't care if you ever get off your lazy ass, or if you let your boyfriend/cousin support you for the rest of your lazy life. I don't care. Because I tried caring. I tried being the best person I could be to you, and it didn't matter. Knowing all that you know, you still chose to believe what you wanted about me. You still chose to believe the worst about me, even though you knew me more intimately than anyone else ever had. You knew all of my thoughts, all of my motivations, my frustrations, my fears, my dreams. You knew where every tear came from, and how to get every smile. And you can still look back on all of that and think that badly of me. You don't get to judge me.

Is this petty? Probably. But, I don't really care. I have no doubt in my mind you went and spread all kinds of nice stories about me. The fact that you're still friends with my ex-husband's family on Facebook (and actually interact with them) shows that you picked sides a long time ago. All you had to do was be honest. All you had to do was talk to me. It was the least you could have done for me, given the honesty I provided for you on a daily basis.

Have a whatever life. I'll hear it through the grapevine.