By Lucinda Rosenfeld
From Double X
Dear Friend or Foe,
Greta and I have been extremely close friends for almost a decade. We met when we were in our late teens and clicked instantly. It was friendship love at first drunken 1 a.m. excursion to the make-up aisle at CVS. We were quickly calling each other our "best friends." We still refer to each other as such, but the BFF title is starting to seem vestigial. We’re both extremely busy and bad at sending e-mails that go on longer than two sentences. Since she moved to another city two years ago, we’ve kept in sporadic—if intimate—touch.
When Greta called me a few weeks ago to tell me she was planning on returning to Miami, where I still live, I was delighted. We made dinner plans for a Saturday night. Since then, she didn't respond to a couple of messages that I left her. Today, a couple of days before our planned dinner date, I was CC’d on an e-mail she sent to eight people telling them she'd be in town and asking us all to meet her at a restaurant where she will be holding court on Saturday night.
I'm of two minds about this—I know she's in town for such a short period of time and this might be her only chance to see all of her friends. But I can't believe she never checked in with me about this change of plans. Should I go to this dinner (which, I'll admit, will probably be fun) or send my regrets and simper elsewhere?
Sincerely,
Greta and Me—Plus Eight I Don’t Want to See
Dear GAMPEIDWTS,
Suck it up and go to dinner with the gang. BFF designations are for sixth graders, and, from your description, I’m trying to believe that you’ve already graduated to seventh (though who doesn’t love a soused visit to the Max Factor display?). Should Greta have been more honest about the nature of the dinner? Maybe. But unless there’s a history of her acting as if each and every one of her pals is her very best in the world—until she sees the next one across the room and abandons you mid air-kiss—you have no business throwing a snit.
If, post-dinner, you still crave a tete-a-tete, invite Greta out for coffee. Though I suspect the problem is not that you long to speak with her alone, but that you like the idea of her longing to see you in similar, attention-monopolizing isolation. If the latter is true, may I suggest ordering the “Because You’re Special Gourmet Food Gift Basket”? That or get a dog.
Sincerely,
Friend or Foe
Dear Friend or Foe,
A couple of weeks ago I had my semi-annual phone conversation with a college friend who lives across the country. We do not keep in touch by e-mail, so there's a big data dump every time we talk. My friend had just found out that she has gone into menopause prematurely and would not be able to conceive. She was very upset and just absorbing the news, and because she and the guy she is with are not married, she expressed fear that adoption would be pretty difficult.
Because I'd had had my own struggles with infertility—struggles to which she had been privy—I informed her that after a long search I'd found an egg donor and was greatly relieved to be getting closer to having children. I told her I could help her if she wanted to pursue that course, and she responded that she wouldn't because she considers it "unethical.'' I'll be forced to see her in a few weeks when she comes into town for a mutual friend's party, but I can't get passed the idea that I'll just want to throw a bowl of hummus on her head.
Sincerely,
Middle Eastern Food Hurling Inclined
Dear MEFHI,
Your friend acted like an insensitive nincompoop. Does her faux pas merit dumping? That depends on whether she makes a habit of issuing food-fight-worthy judgments from above. If she continues to inspire chick pea flinging, you might want to consider putting Miss Foot-In-Mouth Disease out to pasture. But if this was a one-time slip-up—and we all make them—wait until you see each other in person and, assuming the comment is still irking you, tell her you feel hurt.
Your lady friend is clearly going through a crap time and is probably taking it out on everyone and everything. Try to keep that in mind as you lob charges. Let her know that she’s perfectly entitled to find donor egg reproduction unethical. She’s just not perfectly entitled to share it with you, someone who is about to go down this route. Confronted with her blunder, she’ll likely be mortified. If she stutters out an apology, accept it and move on.
Sincerely,
Friend or Foe
Dear Friend or Foe,
An out-of town-friend, “Dora,” stayed with me while she was here, and I’m 99 percent sure she swiped a significant amount of my Crème de la Mer. Should I say something? I paid 130 frigging bucks for an ounce of the stuff!! Plus, Dora is beautiful, wrinkle-free, and rich—and I’m so not any of the above.
Sincerely,
Cranky About Cream
Dear CAC,
Moisturizer thieves are almost as bad as house guests who pour out the last glass of Tropicana before you’ve even risen for breakfast. On the 1 percent chance that the dog ate it, I’d let it go. Just make sure that the next time Winona ... er, Dora is in town, she doesn’t stay with you. Also, if she’s Miss Richie Rich, why isn’t she staying in a hotel? And speaking of wealth management, you imply that you’re far from loaded yourself. Why, then, are you throwing your hard-won cash at sea kelp? Do you have any scientific evidence that the application of said stuff to your cheeks and forehead is any more or less effective in warding off the ravages of time than, say, bird droppings? I know Kate Moss swears by Crème de la Mer. But Kate Moss could have a lettuce farm growing on her face, and she’d still be drop-dead. “Friend or Foe” suggests a trip to your local drugstore, where you’ll find a wide array of crone-condemning creams for less than 20 dollars.
Sincerely,
Friend or Foe
Have a question for Friend or Foe? Please email it to lucinda@imsohappyforyou.com
Illustration by Jason Raish.
