By Lucinda Rosenfeld
Welcome to "Friend or Foe," a regular DoubleX advice column for your queries about the trickiest of all love affairs: friendships. Lucinda Rosenfeld, author of I'm So Happy For You, a novel about best friends, is now taking questions at lucinda@imsohappyforyou.com.
Dear Friend or Foe,
A couple of weeks ago, my two closest friends and I went to a small live-music venue to hear a band. While at the concert, someone “slipped me a mickey.” I remember nothing about the rest of the evening, but I was told that the police officer found me lying alone on the sidewalk. I came-to in the hospital E.R.—alone. The entire experience was frightening.
Since then, I’ve tried to piece together what happened. Apparently, at the end of the band's set, I left for the ladies room with my purse—and didn’t come back. My friends figured I had left, so they left, too. Later, when I called them from the street, sobbing in hysterics and asking for help, they told me to go back to the club and that they would have an ambulance pick me up there. When my mother—who lives 2,000 miles away (and hopped on a plane the next day to be with me)—later called these two friends of mine to beg them to join me while I was recovering, they refused. It wasn't until I told them that the hospital wouldn’t release me until I had someone to drive me home that they came to pick me up. They then angrily drove me to my car, and I drove home alone. By then, it was the next morning.
I have known these girls for more than 10 years, and had until now considered them my best friends. But I can't help feeling as though they’d abandoned me. If I found out one of them had been taken to the hospital, I would have dropped everything and gone to be by her side. Am I expecting too much from my best friends, both of whom are mid-twentysomething professional women?
Sincerely,
Thanks for Rescuing Me After I Was Drugged and Left for
Dead—Not!
Dear TFRMAIWDALFDN!,
Wow, that’s a tough call. A spouse or even a boyfriend? Yes, it would be his or her duty to haul ass to said hospital at 4 a.m. But your single female friends who are already, presumably tucked in their beddy-bies? I have to admit that, if I got a call like yours (or your mother’s) in the middle of the night, I’d do what I could from home, but would be hard-pressed to jump in my car until morning.
For one thing, it’s not even necessarily safe—depending on where you live and how far you live from the hospital—for a woman to head out alone at that hour. For another, presumably, by the time your mother called you were out of danger. Yes, overnights at the E.R. are the opposite of fun. So are disastrous drug trips. (I had one in my twenties, which pretty much sealed my fate as an illegal-substance ninny.) But only nuns make it out of youth without a few ambulance rides.
Here’s a little secret. BFFs are great when you’re upset about a boy/sick cat/whatnot. But there are limits to friendship—limits that don’t apply to our romantic partners or close family members. What I fault your friends for is not driving you all the way home the next morning, or at least following you there to make sure you got through the door on two feet. I also wish they’d been a less critical of what was, by your account, a freak incident. Why were they so unforgiving? I’d wager a guess that they think you’re lying about the mickey, tales of which are sometimes used as a cover for irresponsible behavior. (Only you know the truth.)
If your buddies refuse to believe your account, it might be time to reexamine the friendships.
Sincerely,
Friend or Foe
Dear Friend or Foe,
I’m a childfree woman in her mid-thirties. Technically, I’m single because I’m unmarried. But I cohabitate with my boyfriend of four years, and we just purchased a house together. I’m on Facebook a lot, as are my mom-friends. Many of them post regularly about their kids. I get updates on the big things and the little things: "Baby took her first steps today!" and "Baby discovers French fries!" and "Baby napping in her stroller." I regularly congratulate them on the milestones and leave comments about how cut their little ones are.
Here’s the problem: I feel like several of my mom-friends no longer make any attempt to celebrate my nonbaby milestones, such as my birthday, a new job, or the purchase of my first house. They can see on Facebook that these events have happened, and that my other friends are congratulating me. I can also see that they are posting comments on their other mom-friends’ pages. I’m only talking about certain mom-friends—others still make an effort to keep up with my life—but the slight still hurts.
I understand that motherhood brings on a host of new responsibilities and concerns that I can't begin to fathom. What I don't understand is why these mom-friends don't see how they’re excluding me. Should I continue to enthusiastically respond to their mass baby-picture e-mails? Or should I just assume that these friendships are over and move-on?
Sincerely,
Believe It Or Not, I Have a Life Too
Dear BIONIHALT,
Maybe it’s because those early months are so exhausting as to breed delirium (and forgetfulness). Or maybe it’s how [Insert Deity of Your Choice] gets us to keep reproducing the species. In any case—and in partial defense of your boring and negligent mom-friends—there is a way in which the first months of reproduction turn new mothers (and, to some extent, fathers too) into paragons of narcissism and myopia. Hard to believe for the unfettered, but those mommy pals of yours really do think the world will be interested to learn that Finn/Ella had three bowel movements in one day/lifted a utensil and transferred it to his/her other hand.
As someone who also got “mortgaged” to my now-husband years before actual marriage or children (and was so proud of the fact that I made a wedding-style album filled with page-after-page of walls), I fully sympathize with your irritation at others who seem to see right through your big news.
I suggest having some fun with the Facebook venue. What about posting a picture of the inside of your new sofa/fence/refrigerator, and captioning it with something like “Fridgey, age 3 months, tries her first can of Heineken,” perhaps? OK, that was stupid. But you get the idea. Eventually, maybe, the Self-Involved-Mom Brigade will get the hint. Let’s hope that, by then, the worst offenders might also have come out of their baby-centric stupor.
Sincerely,
Friend or Foe
Dear Friend of Foe,
I dated a guy for about five months last year. We were at the "I love you" stage, but in December he IM-ed me to say that his feelings had changed and he just didn't know why—but that he still wanted to be friends. I was devastated. After a week of no contact, I went to his place to talk. He didn’t want to commit to seeing me exclusively, but I didn’t want to let him go. So we decided to try dating casually.
Fast-forward six weeks: He’d met someone online who lived in London (we live in Texas), and explained that he had to go explore this relationship because of a wonderful connection he felt after a couple of phone conversations. He also told me his feelings for me were totally gone and we were done. This time, I accepted what I was hearing—and told him that I might not be able to be buddies.
After another six weeks of no contact, we started hanging out as friends. This time he flirted with me and told me he wanted to be "friends with benefits," even though he’s still planning to fly to London to see if this other person is "the one." He also told me it was very self-centered of me just to walk away because, if I had really fought for him we might still be together.
I still have feelings for him but I’m trying to push them down and keep a friendship going, as we seem to click on so many levels. Based on this back-story, is that even possible. Or can too many dating ups and downs ruin it forever?
Sincerely,
Bruised and Confused
Dear BAC,
Jeez Louise! What does it take for you to get the message and flee? Or, really, more to the point, why would you possibly want to be “friends” with this hurtful jerk? You say you “click on so many levels,” but the only level I’m hearing is the one where you’re crouching on the ground and he’s standing up, kicking you in the head. Seriously. It’s one thing to have a steamy sex affair with a guy who can’t wait to ravish you but isn’t even remotely interested in accompanying you to the altar. (Fine.) But this guy can’t even commit to getting in bed with you!
That he’s come back now, telling you that you could have had him, suggests to me only that he’s looking to kill time before his London rendezvous. As for “friends with benefits”—sorry—but there is no such thing. You’re either friends. Or you have sex. Case closed.
Some advice for the future: Please treat yourself as a prize because I bet you are one!
Sincerely,
Friend or Foe
Lucinda
Rosenfeld is the author of
I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU: A Novel About Best
Friends.
