4 posts tagged “bitches”

It had to happen some day. 

We live on the same island.  Our homes are on the same street.  We still have friends in common.  I introduced them to the good bars and restaurants.  They introduced me to .... something I'm sure.  In any event, I knew I'd run into them.

The b!tches are back.

So it happened while I was waiting for my wax appointment.  I had originally been scheduled for an appointment yesterday at 1pm, which typically isn't a busy hour since few people actually work on the beach.  What I had forgotten was that the damn boat show is in town ... and those boaters travel in droves.  And they like to arrive early.  So not only could I not get to my appointment on time because of the massive tourist traffic congestion, despite being only a 10-minute drive from the salon, but I couldn't find a parking spot since the convention center is behind the store and they had all parking lots reserved.  The salon was nice enough to understand my predicament, so I rescheduled for today after work.  And I figured I'd walk.

I arrive in plenty of time for my appointment.  I'm sitting in the waiting area, since they of course are running late.   I'm minding my own business, reading the latest GQ magazine, when the door to the back area opens.  I'm expecting one of the girls to come out and call my name, but instead b!tch #1 appears.  (For those of you who remember, she's the one who wears the pants in their non-lesbian exclusive non-sexual relationship.)  She comes out, we make eye contact, but it takes a few minutes for the reality to register.

Now, the last time I saw her was my birthday dinner.  I didn't even want to celebrate my birthday with her, but I essentially was forced into it.  I did it ultimately to keep the peace with our common friends.  It's been nearly 3 months since we've seen each other or spoken.

I'm immediately irritated by her presence.  She starts with the small talk.  I really can't be bothered because I have nothing to say to her, so I give one word answers.  And I ask no questions because I don't care.  Fortunately the entire awkward exchange took no more than 3 minutes, and then she was gone. 

Whew.  Our first inevitable run-in was over.

And then the second-guessing began...  What was she going to report to b!tch #2?  (For those of you who need a refresher, she's the one who desperately believed that she was independent from b!tch #1 but pathetically couldn't make a single decision or take any action without her.)  Would she tell her non-lesbian non-lover that I was rude?  That I had cut my hair?  That she was surprised and uncomfortable by our non-conversation?  Would she even bother to report the run-in?

Why the f*** do I care?

I don't know.  But it has inspired a new Letter To The B!tches. 

More to come ...

I wish I could take credit for what I'm about to write, but I am not nearly clever enough to come up with this perfect one liner.  An old friend from college used the line on an ex when they broke up, and I find it particularly appropriate right now.

I'm going to change some names to protect the very very guilty bitches innocent and give it some fancy accoutrements.

"Dear Crapface and Judas,

This year, I hope that Santa Claus Hanukkah Harry brings you that much-needed lay backbone you've been looking for, because you most definitely need it, you frigid b!tches.

Herpes to you and yours All the best,

Me"

What do you think?

Why does it sometimes take us so long to learn the lessons we need to learn?  We see the facts, we know the truth, we read the people as they are (despite what their mouths say).  So why does it sometimes take us an extra day/week/month/minute to fully realize the lesson?

Nobody ever talks about how to do this...  Nobody ever says to you when you're a kid, "Listen here, Little Susie - when you decide that the little b!tch Bonnie down the street is no longer worth your time, you can un-friend her by [fill in the appropriate steps here]."  Nobody hands you a manual with the title, "101 Ways to Un-Friend the Whore You Know" when you graduate high school and 'become an adult.'  

Why not?

I know that I'm not the first person to go through this process, and I know that someone out there must have some general rules for un-friending people (or de-friending, or however it should be phrased).  Where are you people?  I need your genius help!

There are interesting complexities to the process when you start to take into account common friend availability, living space proximity, and of course favorite bar locality.  There will be, no doubt, uncomfortable instances of accidental meetings, anonymous passings, and (im-?)polite declinings.  What I would like to avoid is the unnecessary, hypocritical, and generally frustrating discussion that accompanies the "Why aren't we friends anymore" question. 

Knowing me as well I do, I'd probably say something like:  "Are you SERIOUSLY asking me that, Stupid?!?"

In general, that's not a very productive response.

On second thought, maybe it would be productive.  Chances are that the person on the receiving end wouldn't like being called Stupid (even though she is), and no conversation that occurs after a question ending in laughter and the word "Stupid" could ever heal a relationship.  So maybe I would finally get the solution I've been seeking -- namely the ending of a way-past-dead "friendship" that never was, or would ever be, a Friendship.

Wrong way to end it?  Probably.  Intellectually I can admit that there must be a more adult-like method for un-friending, but right now I have no interest in being adult about this problem.

Oh, the dilemma.