Dear BFF (and I hope you know just how deeply sarcastic my voice sounds when I call you that),
When we first met, I thought you were a nice person who was just down on her luck. I sympathized with you. I gave you food for your family. I treated you to a couple of shopping trips where I got you things like headbands and junk jewelry, and took you out to eat, and took you to movies with me. I thought you were a friend.
And then you and your husband split up, and you started dating someone else. I’ll confess I was more than a little shocked at how quickly you moved in with him despite all the blather you were spouting off about how you were going to protect your child from getting attached to men who turn out to be dick-heads. But okay, whatever, you were my friend, and when you got engaged and asked me to be your matron of honour, I was, well, honoured. And I worked really hard trying to help you plan your wedding.
Then I had to have surgery, and I was off work for three months. And you didn’t call me. You didn’t e-mail me. You didn’t visit except I think once when you happened to be in the neighbourhood, and then your fiance sat in the car with the engine running. So obviously I was very unimportant in the scheme of things. I was pissed off, I’ll admit it. But when I came back to work you were full of excuses as to why you hadn’t bothered to contact me, and I decided to believe them as much as I could, even though I thought you were full of shit. Which, by the way, you were.
And I hosted a bridal shower for you. And got you gifts. And you never wrote me a thank-you note.
And I hosted another bridal shower for you at work. And you never wrote me a thank-you note.
And I hosted your bachelorette party, to which you were more than an hour late. And you never wrote me a thank-you note.
And I bought a dress that had to be special ordered, and when it arrived it didn’t fit me. I asked you repeatedly what you wanted me to do–did you want me to just buy another dress knowing it wouldn’t be the same colours? Did you want me to drop out of your wedding party? And you ignored me. Fortunately I lucked out and managed to swap it for another dress they had in the shop that was really close to the correct colour, just a shade or two darker. And all was sort of well.
And my husband and I took time off work, and we drove out to your destination wedding. And you pretty much ignored me most of the time. And when I was asked about giving the speech at the wedding supper, you informed the person who asked that your “best friend” was going to give the speech. And that really pissed me off. Not because I necessarily wanted to give a speech–although I’ll tell you here and now that I’d have given a helluva better one than your “best friend”–but because you should have asked your “best friend” to be your maid of honour and left me out of the whole damned thing altogether.
When my husband and I got married, I had a friend who kindly made my wedding dress for me; I took one day off work; we eloped and went to a justice of the peace; and we spent our wedding night in a hotel that was offering a romantic special. I basically spent $250 on my wedding.
I spent about $350 on your first bridal shower; another $70 on your second bridal shower; about $200 on your bachelorette party; about $250 for my dress plus another $100 in alterations; $200 or so in gifts, including a nice chunk of cash we gave for the actual wedding gift, which, yes, you guessed it, you never sent me an effing thank-you note; and when you count in the gasoline, wear and tear on our car, 3 nights in a hotel room; I probably dropped about $2000 or more on your wedding.
Then we got back to work and by then you had quit talking to me unless you needed something. And that was fine with me, because I was done with your bull. You’re always moaning and complaining about all the drama in your life. And when there isn’t any drama, you create it. And you use people until they realize how much they’re being used, and when they decide to quit being your tool, you dump them.
I know you don’t read my blog, and I don’t care if you do read this. I just want to get you out of my life, and I think by writing this out, it may help get some of my anger out in a relatively safe fashion. I know you pretty well, and on the very slim chance you are reading this, you’ll decide I’m totally full of crap and I’m a huge bitch and you’re the poor put-upon person who had to put up with such a back-stabbing two-faced evil hag. And if that’s what you think about me, well, bless you. I’m leaving your name out of this for a reason. But my real friends know exactly who I’m talking about.