Little did I know I was living below “Alex Forest” from the
infamous Fatal Attraction movie when I moved into my quaint vintage apartment.
She, like most mean girls, appears first as the sweetest, kindest
person who ever graced the planet. And she did so gracefully walk. She had
perfect posture and seemed to always know proper etiquette, especially in
conversation. Even when she held her cigarette it was like watching an old
Hollywood starlet. Something about her was intriguing, a bit mysterious and
often left me feeling uneasy. There was some sort of wall or façade I could not
clearly decipher. All I knew was to keep her on my good side. I had a sneaking suspicion
that if I ever crossed the line, there would be no return.
Yet she still seemed kind, and we had an agreement: I take
care of her cat when she was out of town, and she would let me use her
internet. (Hey, when you’re a single teacher, you’ll do what it takes.) By the
way, I hate cats.
We mainly saw each other in passing, and she would often tell
me stories of her tumultuous relationship. They eventually broke up, and we
soon became more acquainted and would often meet for dinner. (That’s what
single girls do. We hang out with other single girls hoping by chance we’ll meet
Prince Charming. Sometimes, if you’re desperate, the frog will suffice.)
Needless to say, she eventually rekindled the old flame, and she
and Mr. Tumultuous were back together. I knew very little detail about their
relationship, nor did I care.
They were a unique combo. He is a PhD student, almost by
definition an intellectual, and his idea of a good read is Cervantes or Freud;
her favorite read is People and her favorite TV show is The Real Housewives of
Everywhere.
As a friend once said, she is “tits on a stick.” And trust me,
they were all you saw. And she reveled in the attention, and especially in
other women’s jealousy. “My dad bought these for me for my birthday!” she would
chirp.
She would often give me dating nuggets, too, like: “You should
always date a guy uglier than you, to keep him around, of course.”
I was nothing like her, but I wanted to remain in her good
graces regardless. After all, I did get free internet.
One day, she suggested introducing me to her boyfriend’s best
friend. Meeting at a local Italian restaurant, our conversation was great. This
guy was intelligent, successful and obviously, genuine.
We two couples hung out three or four times… until it hit the
fan.
Picture
this: two couples laughing together in the warm night air, enjoying an after
dinner treat at the cute local yogurt shop. It seemed so tranquil; however,
there was tension in the air. I had arrived late to dinner, and my poor date
told me that their argument had been so vociferous that he had to yell and threaten
to walk out before they would stop. So we spent the next hour and a half doing
all we could striving to keep the peace. What better than a sweet treat to
lighten the mood?
Things
were fine until disaster struck. We’d been chatting for a few minutes when I
made a vague reference to something her boyfriend posted on Facebook. To be
clear, I was making fun of him—he posts dumb things on Facebook all the time.
Funny things, but dumb. She immediately jerked her head around, glared at me
with rage and snapped, “You’re friends on Facebook? Who requested who?!”
I was stunned and knew I was in trouble. Timidly, I replied,
“I requested him.” She leapt up and stormed away, screaming expletives throughout
the calm quiet neighborhood. I was incredulous. Remember, I’m sitting there
with my date, his friend, who SHE set me up with and whom she knew I liked a
lot.
Her boyfriend followed her to her car and kneeled behind the
open driver’s door, trying desperately to calm her down. I forgot to mention,
he had been sent to the emergency room in an ambulance literally the night
before, for a latent heart condition, and had been instructed to do all in his
power to minimize stress. The last thing he needed was to calm down crazy.
Suddenly, car door still open, she threw the car into reverse
and stepped on the gas, nearly knocking him to the ground. He jumped out of the
way with inches to spare as she sped away into the night.
And that’s how I learned they weren’t Facebook friends.
______________________________________________
I later came to find out that she thought I was trying to
seduce him via Facebook. She thought I added him as a friend not because he’d
introduced me to a great guy, but because I wanted him, and that Facebook was
my in. Seriously. She actually thought this.
The next evening, while on my date with my new guy, she called
to tell me how disrespectful it was to Facebook her boyfriend. “You and [your
man] can hang out with one another, and I will hang out with [my man]… but we
will never hang out again“ she said, voice dripping with venom. I was sad, and
hurt, but mostly confused. What had I done wrong?
A couple
days later, her boyfriend broke it off once again – this time, thankfully, for
good. A week later, I went to log on to my internet, and couldn’t. Turns out the
network name had been changed. It now read: “Not Yours.”
______________________________________________
This experience reinforced several lessons. No matter how
shiny the veneer, what’s beneath the surface can be ugly. Insecurity uninhibited
fuels jealousy, and anger, and irrationality, and rage. True friends are hard
to come by. Mean girls suck.
But in the end, the simplest lessons are the best of all: sometimes
in life, things just don’t make sense.
Or, as that poetic sage Kanye West once said so eloquently:
That shit cray.
