When I dislike someone with whom I am forced to share a significant amount of airspace, I have a solid, unshakeable belief in the effectiveness of taking the high road. I try to maintain a balance between professionalism and tolerance while striving to never totter into the arena of phony niceness. But it annoys the shit out of me to have to do it. In fact, the only thing that annoys me more than having to consistently tolerate someone I dislike is when that someone goes all "Christian in the coliseum" on me like I'm the fucking emperor of Rome. Some people just don't realize what a favor I'm doing them by pretending they don't exist.
About two months ago, a chick I used to hang with (she called me her "Best Friend" and I was bushwhacked into reciprocating by merit of her uncanny ability to dissolve into tears at the first hint of...well, pretty much anything) canned an already unstable friendship by lying, sneaking around behind my back, lying about sneaking around behind my back and then having the un-fucking-believable nerve to tell me it was all my fault. I won't go into details, but in truth, she'd been fraying the rope for months with her high-maintenance, low-culpability, "I'm so slick you can't make it stick" shenanigans, including but by no means limited to, shagging my little brother within 24 hours of introductions. (His friends can't remember her name but simply refer to her as "Morally Casual Girl" as in, "Hey, me and the guys are coming down this weekend. Can you hook us up with Morally Casual Girl again?" If she only knew.)
Anyway, regardless of how I feel about her now (mainly derision underscored by repugnance, occasionally punctuated with sharp pangs of disgust), I still have to work with her. I ignore her as much as possible and attempt to keep a professional distance, yet when I am forced to acknowledge her presence, I always walk away wondering why we were ever friends in the first place. She's a ditzy blonde and a champion flirt who can't keep her knees closed to save her soul, and now that she's shit where she sleeps, her chosen method of redemption is playing the martyr. She's begun to subtly manipulate everyone into believing that she wants to be my friend, but I'm just so mean that I won't even talk to her. Big, bad Axis has emotionally sucker-punched the poor, sweet little ex-friend, and if her hang-dog look and syrupy tone are any indication, in playing the role of the victim she's actually convinced herself it's true. She seems to have forgotten her revolting act of avarice and betrayal. Where, oh where is that goddamn holy sword of truth when thou really needest to rend thine enemy?
I suppose if I'm brutally honest with myself, none of this comes as a surprise. When your entire family raises you to believe that your happiness is the only ultimate matter of significance in the universe, how can you possibly blame yourself for your own fuck-ups? If you're only doing what you're told -- pursuing your own satisfaction regardless of the expense to others -- then the bad stuff must be all someone else's fault, right? In fact, the bad stuff must be the fault of the person you fucked over, lied to, and stabbed in the back.
I wonder what it's like to live like that; to be so blissfully irresponsible for your own actions. You can lie shamelessly, cheat guiltlessly, screw carelessly, and yet believe so thoroughly in your own innocence that you fool nearly everyone you lay your big blue eyes on.
I'm not sure if it's a blessing or a curse, but I'll probably never know the answer.
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1 comment:
i've never understood people like that, either. you've got to wonder what would happen if she ever really woke up to herself.
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