My heart is bigger than yours. I don’t want to get in to a power struggle…I am just saying. I have this uncanny knack at allowing people who take advantage of me back in to my life without thought. I make excuses for people…. I allow people to disrespect me, mainly because I feel like I can handle it. If disrespecting me means this person will have a better day…than go for it.
Okay…maybe it’s not my heart…because I am pretty vengeful too. Maybe it’s my ego? Or my naïve need to be well liked. Maybe I am forgiving? But have the memory of an elephant. There is a line in a Sara Bareilles song…”My memory is cruel. Queen of attention to detail.” In her situation it is about a love situation…which applies to my other self as well…but in this regard….let’s just keep things friendly…if you will.
After a rather unpleasant phone conversation with my ex-husband, it was brought to my attention that one of my friends propositioned him. Literally, this happened. When he first told me a few weeks ago I ignored him. Believed he was lying only because everything else he said in the same sentence was just that, a lie. Then I started wondering what my friend‘s deal was. Like, why would she do this? She has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who actually calls her his girlfriend. A boyfriend who she is apartment hunting with. A boyfriend who is hours away from proposing, something she always wanted….of course, not necessarily from him…but from anyone.
See, people in desperate situations make said situation seem perfect. Here is a girl who clung to anyone for anything our entire lives. Naturally, this person of interest is going to be just that, perfect. Now, some may say I am capable of this same flaw. In reality I am fully aware of what the situation is and how I am going to either sink or swim. I just know that sometimes having a person like me in a life that is rather chaotic will calm the person…and we all deserve, even if for moments, to feel calm.
Anyway- back to the hoe at hand. This friend of mine, was one of my bridesmaids. Tiffany was supposed to be my friend. Perhaps the definition of friend got lost in translation some where around outreaching my ex-husband and inquiring if he wanted to go party with her, but then spend the night at her apartment. It isn’t like he was going out that way to party and then she suggested that he crash there. He was invited to her town to stay and party with her and god knows what other people.
Tiffany, if you are out there….I am quite certain that your current boyfriend does not need to know just how classy you are.
As I said, initially, I assumed my ex was lying. Like I said, he was lying about a lot of things that day during that particular conversation just to hurt me. He was on a tangent about how everyone in my life laughed at me and hates me. Rightfully so. I tend to be a bit brash and well, honest. And, if you ask for my opinion with something you are going to get that…a well thought out opinion based on potential psychological research as to why I am accurate in what I am saying to you. I am not just saying something to say it. It is well calculated.
I know that I am also a very reactive person. Ordinarily. Ordinarily, if this situation with Tiffany occurred let’s say, five years ago, before I had my daughter….I would have been destroying people emotionally. I would have reminded you about that dark secret you confided to me and reminded you why you should back down accordingly before that got thrown back in to your face. I am cruel with my words. Only because I am probably more sensitive than anyone would know and I like to fight fire with fire. If you make me feel a certain way I am naturally going to reciprocate said feeling. I don’t have it in me to back down or walk away. What I have gotten better with is waiting to attack.
In this situation…however, at 33 years old….I am quite certain I don’t even need to attack.
Let me explain. This is Tiffany in a nut shell…a rather big nut shell.
I met Tiffany when I was right out of high school. She was your typical Suburban girl who tried to be city-like. She was a snob and rightfully so. Her parents were wealthy. Not sure what either did though. She had a gaggle of siblings and lived in a big house on the rich side of town. So rich, that she didn’t go to the town school district, because a Blue Ribbon Awarded School of Excellence wasn’t good enough…and instead her parents paid upwards of $10-15,000 a year per kid, for private school. She wore nice clothes and ate nice food and did nice things. Her parents seemed to love her. She was a typical Daddy’s Girl. Terribly insecure though about her personal physique. Not sure why. She was just a bigger girl. For no reason other than that was who she was. She was never fat, or overweight….just thick. Not a size zero. Naturally. Hating one of our other friends, Maria, Tiffany would often binge eat, starve, and most likely purge (although I may be wrong about the purging part) out of horror that she resembled Maria. Maria, also on the thick side, was well liked by most…at times. But appearance, she was always dressed classy and for the event. Hair done, makeup done, nails done, etc. Cleaned up nice. Tiffany, well….she looked the same regardless. She also had this air about her…in that…she stunk. People would make fun of her for it. I would try to stop them, but it was no use. The guys she would hook up with would complain to me about an odor. Wonder what it was. Our girlfriends would mock her and when out and intoxicated pretend to spray on ounces of perfume….as this is what she did. To be honest, I wasn’t hooking up with her, I wasn’t having to be that close to her, and my sole purpose of spending time with her was that she was fun….a confidant…. and what I thought this whole time, a friend.
After understanding that through exercise and starvation you could lose weight, she did. I will never forget when she asked me if she could borrow a pair of my jeans. Granted, now we are probably similar in size as 10 years have past, and I had a kid….the jeans she was asking to borrow were a size 24. In designer jeans. I just said okay. She said these are a 25, so I should be able to suck-it-in to squeeze them on. Right. Whatever. The swapping of my jeans never happened. However, it provided me with some insight in to what her problem with me might be.
When I got married, she made sure to wear the shorter version of the dress. She went tanning and got her makeup done at a different boutique than the one we went to. Her hair was done differently than was supposed to be. I was quite certain she was living vicariously through….me. She strutted her stuff down the runway, or the isle. She graciously clung to the two guys walking her down. It was bizarre. She then got incredibly wasted and shouted at my new mother-in-law….and not that I cared because I wasn’t fond of her either….there is still this element of class that dissipates when one acts like an animal in public, for no reason other than because they feel entitled to.
That sense of entitlement was what she was notorious for. She truly believes she is better than people. For what reason? Obviously her father and family exacerbate the situation by flooding her ego. The fact that she works for a federal company and earns my salary times 8 with only a college degree is preposterous, but good for her for being so smart. She pays oodles of money a month towards rent to live in a desirable city. Tiffany Land, hahaha, if you will.
People around her just aren’t good enough. But in the end…I have exactly what she always wanted…and as vain as it is to say….I am naturally thin, found a person who accepts me for I am (even if he is a Mr. Right, Now), and have a daughter that will love me unconditionally forever.
So, what would any entitled snake do? Go after my ex? I still don’t get it.
To make matters worse, she confided in me randomly and then started baiting me to talk shit about my ex, which isn’t hard because I cannot stand him sometimes and hate him most of the time and try to stop me is all I will say….then showed my ex the conversation. The gchat conversation. Yes. This is my friend. Then has the audacity to comment on my social media sites and send me advice about how my marriage didn’t fail, it just did not work out.
I remember those days hanging out with Tiffany….when she was a cum guzzling whore. When she stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. When she did whoever and whatever to be the person on top….literally. I remember when she would sob while wasted about how this person didn’t love her or how she was fat or whatever. I remember when she made bad decisions and moved in with her boyfriend and his lunatic mother, or she cheated incessantly on her boyfriend because she was in love with her ex. Or how she made all these mistakes through life but somehow they all got cleaned up for her.
Fortunately, her mistakes no longer affect me…and if she wants, she can have my ex. He is a charming person…for about six months and then loses his cool. Tiffany, honey, you can have all my exes. I kind of don’t need them anymore. See, as uncomfortable as it is to be alone…I would rather be alone with myself than friends with you. So:
To Tiffany,
Enjoy.
Xoxox
Gossip Girl.