Question in Moving Into a New Nest

Awhile back I was invited by a friend, Trish, to paint the wall in her living room. She was going for the exploding TARDIS Van Gogh-ish look (which I have painted)

I figured she wanted my help because I had painted it and this would be basically a larger version of that. She was going to have several people paint it, at various times. I said sure, because I had not seen her nor spoken to her in a few months, and wished to be more social. I’ve been quite isolated lately outside of my girlfriend, and wanted to spend time with friends.

So I went over there just as her husband was leaving and rang the doorbell. Apparently the doorbell does not work, so I’m standing there for awhile before I text Trish that I’m here. She finally lets me in and shows me the paints and the wall (it had already been started by I’m assuming her). This is when I find out this was going to be done with finger paints (not exactly, as she mentioned this in passing previously but my mind skimmed over it) She lets me at it and I immediately discover whoever started this thing has not kept to the true design of the original (which my painting was, literally. I used rulers and proportions and all that jazz, making it more an exercise in focus and discipline than necessarily creativity). So I’m staring at the original on my phone and looking back and forth between my phone and the wall pondering how to “fix” it before coming to the conclusion it wasn’t mine to fix and she wanted a “loose interpretation” then so be it. I will say, if I had had allergies that night, I would not have been able to keep the paint from being everywhere. I literally had a finger of white, a finger of blue, a finger of yellow, a finger of a different blue because I had no way to wipe my finger clean when changing colors, and any mixing I wanted to be on my terms and not because I simply wanted to change colors.

Trish and her roommate were working on some sort of steampunk bridal shower/wedding costume during this time, which perturbed me a little, but I figured they were wrapping up, and Trish or both would join me soon. That was the thing: I viewed this as a chance to do an activity with my friend, because I haven’t really spent time with her, in person, in months. Her and her roommate go to the garage and the backyard taking pictures for one reason or another, and two and a half hours later, I’m still here by myself painting this thing, getting quite upset. My phone was about to die, so I only had two photos, which are more a my part sort of thing, and Trish’s Facebook photo of where it was after I had finished.

My swirl

The swirly nature of the thing reminded me of Arabic, whose script I’ve been fascinated by for many years, so I googled what “time” meant, since I thought it was appropriate, and wrote that in Arabic into one of the swirls

This is where it stood about a week after my contribution to give a point of reference.

After essentially being left alone for two hours (might have been more) while Trish and her roommate did some steampunk-esque possibly wedding related photography, they found me playing possum on the couch. I was tired of being ignored, and rather than just up and bolt (which for some reason never seriously crossed my mind although it now looked like a satisfying option) I pretended I had fallen asleep on the couch, complete with gradually being stirred awake by Trish and feigning not being certain of where I was or why I was there (she still thinks I had fallen asleep). I chose not to bring up the problem (which I SHOULD HAVE, so passive aggressive), we talked for a few minutes, she showed me her husband’s office, and I went home.

She had not spoken to me once since then until last night, except to apologize via text a couple of days later (this incident happened over a month ago) saying she found a glass duckling she had meant to give me back then (she often sends me pictures of ducks she comes across because she knows I enjoy waterfowl).

My question is, do I just forgive what I find to be quite poor manners? If she had other plans, should she have not just advised me to come another evening? Was I wrong in assuming the experience to be different from what is was? Should I take her (and others like her) lack of initiative in simply saying “hi” for weeks at a time (both before and after the painting) as indicative of lack of interest in being more than an acquaintance (when I thought and wanted her to be a closer friend) and should I take offense to that? I can’t force anyone to talk to me, and I’m wondering whether those who do not wish to do so should still be in my life, even if it leaves me rather short on friends.