Welcome to the city. Newsflash - cheap motels in the city are filthy and scary.
Several months ago when you said that you were bound for my area, I offered up my home to the two of you. Silence.
And again, only a few weeks ago, I sent a message reminding you that I would love to see you. The offer on my home was still plenty good. Again, silence. Sure my home is modest, but it is clean and as someone who considered myself a good friend of yours for many years, I would have loved seeing you. Even if only for a very short time.
Not that I’m particularly surprised. It’s not like this is new behavior on your part.
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How many years have I been mailing Christmas cards to your family? And how many times has the gesture even been acknowledged? I’m not sure about the first number, but I know the second one is zero.
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A few years ago when I had the big house and the space to accommodate you and your entire family I invited you. I would have been happy to help make that happen. But again, I never got an answer.
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Even way back when we were kids, after you moved away I was always the one whose parents who had to pay the long-distance bill for our phone calls. The one time you called me back after missing my call? It was a damn collect call!
It’s not so much that we haven’t seen each other - we live halfway across the country from each other and it’s hard. And it’s certainly not that I make gestures just so that I can be thanked (because I absolutely loathe those people). It’s that whenever I extend an offer, I would much rather a rejection than avoidance. At least the former involves an acknowledgement. So you know what, when I see you on social media complaining about the state of your hotel room in my town because it was probably one of the cheapest available, I’m not going to feel sorry for you because I know you were offered and you turned down (even if you were silent about it) less shady accommodations.
But hey, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve used social media to perfect your narrative, either. You were the one who asked me how happy I was in life on a 10 point Likert scale, so that you could confide with me about the details of your personal 4 rating. You went into detail about how trapped you felt by your husband and situation. How he has PUT HIS HANDS ON YOU, how he was trying to “figure out his situation” with another female while you and your kids are 1,500 miles away with HIS parents, and how you have “no way out.” But then, shortly after that conversation you’re online gushing about how wonderful he is, etc., etc. eye roll
So yes, now I’m taking a step back because:
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It’s beyond obvious that you don’t care for me the way that I’ve always cared for you.
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I don’t care for reading about lies, but most importantly:
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If your husband is as physically and emotionally abusive as you made him out to be, by choosing to stay in that situation you are hurting your children more than anyone
Bed made, lie.
And that’s what I’d say if you ever told me to tell you what I’m really thinking. Not that you will (see bulleted point about caring above).
Mid-Day Anonymous
PS - Part of me wonders if you’ll continue to let everyone know how adorable it is when your little “diva” talks back is by the time she hits 13. Then again, it won’t be my problem.
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