Hey. Today I realized that I’ve totally become that friend, haven’t I? Or worse, maybe I’ve been that friend all along.
We rarely see each other any more. You probably need me now like you’ve needed me before, and true to form, I’m MIA.
In my defense, it’s not that you’re not on my mind. In fact, my shitty friend status causes me a lot of anxiety. I think of you often. I want to reach out, call just to say hi, get together, make plans.
But then there are so many compelling reasons to deny myself the pleasure of your company.
You probably need me now like you’ve needed me before, and true to form, I’m MIA. Image via HBO.
Like the fact that I’m also a shitty wife and mother. Since I barely spend any quality time with my husband or my son (since I’m working my tail off to feed said husband and said son), spending time with you seems like drinking champagne on the deck of the Titanic; I’d love to grab some bubbly, but this ship is fucking sinking and I should probably grab a bucket instead.
I also can’t see you because I don’t work out enough, or go to yoga, or read books for fun, or buy blackberries (even when they’re on sale). Since I no longer do me, seeing you has turned into yet another luxury I can’t justify gifting myself.
I long for the type of friendships I see in films and on TV, where people drop by their friend’s houses unannounced and everyone enjoys fresh fruit plates and white wine in the middle of the afternoon (while wearing pants that zip, shirts that have collars, and lipstick. Lipstick, I say!).