If I hear one more of my friends say that sentence as justification for making me do things I don’t want to do, I promise I will personally disband The Breakup Blog simply to make a point.
Ok. That is a bit extreme. I wouldn’t go that far, however, my friends are collecting bad karma points for taking advantage of me in that particular way. And therein lies the problem with being a writer whose misery becomes a source of entertainment for others. When I don’t want to do something my friends want to do because I know it will unduly cause me discomfort, shame, or some combination of both, they gleefully remind me that I can “write about it!”
Case in point:
This weekend, I joined one of my girlfriends for a glass of wine at a cute wine bar in her hood. As we chatted, she continued to text back and forth with a friend of ours who also happens to be really good friends with my most recent ex (not HIM him, but an ex nonetheless.)
Before I’d even finished my first glass of wine and was able to get a good buzz going- essential for reckless decision-making- she asked if I wanted to meet up with our friend at another nearby bar. I shrugged and agreed, until I looked at her most recent text. I immediately spotted in the response to her question of who was there my ex’s name.
I started shaking my head and my friend smiled sheepishly. “Come on,” she insisted. “It’ll be cool.”
You see, I have no problem seeing my ex. His new gorgeous girlfriend, however? Furthermore, I had been napping before I decided to go out and in my rush to get there had skipped doing my makeup and had pulled my hair back into a sloppy ponytail. Seeing my ex and his hot girlfriend while feeling completely unattractive? No thanks.
She wouldn’t give up, though. And then she uttered the words, I have come to recognize as my friends’ go-to last ditch effort: But you can write about it!
I checked my phone, saw that it was barely 11 PM, and rolled my eyes. Groaning, I consented because the only thing lamer than being dragged to a bar to confront your ex and his new girlfriend is being shamed into retreating to your house before midnight on a Saturday night because of your ex and his new girlfriend.
In hindsight, it wasn’t that bad. I borrowed lipstick from my friend, immediately ran into the bathroom to try to “sexy” up my hair, and never even had to be awkwardly introduced by my ex to the girl who took my place. My ex was cordial and we amicably chatted about what we’d been up to.
At the end of the night, I even got a delicious bacon-wrapped hot dog and cheesy tater tots from the gourmet food truck outside the bar and collapsed into my bed slightly tipsy and comfortably full.
My friend will most likely read this and text me later to let me know how right she was and how I was able to write about this, but to her I say: screw you, whatever.
This is my friend on the left. If you see her on the street, please punch her for me.