you might regret later…
“She called the other night crying upset because of some dinner you j and c had. She was saying that it used to be no question, you would have told her about it…I think its one of those things where you think the solution might be to separate yourself, because you don’t know what else to do …but separating could cause distance that you might regret later”
It’s come to this?
I never said that she’s changed. I’ve only ever said that I’ve changed…or rather, I see things differently. Sure, we were good friends (for a short moment, dare I say, best friends?) but I had just moved to this foreign land, where I knew few people and she was my source of activity, introduction to new faces and interesting personalities, she was the guide in my new adventure.
Except, after numerous Friday and Saturday nights of meeting friends of friends who for some reason seem to show a lack of interest, or do things that you find push the edge of “acceptable” in your book, I quickly realized that I had fallen into a well.
That well was one of routine…one that I let myself get trapped in. It was the easy way to go; it’s Friday night…where are we going? You tell me. I’m there. I was down. My spare time revolved around things she did…I just followed aimlessly being led from one place to the next as I’d watch her get progressively drunk and act increasingly wild.
All I hear about on Monday’s is who she met on Friday, and Saturday, and sometimes Sunday. Of those guys…who she made out with, and which one she’s going on a date with this week. EVERY weekend it’s different guys…we can’t even keep track anymore, we don’t even know their names and I don’t even know how you remember them all. We know them by occupation/hobby/style of dress (there’s lawyer boy, rocker boy, the divorcee, finance boy (he was a douchebag), the drummer, the folk singer…you get the point). I’m tired…of hearing about these guys, and what she did when she was really drunk, and how much of a hangover she had, and what she can’t believe she said to him/her.
This distance between us only exists because this is what she chooses to do in her spare time and I’ve realized it’s not what I want to do. It’s a good thing…it means I’m being independent. I’m no longer reliant on her.
My independence is something I don’t regret gaining…I wonder if what she does on Friday’s, Saturday’s and Sunday’s is something she’ll regret later.
