Dear I-know -what- you -did -that- drunken -night- several- years -ago:
We aren't really that close. In fact, I haven't talked to you on the phone in a good two years, nor have we hung out or even seen one another. You have a child now, that just turned one, that I've never met. You've seen my girl twice, and she's 4. So, are we really friends? Probably not.
That being said, we had some good times together. Remember the time I drove home tipsy from the bar and backed into that parked car? How about the time we went drinking downtown, and some girl passed out, fell, and cracked her head on the steps of a club, and I bent over to help her, and you called me a 'heroooooo'? What about all the times I had to basically carry you to your car, over served, and we giggled the whole way home? How about the time we made out?
Did I just say that out loud?
Oh, yes, YES I DID.
See, here's my issue: I saw your Facebook page. I saw the funny ha-ha jokes about girls who make out with other girls, about lesbians, your comments about how disgusting that is....
Yeah, you want to forget that night happened, don't you? As I recall, the next day, hungover and pale, you came over to 'talk' with me, saying you didn't know what came over you, that it would never happen again, that you were hammered. But it did. More than once.
That's totally fine. I don't see what the big deal is anyway.
But to totally act like it's disgusting and 'gross in a gross way'? Seriously?
Out of all of it, I think I can't be your friend because you aren't honest with yourself OR others.
The girl you kissed
Dear Sweet woman who has gone through an awful loss-
I met you online, via blogging, just like I have so many other wonderful women. Your story moved me. Your past saddened me, but out of the wreckage, it seemed, had come this wonderfully strong woman who was doing her best at being a good mother. We commented on one another's posts, emailed back and forth, and at some point, exchanged phone numbers. You had no problem giving me your cell phone number.
We never talked on the phone, although I'm not sure why.
I sent you a birthday card. You had no problem giving me your home address.
You found out you were pregnant, and I 'squeeeeeee'-ed about it constantly. I started thinking about the sweet little things I would buy on Etsy for your sweet baby, although I knew I probably wouldn't meet you or your children for awhile, since you live a couple of states away.
You found out your child would not live long once out of your womb, and I was heart stricken. I emailed you, commented on your painful posts, prayed, prayed, prayed. You shared a lot on your blog about this pregnancy, about your pain, your worry, your anger. You shared a lot. You had tons of new followers, people who had heard about you, and were now following your story.
I prayed nightly for a woman I didn't know. I prayed for peace for your family, for a miracle for your unborn child. When I couldn't sleep, I thought about your and your family.
You included me in your personal emails to your friends and family; you emailed me. I thought this meant you considered me a friend? I am not sure how else I could have shown you that I could be a friend, an IRL friend, not just someone online, faceless and hidden.
The night before you were to give birth, you sent another email out to all of your friends and family, and again included me.
The day you were to give birth, I woke up early to pray. I called a very close friend of mine, and asked him to pray for you and your family. I went to class, but was distracted, wondering about you, if you were okay, if your baby had been born. You said you may update your blog the day of the birth, so I checked a couple of times throughout the day. I prayed.
That night, feeling worried for you, I hit "reply all" to your family & friends email, two short sentences asking if anyone had heard from you, if you were okay; I was worried. I did not ask about the baby. I didn't not ask for details. I was simply worried about you; how were you holding up?
Two people replied rather quickly, telling me more than I asked for. I thanked them both for letting me know that you were as okay as you could possibly be in this situation.
A few days later, you texted me, telling me you were upset with me for contacting your friends and family. I apologized, although, I must admit, I was confused. You were angry, obviously, angry that I had 'intruded'. You felt that I was forcing you to talk about something you weren't ready to talk about-the birth. I explained that I was sincerely just worried about my friend, YOU, and had not even asked about the baby. I wasn't your friend for the sake of the drama. I was your friend because that's what I do.
Later that day, you posted, and I commented. Immediately, you emailed me, asking me to stay away from your blog, to not comment any longer, that you are a private person and didn't feel comfortable with my intrusion, although you "knew" I was just trying to be nice.
Can I say that it really hurt my feelings? Can I say that I sat there in front of my laptop for awhile, typing reply after reply that I deleted? Can I say that I emailed your email to a couple of very close friends, asking them for feedback? Was I overbearing, inappropriate, intruding?
I chalked it up to your grief. I felt that it wasn't really fair to me for you to do this, but I totally understood that you were going through something no one should have to go through. I prayed about it, I found patience in spite of my hurt feelings.
I gave you your space. I never replied to your email.
I continued to pray for you.
My feelings stopped being hurt after awhile.
I went to your blog a couple of weeks ago, because I had dreamt of you. You were on my mind. So I went to your blog. I won't bother to tell you what I read; it doesn't even matter anymore.
But what upset me was this: you made mention of deciding that there were people you didn't want in your life. And I had a feeling you might mean me, since it's been several months since we've had any contact. And?
It pissed me right off.
I'm still pissed. I take offense to you honestly feeling that I was intruding by trying to see if you were okay. I take offense that you say you are a private person, that you felt uncomfortable with my concern. How can you honestly say that to me? Do I look dumb? Do I look like someone who will fall for that bullshit line? You have a blog; you can't possibly be that private. You shared intimate feelings and experiences on your blog; not to a few readers, but to several dozen. You included me in your private emails to your family and friends, yet told me more than once that you didn't even know me; that I didn't even know you. And even after you told me you wanted space, you obviously continued to share your very private story online.
Honestly, I am happy that you have such good readership; it means that there are many who are praying for you, hoping good things for you.But I just don't get it. I just don't get the real reasoning behind being rude and hurtful towards me, and basically shutting me out.
At this point, I see that my time as a friend to you is over. That maybe I was only needed to pray for you during that time; there will be nothing else. And I'm fine with that; I really am.
But I simply want you to know, that if you truly believe that we didn't know one another, than you can be pretty confident in thinking that I treat my friends better than I treat my acquaintances. Because, by your line of thinking, we weren't friends, merely online acquaintances. And look how much time and effort and tears I put into you, this acquaintance.
I mean no harm to anyone that I meet and I am fiercely loyal to my friends, whether they are IRL or only online. I am sorry you thought I wasn't a friend; I guess I was mistaken. However, I am not sorry that I tried to be your friend, although I learned a valuable lesson in this, and am now only putting my heart, my time, my loyalty in friendships where the feeling is obviously mutual.
Good luck to you. May you find peace in your life.
Someone who could have been a friend