I was trying to be nice. I was. I was trying not to say any of this in my journal. But I'm angry as hell, and I'm tired of keeping it to myself out of politeness. I'm not the polite sort, you know? And FUCK courtesy to anybody else.
About a month ago, my "friend" Chad really pissed me off.
I asked Peter to move out and the first person who offered him a place to stay was Chad. Well, fine. That didn't bother me. I was glad for Peter that he had a place to stay and all... But...
Chad called me up and told me how happy he was that Peter was moving in with him. Now he'd have somebody to live with. Now he'd have a "CUTE BOY" to live with.
Uh... yeah. You can't imagine how pissed I was. Not that Chad thought Peter was cute -- Peter IS cute. Not that I was pissed off that Chad was going to be living with Peter, although it was kind of a shitty thing to do, calling me and saying, "I'm so happy to have Peter as a housemate," when *I* was losing Peter as a housemate. I was pissed because Peter's a FUCK of a lot more than a cute boy, and it infuriated me that Chad could, in one telephone conversation, make it seem like:
*...all I was losing, by Peter moving out, was an attractive person in my presence, and I shouldn't make such a big deal out of it.
*...He was gaining something glorious because he was gaining an attractive person in his presence.
*...I was a shitty friend for throwing Peter out.
*...Chad was a great friend for taking Peter in.
Okay......
I know I'm a shitty friend. I don't know why Peter even speaks to me anymore. If best friendship was food, I'd be the nasty green crap you think used to be a devilled egg, and it makes your whole house smell nasty from INSIDE the refrigerator. If best friendship were a lawn, I'd be a lawn in El Paso with like, one big clump of ugly weeds and bone-dry brown-yellow dirt all over the rest of it. If best friendship was the jungle, I'd be the big tree with the red X in the middle, and protesters wouldn't bother sitting in me with signs saying, "save the rainforest."
...but I DON'T want to be reminded of it all the time. Not that Chad SAID "you're a shitty friend," but he was certainly insensitive enough to remind me of EXACTLY how awful I was.
And then he asked about Jeff and his boyfriend, telling me how cute they were and how I must LOVE living with them because I'd get to look at those sexy boys all the time... I could almost see a little cartoon bubble over his head with the two of them stepping out of the bathroom in towels and me watching wet, bare chests ravenously. Uh... no, not really... I wanted to scream at him, "y'know, I DO think about other things once in awhile..." But I didn't. I just listened to him chatter about Jeff's cute ass and the cute boys he'd seen that weekend, and the cute boys he was going to go out with, and the cute boy he was living with...
I dunno, maybe it's just a personality difference. I mean, maybe I'm a freak because, while I enjoy attractive men, and I enjoy sex with attractive men, and thinking about sex with attractive men, it's not ENTIRELY what I think about... I mean, my best times with Jeff have not been the times I've seen him changing his clothes or the times we sat up telling our deepest darkest Jerry Springer secrets. My best times with Jeff have been singing on the rooftop and watching police cars and making fun of nasty drag queens and torching bugs at baseball games with lighters. My best times with Peter have been riding the ferris wheel at the Labor Day festival and putting an arm around him when we got stuck at the top, and laughing over absolutely nothing until we choked, and playing tag in the parking lot of the Cider Mill Playhouse, and thumb-wrestling until one of us is bruised and bleeding. (Okay, so thumb-wrestling is kind of a contact sport for us, but for gahd's sake, it's not ALL I think about...)
It's NOT all I think about.
So I emailed Chad and I told him I didn't want to hear about how "cute" he thought Peter was. And I didn't want to hear how he nearly creamed his jeans thinking about Jeff. People are MORE than that, dammit -- you're supposed to hang out with people, not get off on them. It really seemed to me that Chad really didn't get it. It also seemed that Chad... well, it kind of seemed, thinking back, that he'd never really come over to the apartment to see ME, but just to spend time with my housemates. As a matter of fact, come to think of it, wasn't it convenient that Chad, who'd had PLENTY of nasty things to say about Peter to ME (ie, "throw him out"), had been right there to step up and take my place as a housemate, and then have nothing more to say to me than giving his usual repertoire of cute boys he wanted to sleep with?
My email to him was rude. Why wouldn't it be? I felt used. Yes, my life is just chock full of attractive men, most of whom are gay, bi, or gay-acting (sorry, Aaron, but you know you do dress well...) Anytime Chad wanted his fix of cute boys, all he had to do was come running to me and there was bound to be a few hanging around. Yes, I felt used. The second he'd helped convince me Peter was no good and that I should throw him out, he invited Peter to move in with him. TELL me that doesn't sound like an abuse of friendship. I said I didn't fucking want to hear it.
His email back was rude. He said he couldn't see how I could say those things to him, and I was irrational. He said I twisted his words. He said we'd done LOTS of things together that didn't involve boy-watching, and that it WASN'T all he thought about, and if I couldn't see that, well, I was an awfully shitty friend. He mentioned the time we went to Elmira together... (which, I SINCERELY thought was to pick up boys...) He mentioned times we'd gone to Chances together... (which USUALLY involved him talking about which boys he'd like to see shirtless...) That pretty much settled it in my mind. He HAD been using me.
"Do you work tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"What time?"
"Noon, why?"
"No reason. Are you working with any of those hotties tomorrow?"
--a typical conversation between Chad and me.
I told him I was fucking sick of it. I was sick of "CUTE BOYS" and questions about my sex life with Peter. I was sick of hearing how gorgeous Jeff was. (I will concede that Jeff is attractive, but he's not my type and even if he WAS my type, I think I'd laugh until I cried if we were ever in bed naked together...) I was sick of feeling like he talked to me only to get information about Peter or Jeff or whomever happened to be over at the apartment for a visit. I was sick of feeling like he didn't care when I said, "gee, I had a nasty customer at work today," and got a reply like, "I think the guy you work with is gay..."
I told Chad to stay out of my life.
He came over the next day and slipped a letter under my door, a direct violation of my request for him to stay out of my life. Not to mention it was a rude letter: "You're losing out on a great friendship because you're irrational and you're a liar. And just because I think so-and-so is hot and I think Jeff is hot and I think Peter is hot, doesn't mean it's all I think about." If memory serves me, Chad didn't mention anything else he thought about. It wasn't a very good argument. Not to mention that he'd been in my house after I'd asked him to leave me the hell alone.
Again, I reiterated.
I discovered his screen-name on my computer the other day. Jeff's boyfriend (who really ought to have a name, but I can't think of one) said, "Guess who was here today to use your computer?"
"He just walked IN?" I yelled.
"No, he was with Peter, and he asked me if he could use the computer for awhile, and then he was talking to me for awhile, asking stupid questions about the couch and stuff..." His face looked squeamish. His face looked as if Chad had come into the house and stood there going, "hi little boy, want some candy?" He looked as if he felt violated.
"Stupid questions about the couch?" I asked, furious.
"Yeah... He looked like he wanted to rip my clothes off or something, and he asked where Jeff was. I was just like, 'At WORK.' I'm surprised he didn't drool all over the floor."
I emailed Chad. I told him to stay away from my house. I told him to stay the FUCK away from my house. *I* felt dirty and violated.
No, I haven't been using you for anything, Helena; how could you possibly think that? Oh, by the way, I'm using your computer and scoping out your housemate while you're at work, but you're irrational for thinking I'm using you.
I used to really like Chad. I mean, it just seemed normal to talk about guys with him all the time. I mean, yeah, that WAS all we talked about, because when I'd change the subject, he'd change it back... But, okay, fine, I liked talking to Chad, and hanging out... But now he creeps me out, and that's not a good way to feel about somebody you've called a friend in the past. It's not somebody you'd WANT to make up with. I feel like I barely know him anymore. I feel like, if I let him in my house, he'll feel perfectly at home to do whatever he wants: use the computer, scope out my housemate, hound for information about my other housemate, search my room for pictures of naked boys??? It seems like his entire mission in life is to get laid by hot guys -- preferably on a regular basis. That's not somebody I want in my house. Or anywhere around me. I will not be a part of a mission like that.
I also emailed Peter and told him not to bring Chad over here again. He got pissed off. And I got pissed off. And we argued for the first time since he moved out. A whole month we'd managed to be completely nice to each other, and friendly, and best-friend-like... And then we had to have a stupid argument about Chad.
Peter and I were going to go to his house that night, because I hadn't been around on my birthday, and we wanted to spend a little time together. Well, Chad drove up and invited Peter out to dinner, leaving me to walk home alone. Peter was pissed off at me for refusing to have anything to do with Chad. And this fight with Chad isn't worth losing my best friend over. So when I got home, I emailed him and said, "look, I'm still pissed as hell at you, but I'd like to call a truce."
But no, Chad won't call a truce. Chad was rude to me. Chad wants me to bend over and kiss his ass and beg him for forgiveness before he'll consider speaking to me again. Chad says I'm a shitty friend. And irrational. Chad had plenty to say about what he thought of me. He still didn't say he did anything but look at hot boys -- or at least he couldn't come up with any examples.
I give up.
What the hell more do I have to do?
I WILL NOT kiss his ass and beg for forgiveness. I know I've been rude, and I know I've said some of the rudest things I've EVER said, in emails to Chad. I even feel bad about some of those things. But I do NOT think I'm wrong in feeling used, and I do not think I'm wrong in wanting a friend who wants more from me than a way to get ahold of hot boys. I also don't think I'm wrong in thinking he's been extremely rude to me.
Also, hearing from my closest friends what a bitch I am and how crazy I am is hardly my idea of a friendship worth repairing. Certainly nothing worth begging forgiveness to save.
There's a housewarming party this weekend. Chad is moving in with three of my other friends. It's been made perfectly clear I will not be welcome, not even to see my other friends. I will not be going. I will not be going to Peter's apartment very often because Chad has made it clear he doesn't want to see me, and that Peter's apartment is on HIS turf, even though he doesn't live there anymore.
I'll just go to work and not think about any of it. It's easy if you try hard enough. I learned that from the best.
I MADE A FUCKING EFFORT -- A REAL EFFORT. I WOULD CALL A TRUCE, BUT HE TOLD ME I'M CRAZY.
Sorry. Had to get it out of my system so I can think about something else for the rest of the day. Like, nothing. Just go to work and don't think about anything. Just go to work and think about work. Just go to work and put a shell around yourself and throw out witty comebacks where necessary. And don't ever, ever cry. Because then all is lost.
I hate you so much, Chad. I hate you, and I hate the pity you get because you complain about me constantly. I hate you and I hate the way you talk about Peter -- and Jeff and all the others, but mostly Peter -- like he's nothing more to you than a potential fuck. I hate knowing you used me to get to gahd knows how many potential fucks. I hate knowing I LIKED you, that I danced with you to have fun while you were looking over my shoulder at my housemate. I hate knowing I meant nothing to you but somebody to gossip about cute boys with. TO HELL with cute boys. I hate that after all of this, you want ME to beg for forgiveness. I TRIED, Chad, I TRIED to call a truce. I thought if we called a truce, you'd talk to me, and I'd talk to you, and somewhere, we'd see some huge misunderstanding, or maybe you'd changed, or maybe you valued my friendship in some small way, but no... no truce until I bow and scrape to you.
Fuck off.
~Helena*
"I hate you so much right now..." --Kelis