old shit that just came up

shadeshaman's picture

When I was in college, the second time, I worked at Jack-in-the-Box. I was living on my own, barely surviving on minimum wage. My parents didn’t seem to care too much. I had this friend, Sammy. She worked at J-- with me and took classes at the same college as I. We rode scooters--mopeds-- together and joked about having a scooter gang, The Scooter Babes. She drank a lot more than I did and I think she got more action, in part because she had large breasts. In part because she was willing to use her large breasts to get more action. She would complain that men would talk to her chest instead of her face, but I’m not entirely certain that she didn’t use that to her advantage. I could be wrong. I don’t understand the male mind, pretty much at all. Nevertheless, we had the shared experience of coming from toxically dysfunctional families, and she kinda helped me to begin to see that it wasn’t that I was a bad person, it was that my parents did a shitty job at parenting.
At that time, I was still trying to be a part of my family, even though they didn’t seem to notice or care that I was very depressed (I had attempted suicide when I was 19, and they knew about that). I would go to my mom’s house sometimes and hang out there. I introduced Sammy to my mom, you know, she came with me for dinner or to watch movies at my mom’s house. I was also friendly with Sammy’s sisters, who were her housemates. I occupied the same spot in their family as I did in my own--hanging out, but not really included. I’m only just analyzing this now, as I write.
Well, there was this guy who worked at J-- with us, he was like a shift supervisor or something. Blond, thin, kinda bulgy eyes. Kind of cute, but kind of a jerk. Tim, maybe or Terry or something. Sammy talked about him a lot, talked shit about him a lot. As I write and analyze this now, I am aware that sometimes it doesn’t matter what a person says about another person, what matters is the how frequently that person is mentioned. If someone is worth talking about--good or bad--that someone assumes a certain level of importance. I didn’t understand that at the time. So, one night, I was hanging out at Sammy’s and she suggested that we invite this Tim guy over and have some drinks. I, naively, thought that she was kind of extending the peace pipe or peace shot glass, as it were, to the guy. So she had me call him up and invite him over, and he came over and we were talking and drinking, and I became aware that she was subtly positioning herself over me, not literally, not physically, but in a sexual rival kind of way. Like one-upping me, trying to make herself look good by making me look bad. Not obvious, but it was making me depressed. And then my intestinal tract went haywire (early Celiac experience? I don’t know) and I excused myself to use the restroom. I was in there for 5-10 minutes, tops, and by the time I came back to Sammy’s room, she and Tim/Terry were making out and neither one of them even acknowledged my presence. It was bizarre and painful and humiliating. I got it, then. She had used me to gain access to this guy. She didn’t dislike him, she was a little obsessed with him. She had used me to make herself look good. And then she tossed me aside. In her pursuit of the almighty cock, she had made me her idiot. They were so wrapped up in each other, she didn’t even notice as I packed up everything of mine that had migrated over to her house (records, clothing, books, whatever) and carried it outside, where I called my mom from a pay phone and waited in the sub-freezing weather on the corner for my mom to give me, and my stuff, a sad ride back to my apartment.
That was the end of my friendship with Sammy.
But it was not the end of her influence in my life.
Because, after that incident, my mother and Sammy became great friends. Even though Sammy knew how terribly my mother had treated me, and even though my mother knew how terribly Sammy had treated me, and even though neither one of them would have met the other without my introduction, apparently *I* did not figure at all in their friendship. Sammy would go have dinner at my mother’s house and watch movies with my mom. When Sammy got pregnant (not from Tim), my mother threw her a baby shower. My mother went to Sammy’s wedding. My relationship with my mother deteriorated and deteriorated, and she just kept hanging out with my former friend, and didn’t see how that was a problem. I lost the friendship of Sammy’s sisters, who were loyal to her, but I also lost more and more of the relationship with my own mother, who was not at all loyal to me.