Thursday, January 5, 2012

Things They Need to Hear Thursday: "Why am I Your Friend?" Edition

Over the Christmas holidays I spent an inordinate amount of time with my best friend (The Pretty One) and basically I just spent a lot of the time wondering why things aren't different. I mean, I love her to death and I don't mean for any of this to be offensive; it just boggles my mind how little she's changed since I met her. I know it hasn't been that long, but I still thought there could be a marked difference in how our nights out go. The times we spend hanging out, just the two of us, always go really well and do a lot to make up for the ridiculousness that happens once we get in public. 

A few days before Xmas we decided to go out to a local bar (read: NOT a club) to just hang out. I had told my mom and my aunt they should meet us there when they were done with their wrapping extravaganza. Then I learned that my high school boyfriend (TheSemen(and cliched first love that I can't seem to quit)) was in town visiting and was out with Eye Candy and Alex (who gets no nickname) so I told them they should come by too. We had a regular reunion going on; TheSemen was about to throw up, Eye Candy was wasted, and The Pretty One was making sexytime eyes at everything with a penis...just like old times. 

Eye Candy and Alex left. Then, some random guy walked over to the table to hit on my mom (yes, this happens a lot). He kept introducing himself ("I'm Tim") every 12 seconds and, honestly, it was completely irritating. My mom and my aunt decided to flee (lucky bitches) and I was back where I always am: completely sober, trying to keep TheSemen from puking on himself and The Pretty One from fucking anything (you know that song from The Sound of Music about solving a problem like Maria? That's my life with The Pretty One only with trying to keep her from being raped or raping). 

Now it was just TheSemen, The Pretty One and me (like Rainbow Connection!); plus this drunk, redneck mofo and his friend he called over. So, I've got TheSemen in the parking lot throwing up and these two assholes (Tim and Tom(seriously)), and The Pretty One being all white girl wasted. TheSemen and I come back inside to see that Tim & Tom have relocated to our table and The Pretty One is leaning on Tim and he's got his hands down the front of her pants. We are in a bar. There are lights on. This isn't some shitty club with strobe lights and a DJ who won't shut up; it's a sports bar/restaurant. I am mortified. Then she switches to making out with Tom while Tim gropes her. IN A WELL LIT PLACE. I let her get her skank on for a while and just hang around with TheSemen.

After about two hours, she's making out with Tom and knocks over a glass. This is too much attention for my social anxiety so TheSemen and I go outside with her and her harem trailing. Tim is completely shit faced, but gets behind the wheel of his car anyway (I scope out the license plate # to call the cops if he actually intends on driving, that's how I roll). Tom gets in with him and they pull up in front of us. The Pretty One walks over to the car and leans in the window to mack some more on this nasty dude. He proceeds to PULL HER IN THE FUCKING WINDOW and take off. Not in a jokey way either, I literally had to chase them down and force them to pull over. I could not believe that was the thanks I got for babysitting her ass all night.

This got a lot longer than I expected, so I'll have to tell you more The Pretty One stories at a later date. Here is the actual TTNtHT "letter" to her:

Dear The Pretty One,

I wish I knew what your issue is; could pinpoint it. You know I love you more than most people, but still you baffle me. I know in high school it was the norm to hinge self-worth on whether or not a dude liked you back or not, but at this juncture, it is rapidly approaching sad. It is as if you have no sense at all of what is appropriate behavior for not only your environment, but your intentions. You have to stop being surprised when things don't go your way. You don't even nudge them in the right direction; you just barrel along until you hit that wall of self loathing and shatter, leaving me to pick you back up again.


1 comment:

  1. I work at a bar. "The Pretty one" are a dime a dozen. It is really sad. She is lucky to have a friend that will look out for her, a lot of those girls don't.