Like most adolescents, at times, I have trouble with my friends. Sometimes, I’m annoyed by their antics; sometimes, I’m unhappy about how they’ve changed since we first met and became close, so I distance myself; other times, I just want to throttle them. The third option was begging to be chosen at my party this past weekend.
I know what you’re thinking. Deviation leaves the house?! Well, yes, I do, and sometimes I actually plan events that my friends and I attend. Since the end of the school year, I was planning a big bash (big as in the number of people being in the double-digits, even if that meant only ten) for my friends. You see, I usually associate with those younger than me, for two main reasons. One, since I’m older, I have a bit more experience and authority, so not only can I order them to do my bidding give them advice without getting my throat cut, but they take me seriously. Two, I can act like a complete jackass (i.e. hyper as a hummingbird on crack), and everyone will just think I’m younger, and it’s excusable. So, because the past year was a lot of fun mostly because I hung out with them more (and decided to not give a shit about people I didn’t like), I threw a party. I planned it via Facebook (which I don’t recommend), and invited ten people.
Unfortunately, one problem with having younger friends is that plans almost always go awry. One boy never showed up, one girl was very late (although that was forgiveable), and two girls couldn’t make it but told me the day before or of the party. I’m used to this kind of mess-up, and enough people attended, so I was fine. So, my mom and her friend stayed with us in the adult version of Chuck E. Cheese; we ate, chatted, and ended up deciding to go the movies afterward. Both of the girls who were unable to attend were supposed to stay over for the night, and I thought it’d be cool if one of my other friends would be able to stay instead. While there, we talked it over and were able to get rides scheduled and such, so she was able to come over. Overall, the night was great, even if “You Don’t Mess with the Zohan” kinda sorta just plain sucked.
The one downer was a friend of mine who I’ve known since middle school. Back in the day, she was sweet, a bit eccentric, and had a messed-up family. As I got to know her, I found that she was pretty damn narcissistic, and took her anger concerning her family out on us, her friends. After I got severely burned by trying to “fix” her (i.e. help her with her problems, hence becoming too involved in her drama, issues, etc.), I distanced myself. She was one of those friends who I had to keep at an arm’s length because her self-destructive tendencies usually put us in bad spots; she also has a penchant for verbally ripping out your intestines when she’s in a bad mood (and that’s no fun!). Still, because I had known her for so long, we were still friends through it all, and she was fun to hang out with when kept at a distance, I invited her to my party.
I also invited her ex-girlfriend. Said ex-girlfriend is a nice girl, a sophomore who is, in a lot of positive ways, older than her years, and is a person I grew to really like and care for over the year. The two had dated for a total of four months on and off, and the relationship, as always with afore-mentioned friend, was rocky and full of drama. Luckily, through experience and maturity, I kept my nose out of the whole affair, and just listened if either one of them wanted to rant to me. (I’ve found I’m a great sound-board.) The relationship ended badly (as usual), and the two couldn’t even be cordial. I warned my friend to be polite to her, because this was my party, and she had to follow my rules (see: Stalin!Deviation, a story for later), and she had a tendency to be snippy and snobby towards people she didn’t like, even if it hurt the hostess’s feelings. and caused the hostess to go fucking batshit!
The party was fine until we headed to the movies. My friend’s new boyfriend drove her over and came to the movie with us, which I was fine with, and I checked with her ex to see if that was fine (which it was). Unfortuantely, as the night progressed, I became increasingly annoyed with my friend. For one, she was late to the movie, and I had to purchase tickets for her. Even though she paid me back, there was no need for her to stop at her house along the way. We waited for her outside for about ten minutes, and she still wasn’t there, so ex-girlfriend volunteered to hold onto the couple’s tickets and hand to them once they arrived. Finally, they got there, but my friend came up to me and asked, “Why did you let her stay out there and wait for us? She was pissy!”
Well, hon, you were late, and you know, it’s kind of annoying when you inconvenience other people.
When we were heading to the actual movie room, the ex-girlfriend went in a different direction by accident. What did my friend say? “Where is the little blonde bitch going?”
Throughout the movie, the couple was canoodling, which is fine if a bit over-the-top. Three-quarters through the movie, my friend leans over and says, “We have to stop and stay at my house.”
And your lovely Deviation replied, “Why?”
“It’ll be really quick, okay?”
Her boyfriend had generously volunteered to take ex-girlfriend, our friend, and I back to my house, since he lived nearby and it wasn’t out of his way. Still, my mother gets a little crazed if I’m home later than I first said (even if I call to let her know), and most likely thinks I’ve been abducted by octopus-esque aliens. Tentacle rape! So, because I didn’t want to be a bitch at my own party and her boyfriend had already been nice enough to take us home, I decided to just say “okay” and imply that we had to leave a few minutes after we arrived.
After the movie was over, we all headed over to her house, and, unfortunately, the ex-girlfriend felt uncomfortable upon arrival. (Also, it didn’t help that the boyfriend drove a bit crazily, but that’s beside the point.) I had not known this and would’ve just asked to be taken straight home, but it was already too late. We hung at her house for twenty minutes, watched Metalapocalypse (or however the fuck it’s spelled, the Adult Swim show with the band Dethklok), and waited for my friend and her boyfriend to stop being gross cute. The ex-girlfriend, though, refused to sit down or go up to my friend’s room because she really did feel fucking weird at her ex’s house. She explained later that she liked to distance herself from exes, which I wish I had known in the first place (argh!), but my friend’s behavior didn’t help.
”Hey, X, sit down!” While we were all watching the show-whose-name-I-can’t-spell, she was pressuring her visibly-uncomfrotable ex to sit on the couch with all of us. Mind you, my extremely tall, lanky male friend was stretched out and taking up about half of it, another friend was in the middle, and the couple was on the other end. Exacerbate the awkward, why don’t ya?
Then, my friend came up to me and whispered, “Why won’t she sit down?”
I gave her a “You’re kidding, right?” look and said, “She’s just feeling a bit uncomfortable. Let her be. We’re leaving in a little bit, aren’t we?”
“Well, she can at least sit down,” she replied tartly, and went back to nuzzling her boyfriend.
When we finally got around to leaving her house, my friend made absolutely sure to act like she and her boyfriend were in a symbiotic relationship; that is, she hung onto him and kissed him and hugged him until I seriously wanted to gut her for just being plain obnoxious. She’s gone through many a relationship, so I’m kind of armored against her usual shenanigans, but she was totally not getting that, you know, it’s kind of mean to do that to your visibly-uncomfortable ex, who is also your long-time friend’s (as in me) friend. Hey, at least make the effort…?
Once we left, everything was normal, and the ex-girlfriend no longer had to deal with my friend being insensitive as fuck.
Earlier that week, my friend was in a terrible mood accompanied by some emo moaning, and we (unfortunately) had a long conversation on AIM. She blamed her ex-girlfriend for turning all her friends against her, which implied that, of course, nothing was her fault and she never fucked up things with her friends by acting bitchy, mean, utterly narcissistic, etc. Because the girl’s on suicide watch half the time in my mind, I typed, as tactfully as possible, that her afore-mentioned assertion was utter bupkus and she had to start evaluating her actions. She also had to stop treating people badly.
Guess what happened? Everything I typed, all those lengthy paragraphs of pseudo-therapeutical analysis, they went over her head! I nearly busted a vein as she continued to groan about her shitty life.
My problem with this girl is that I still have this weird sophomoric view of her, in that I still feel this need to help her and fix her, even though she’s utterly broken and so self-absorbed that she can’t see beyond her own nose or viewpoints. I could’ve wrote in the IM, “You’re a selfish whore who needs a lot of therapy, so go get it and stop emoting at me!” She refuses any aid, and being honest with her is difficult because of her past self-destructive actions. In retrospect, the party was enjoyable and she was on good behavior for a good part of it, but it was difficult for me to hold my tongue and be a helpful hostess because of her. This is partially my fault for inviting her, but I told her, in plain words, that she must be polite to her ex. Of course, the opposite ended up happening. Because she’s so fucked up, I usually overlook her “stupidity,” especially because most of me is emotionally detached. It just annoys the living HELL out of me when people are so stuck on themselves that they don’t realize that they can hurt those they care for by going by their own rules, even if these rules are only a tiny bit skewed.
Now that I have a Narcissist Radar, I’m planning to avoid these types in college. Also, I’ve purged most of that “Oh, I gotta fix you, poor thing!” out of my body, and I plan on voicing my opinion a lot more. So, if you’re an asshat, you’ll be told so; I’ll be grinning.