The end

Last night sucked.

I went out with some old school friends for christmas drinks. Well, that was the plan.

Here’s what happened instead.

I got a text in the morning from Sally, telling me she’d pick me up between five and half past six. Which is an hour and a half’s potential waiting time, but whatever. I got ready and was good to go by six o’clock.

At eight o’clock she showed up. The response to my text message around seven fifteen asking if she was okay (I thought she must have crashed on the way over or something) was met with the usual mocking jibe about me being a control freak.

So in other words, the night was off to a great start!

I have to work tonight, so while I was happy to have a few drinks, I didn’t really want to get that drunk. So of course, the six of us settled down around the table and it was decided by Sally and one of her uni friends that we were going to play a drinking game. Sally mixed the drinks, which I later found out were about fifty-fifty vodka and soft drink.

To make an unpleasant story short, I lost the game.

Hammered off my face something terrible, the events of the night began their course.

The three major fuck ups were 1) someone dared me to walk down the street, minus shirt and bra. And I did it. 2) My highly conservative, slightly homophobic, very christian female friend Elise kissed me. I’ve never really thought that much about what my first kiss would be like, but I didn’t really want it to be like that. It was kind of extremely weird, and I won’t be doing it again in a hurry.
And number 3) I accidentally told Sally the truth that had been on my mind for a while. Well, the drunken, sloppy, poorly edited version of the truth. And she didn’t take it well.

That truth was this: everything about that night was wrong, and we had grown apart. At uni, my friend Sally had transformed into the kind of person I would normally take great steps to avoid. Just loud, and kind of crazy, with zero inhibitions. She’s a nice person, but I need to feel in control and have some string of rational thought to hold on to. Sally doesn’t like this, and she’s very quick to criticise. Being the loudest person in the room, her criticism tends to stick.

I hate getting drunk, for the reason that beyond feeling incredibly sick, alcohol has the magical power of transforming my usual state of smart ass into a whiny, obnoxious bitch. Ordinarily I refuse to let anyone help me with anything, because I value my independence above nearly anything else. When I’m drunk, that goes out the window, and I become one of those pathetic, needy people that usually irritate me.

I hate the person that I am when I’m drunk, but lately it’s gotten to the point where the only way I can hang out with Sally and co. is by becoming that person. The person I really am isn’t the person they want me to be. It’s like when I’m around them I just can’t get anything right.

It’s not their fault. It’s a part of growing up: you also grow apart.

But Sally didn’t take that very well.

Eventually, she and the others left the house we were hanging out at and went to a pub. They left me behind. Looking at the inevitable shit storm to come, I decided to bail. I got in a taxi and went home.

This morning, I woke up tot a text message from Sally and co. informing me that I had been a real dick last night, and they were rather disappointed in me, and that if I was going to behave like that again they weren’t going to invite me out anymore.

Here is the problem the way I see it.

When I was a little girl, there was a sad moment when none of my friends wanted to play imaginary games anymore, and I was left on my own. This is exactly like that, but the other way around. I’ve become the one sick of playing the dumb teenage game where we make shit choices and pretend that means we’re grown up. I want to take control of my life and be an actual real grown up. But my friends don’t. Fair enough, that’s their choice, but the tension that hung around when we were kids becoming teens is the same now, as we try to become adults.

The difference between now and then however, is that now I can do something about it.

So I wrote Sally back, apologising for any offence I had caused and trying to explain the above as best I could. And then I agreed that I shouldn’t go out with them anymore.

Something about finally getting this niggling feeling out in the open is such a relief. Quite frankly, this is a long time coming. Anyone whose read my blog before knows I’ve had problems with my so called friends this year. And last year come to think of it. We were never going to be friends forever, and we’ve hit that point where now it’s time to face it.

I’m tired of being made to feel like shit because of being the way I am. I’m tired of being let down and mocked. And I’m sure my old friends are tired of me being a buzz kill and always ruining the mood.

A clean cut is better for everyone involved.

I’ve said before about my love for finding symbolic actions in my day to day life. All part of the narcissistic belief I think we all harbour about being the lead character in our own novel.
One year ago, at our last christmas party, Sally gave me a friendship bracelet. I’ve had it tied around my ankle every say since. Last night, I chopped it off.

Cut the ties, let it go. It’s time to move on.

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