It's the same old battle for me

Melanie vs. Scarlett. I want to be like Melanie Wilkes in Gone with the Wind. She was completely non-judgemental. She saw the best in everyone. She put others first and worked hard to make everyone around her happy and comfortable. To me, she is the embodiment of a woman who lives her Christian faith. But alas, too often my inner Scarlett makes an appearance. Willful, sharp-tongued, self-centered. 

Right now, when it comes to my oldest friend, Scarlett is winning.

About 10 days ago, I sent her this card. I know she's been struggling with health issues and emotional issues and now, even legal issues. Her landlady is trying to evict her. Inside, I wrote that I wanted her to know that whenever she's freaking out, to remember that I freak out, too. I thought she'd feel less isolated.

The words "Normalize Freaking Out" can be peeled off as a sticker

I have no idea how she feels about it. She never acknowledged it.

Then last Sunday morning I went to the ER. I had a severe reaction to a bug bite. I missed my oldest friend so much! First of all, I've known her since Kindergarten. Literally more than 60 years! I was scared and I longed for that continuity. Also, she took pre-med courses in college and worked in physicians' offices, so she speaks fluent doctor. I texted her first while I was waiting to be seen by the doctor. Then again as I was leaving because I thought, silly me, that she might be worried about me.

Yeah, right.

It took her five (5) hours to respond. By text. She predicted the welt would bust open like a zit. I explained that would never happen, that the NP said that the welt would just slowly shrink and go away. She told me to hang tight, that she would call me Monday.

Today is Saturday. She still hasn't called.

She did, however, send me a photo of Robert -- the man she met online, dated once and was told they could be friends but nothing more -- and his daughter headed on a vacation to Boston. She is in love with Robert and he's never going to love her and the whole thing is so sad. Why she thinks I care about the vacation plans of Robert and his daughter is beyond me.

She's been busy on her Tumblr page, posting cat photos and links to pornographic fan fiction stories about (wait for it) Paul McCartney and John Lennon as young men fucking. Complete with lube and dog collars. Under other circumstances, I would find this very funny. After all, for decades she insisted that Barry Manilow was not only straight but a Lothario who left a legion of lady loves weak in the knees. She would get angry at me when I'd tease that she was the only one on the planet who thought he was hetero. In my oldest friend's worldview, The Beatles are gay and the man who sang "Copacabana" in a ruffled shirt was straight. Okeedokee.

But here's the thing: My oldest friend has always been a prude and a bit of a homophobe. Now all of a sudden she gets off on sub-dom gay porn? I'm afraid this means her mental state is devolving, especially when placed in context of recent events.

•  In June, she emailed me that her phone was lost, then found 10 miles away. She said she was on her way to pick it up. That made me happy. My friend has serious health problems and shouldn't be without her phone. Next day she reported the phone had been in her bathroom all along. I replied, "So your bathroom is 10 miles away?" She ignored me.

•  In July, she cancelled the trip to Chicago she had been planning. No big deal, I suppose. Except she waited so long to change her mind that I'm out $170 for the hotel and a week's pay at the card shop (I put in for time off and it was too late for me to change it).

Most of all, I'm mad. I'm mad that she can't be bothered to acknowledge my card or check on my well being because smut about Paul taking it up the ass from John* is more important.

I'm mad that she she got herself into this mess. This move to from Chicagoland to Southern California, which she made by choice, has been a disaster. She's broke. She's isolated. She has allowed herself to self-destruct. How could someone I love so much value herself so cheaply?

All that she could help. Then there's the stuff she can't help. She has kidney trouble, mobility issues, diabetes and a bad heart, and suffers from depression. When I remember that, I get mad at myself for being mad.

Melanie Wilkes wouldn't be mad. Melanie Wilkes would pick up the phone and call her.

I think some of my anger is borne of mourning Henry and John. I am helpless to protect people I love and that's painful and frustrating.

But most of it is that I am furious at her clinging tight to any flotsam and jetsam that floats by (her cousin Sharon, Robert, her online Beatle fan fiction community) and throwing the good bits (me) away.

That's pure Scarlett, isn't it? I can't help it. Right now, I'm not sure I want to.

 

 

*I oversimplify. In some of the stories, John takes it up the ass from Paul. Why a 67-year-old heterosexual woman would suddenly enjoy this is beyond me. If a man were stimulated by these stories, I'd understand. But I never have sex fantasies that don't star me. Maybe that's the Scarlett in me, too.