A few months ago, I fell out with a friend I grew close to in the last few years and have known since I was but a delightful and noisy nuisance at Tukombo Girls Secondary School, circa 2005-2008.
She asked me to block a love interest who’d spurned her, in solidarity. I said no. I had no bad blood with the fellow plus when you’re literally known for
thanosing blocking half your country-folk on twitter, what possible way is there for you to block someone without them thinking you consider them a twat?
And wouldn’t it be a dick move to block someone who, in their own way, defended you while strangers called you a mentally ill, ugly man even though he’s never met you and only experiences you through your stupid tweets?
I’m far from a saint but I do feel I can’t justify being an asshole unless it’s for good or if it’s to idiots who done tried the wrong bitch.
So I didn’t block him.
I didn’t think it was a big deal but she got weird after that and an unspoken friction began to cloud our friendship; manifesting into a lack of warmth in our texts, the total absence of gossip or sordid retellings of our perilous love/sex lives and on my part, disengagement.
I wish I could tell you this was a matter of maturity but the truth is I used the tension to take the coward’s way out of a relationship that I felt I didn’t bring enough to.
I was not a good friend to her; not during the friction nor when things had been swell between us. For instance, not once did I ever ask her, “Are you upset with me?” even though I knew she was. I never put on my big girl pants and told her, “Hey, I don’t think this is an appropriate reaction to this” or “Girl, that’s what dudes with girlfriends do. If you’re going to be a side chick, lower those expectations.” I didn’t tell her her recent passive aggressiveness towards me was mean or even the basic “Baby, we are grown.”
I was always terrified of her reaction and only knew how to be truthful in vague terms that I made sure could never offend her. It was like I was only capable of passionately agreeing with her or doublespeak when I disagreed.
We owe our friends our honesty and I’d never truly given her what she was owed even though she frequently extended me the gift of her true thoughts.
That’s not fair.
Love, in any form, is not a one way street. We can’t take from others what we will not give.
I’m no good at bullshit. So when she texted after months of silence; asking, “Did we fall out because I asked you to block that guy on twitter or were we ever even friends to begin with?”…I didn’t lie.
I didn’t tell the truth either (Of course I didn’t, I’m a pussy) but in my Dear John I said, less elegantly, “I’m not your friend.”