Upon discovery, I emailed my mom to share the good news:

[Bestest Friend] is my emergency contact at work. So … if I drop dead or something, expect to receive the news from her.

I didn’t remember listing my Bestest Friend as my emergency contact until I checked my company profile today, saw her name and remembered how, when I was filling out the form over two years ago, we were emailing back and forth and I said, “I’m going to list you as my emergency contact!” and she was all, “Ooo, yes! Do it!”

I find it awesome; my mom asked if she could perhaps advocate for another choice.


Had a discussion with a friend. This was a few weeks ago. I’ve tried writing about it, even have a few drafts waiting, unfinished, in a desktop folder, but none of them are right. The discussion did not go well, at least on my side. She may have had a different take on it, or perhaps not, since I didn’t bend to her will or come out seeing her as the innocent victim, as she had predetermined her role whereas I was the evil one, the one who done her wrong. She was outright mean and passively manipulative; I didn’t like that side of her as a person, and I don’t like thinking about it, much less writing it. I’m just kinda done and it/she doesn’t really deserve more time and attention than that.

Maybe someday I’ll finish one of the drafts because the things she would say … oh, Internet, I wish you were there, standing behind her, so I could have had a rational someone over her shoulder – and maybe slightly to the left so as to not be obvious – at whom to roll-my-eyes throughout the twists she took my words. Ok, I lied just then, I really didn’t want someone for eye-rolls, I wanted someone to watch in amazement and say, preferably with grandiose arm waving, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS BULLSHIT.

Based on the few times I’ve met her, she’s a great person, truly, I really like her, but I am almost completely positive that she hates me – justifiably so, I would hate her if positions were reversed – considering that each time I’ve met her, we’ve been drinking and after a few cocktails, I completely forget to pay attention to the group as a whole and instead just blatantly flirt with her boyfriend.

Work Boyfriend should know better than to bring her home for long weekends; I make an ass out of myself EVERY TIME.

Finally emailed Mr. Brown. He responded, quickly, and added a facebook-friend invite, which I appreciate in a guy because then I can be the creeper undercover-like –acting so stealthy I should be wearing a trench-coat and monocle.

Besides being a REPUBLICAN and signing his FIRST AND LAST NAME to an email REPLY and giving me a TOLL-FREE PHONE NUMBER that is not the same as the cell his grandmother gave me, he seems … and I want to be careful with this because I don’t actually believe this to be true, but you know, first impressions … relatively NORMAL.

I KNOW, right? When does that HAPPEN?

He has a CAREER that he LIKES, participates in EXTRACURRICULAR activities and is social with his FAMILY and FRIENDS. And, Internet, the weirdest part: he’s actually CUTE.

Unfortunately the whole living-in-Chicago thing puts a damper on identifying exactly how he is not normal (besides evidence listed above), but for now, I have a penpal and that’s kinda fun.

Our card game categories used to involve vital topics like brands of pot or sex positions. The category on Saturday: Supreme Court Justices. What’s worse is that everyone was all, oo, good category! and then proceeded to give commentary when a Judge was named, Oh that bastard is such a constitutionalist! My little friends, they always surprise me.

“And on Saturday, you can be my beer pong partner!”

“… but I suck at beer pong.”

“Then we all win!”

I finally responded to her. Since The Firefighter’s Quest for The Holy Grail, she, the object of their desire, has been sending me texts for happy-hours and dinners, taking on the tone of the I miss you! Your house was so fun! We need to hang out more! quality.

Which is complete bullshit.

So I have ignored them. If the tone was different, I might’ve considered a different reaction. Maybe. But, whatever, it’s bullshit, and my bullshit tolerance has been low lately.

When texts weren’t delivering her desired results, she sent an email last week, asking for my schedule to arrange a dinner, saying that she wanted to nail me to a date before hitting up the other two girls.

The other two girls, well, they are on my side. If anything, they are less willing to forgive her than I am, and however cliquey and high-school that may be, I find it touching. During my processing of the little incident, one of the girls had informed me, “Mols, she might control all the guys, but you’re the leader for the girls – you know that, right? You’re the one that ties us together; you’re the only one that all of us would be comfortable hanging out one-on-one.” Well, shit – that’s sweet to say, and no, I never thought about it quite like that. I then immediately started plotting ways to use my power for evil and shun her like a leper (kidding) (mostly).

I’ve been trying to disperse any sources of negative energy (how new-agey does that sound?), and if I were to continue to avoid, I knew the negativity would liger. So my response was short and sweet (she has yet to have the balls to call me, so I follow suit), saying that the next month at least was going to be really busy and I didn’t have any available time. To be clear: I’m not holding a grudge, I’ve just been enlightened as to her person, and I don’t feel the need to associate myself with that negativity, especially when I have other friends, amazing friends, who love me and are truly awesome to me.

My evasive too-busy-to-hang email received a reply (dammit): “Yeah I understand the busy schedule thing. It’s hard to make room for “free time”. I also get if you can’t plan for a girls night anytime in the next month. I would like to see YOU though, sometime. Even if just for lunch one day during the week. I feel like we were a bit disconnected last time I saw you and I didn’t like that. Let me know if you can squeeze me in.”

After careful consideration and in the interest of being up front and honest, I wrote back, with what most would call common sense, “The disconnect was because I was uncomfortable watching you move in on a guy I had slept with. My friends don’t do that. It’ll be fine, we’ll be ok, I just need some time.”

Was probably a bad idea; I’ll let you know if I receive a response.

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