OK, so after all my Facebook sermons on reaching out, I have been a hub of connection. An old friend with whom I used to wait tables with about 4 lifetimes ago sent me a message. She now lives in England and I have not seen or actually spoken to her (outside of FB) in at least 8 years.
That message came at the perfect moment in my life. It made me smile. It made me cry.
It was about what our friendship was, how she reads my blog religiously and gets her laughs daily. It’s how she has kept tabs on me as I have kept them on her. It was long and thoughtful, honest and spot on.
One line she wrote really hit me. It’s so totally true. And it wasn’t written to be mean, just an honest assessment of what kind of friend I am.
“You were one of the nicest, truest, meanest friends I have ever had…”
I knew just what she meant but had never quite heard it that way before.
If I am your friend, I will bend over backwards for you. I will have your back. I will love you to pieces and we will have a fucking blast together. But, I will laugh at you at your expense. I will make fun of you. Just as I make fun of myself (see this entire blog) you are not off limits either. That’s the deal. Many accept it and love it. We throw it back and forth like a game of hot potato. Many wind up hating me. I have tried to curb it and tone it down, but that is as much a part of who I am as my uterus is. It’s just part of the package. It’s my special way of showing love, it means that I like you and respect you enough to laugh at your shit too. You’re Welcome. Those that know me, know it. I like thick skin. We are all flawed and fucked up and at times are perfect targets for the butt of a great joke. I will capitalize on that, I guarantee it.
You see, I know I am an asshole and that I am terribly flawed, but I also know that I am a good person and true friend. For example, If you fall down the stairs, I will laugh at you, then I will drive you to the hospital, ask the doctors questions like “will this effect her vagina or long term ability to give blow jobs?” just to make you laugh while you’re getting your head x-rays. Then I’ll take you out for dinner so we can laugh about it and then I’ll go home and write a blog on what a wonderful retard you are. Believe me, I expect the same in return. It goes both ways. If I say something stupid or have made a grave mistake when choosing my outfit for the day have at it. If you disagree with something I say, dig in and have some fun with it. I am cool with the fact that I am a perfect target at times, take your best shot. It’s OK. I have many friends that operate on that same principle. I have a friend that used to fuck with me so hard at work he would actually bring me to tears. He was so talented that way. But I love him dearly. It’s part of the deal.
There are many friends that will sit beside me and shed tears of laughter at my imagined monologue delivered to someone else, but when they are the subject of the joke, I am suddenly an insensitive monster. Whateves.
That’s the nature of the beast I suppose, but I cannot please everyone. If you are a friend of mine, I’m sure you have a story or two you can recall where I did something to fuck with you, but that shit was funny!
So I guess that’s what the friend who I will refer to as little rimmer meant. Nicest, truest, meanest. I can live with that. I guess she could too.
The difference between being a mean bitch and a funny bitch is that it’s based on observation not judgement. Period. Sometimes the line gets blurry, I admit. But a leopard can’t change it’s spots, just as I cannot change the fact that I’m wired to laugh at shit. For that reason, I will be back here day after day making fun of myself, just as my friend will always have to live with the nickname little rimmer.
Agree? Disagree? Thoughts?