Fake Friends

You’re my friend? Really?

So, ever since we’ve become friends, I’ve footed the bill, bought things for you that you say you can’t afford… even though you and your husband both work full-time, and seem to have money for everything that catches your eye. Whatever…

I’ve always been generous because money isn’t a motivator to me. I LIKE buying things for people. And I’ve never expected anything from you until now. For some reason it’s too much to ask you to take a maximum of three boxes along with you in the massive truck you have rented to move with. No matter that I lived with you for several months to help you pay your mortgage even though I hated not having any privacy, and when I couldn’t take it anymore and moved out, you went on and on how you couldn’t afford your mortgage payments, and I felt bad for leaving and told you I’d pay the payments for six months while you guys got on your feet.

So, even though I couldn’t afford it, I paid your and my own rent, and went without groceries for months let alone anything else I wanted to buy. And now I need one favor and you’re hemming and hawing not sure whether you’ll have room blah blah blah. It’s funny that you have the room to pack the furniture you have been telling me you wanted ever since I bought it, and since I’m moving too, I gave in and told you to take them with you… you can just have them. I mean, I feel a little guilty saying that I’ve never wanted anything from you, and now I feel like I’m expecting payback for everything I’ve done for you.

So now I feel resentful because I feel that way. It’s a never-ending circle. I mean, I pay every time we go out to eat. It’s just become expected, even though you and your husband make at least three times the amount I do. I feel like I’m going to throw 10 years of friendship out the window because of these stupid things, but then I think: what am I exactly getting out of this relationship? Shouldn’t I at least be feeling like we’re actually friends? That’s all I ever wanted from you… a loyal friend.

You’re me me me attitude is beginning to get on my nerves. I just feel bad for you, because if we’re both honest, I’m the only actual friend you have that puts up with your nonsense. You always act like you’re doing me a favor if you drive me somewhere (cause I don’t have a car)… although I want to point out that you only pick me up when you’re the one going say to the grocery store. I would never presume to ask you to come pick me up to run errands just on the fly. You wouldn’t do it even if I asked you.

Oh, and remember that one time when my mother had a heart attack, and I had that young girl who didn’t have any place to go and was living with me, along with my sister, and I was paying my bills along with yours, and I needed 40 dollars to grab a bus home to see my mother in the hospital? I asked you if I could borrow it until the following week, and you barely let me finish when you told me no way. You didn’t have the money?????

Seriously? What’s wrong with me? Why do I pretend we’re best friends? You obviously could care less about me. —Just take the stupid boxes for God’s sake!!! It’s not that big a deal.

This article appears in Jun 17-23, 2010.