Hold an Old Friend’s Hand
June 14th, 2006
Well, no double pink lines yet. And it doesn’t look like there are going to be, praise whoever. But what’s totally bizarre is that I was kind of oddly disappointed, and yet, completely relieved.
There is honestly no way to win.
But what that means is that my hormones are basically out of control which: hate. And also: fat and bloated. And – ooh ooh, my favorite: HUNGRY.
Yesterday I opted for a super late breakfast thinking because I am a whale, that I’d just cruise right through the whole day, given that I had my brunch (a half of a bagel with cream cheese) at 11 a.m. I was doing SO WELL, you know, throughout the day on no sustenance, drinking cup after cup of coffee and praying for someone – anyone – to drop an entire crate full of fen phen, or even carrots or…something…when I couldn’t take it anymore. I was driving home (at 3:30, mind you, because my job is just that exhausting) when I suddenly found myself in the McDonald’s drive -thru, and before I knew it, I was down an entire Quarter Pounder with cheese, french fries and hot mustard sauce, and a diet Coke. You know, to save calories.
I ate all of this in approximately 2.5 seconds, and was COMPLETELY satisfied before I even knew what hit me. And when I say 2.5 seconds, I mean, honestly, that the McDonald’s is 2 blocks away from my house, and by the time my car pulled into the garage, I was done. Not even a crumb. 2.5 seconds.
And then I started crying, because I am a horse. And then, to make matters worse, I LIED ABOUT IT. I walked in with a McDonald’s cup and said I’d stopped for a quick soda, when Adam eyed me suspiciously.
“Just a soda!”
And then I got busted, because a) I am a HORRIBLE liar even though this one I half-believed, given that if you’d BLINKED, you’d have missed the shoving of the Quarter Pounder down my preternaturally wide gullet, and b) there was mustard on my shirt. Like, all over it. In large, blobbing blobs, all fresh-like and smelly, like infant poop.
So yeah. Period. Hormones. Quarter Pounder. Horse.
In other, equally exciting news, I am also a complete social dullard. Yes! Dullard! And also, picky! And did you know that trying to make friends is like dating? Because it is exactly like that. Exactly. There is this woman I know who is actively trying to be my friend, and, well, I don’t like her. And I PROMISED myself that I would try. Try, because I need to stop being so judgy and annoying because someone I meet isn’t one of my longtime friends, or even remotely like them. Because I need to accept that people aren’t going to be like the people I know in Boston, and I just need to accept them for who they are, and enjoy them, or so my therapist tells me.
Except: No, thank you.
This woman is coming on too strong, and we need to slow down the relationship. She calls A WHOLE LOT, and by a whole lot, I mean every day. More than once. And when I say no, I can’t do something, because, most of the time, I ACTUALLY CAN’T, because I have something I have to do, she pushes. “Oh, come on! What do you have to do? You don’t have any friends here, you told me! Blow off the work you have! Blow off Adam! Who needs to walk the dog? GO CAMPING WITH ME!”
First off, shut up about the no friends. Yes, I don’t have friends here, but mercifully, I have many other places. So, no. Just no. And secondly, um, camp? CAMP? I don’t camp. Like, ever. I’d like to think I’m all rugged and shit, but the very idea of going camping at all, much less here, where there are alligators and mosquitos and snakes and black widow spiders and scorpions and iguanas and SEARING HEAT gives me the heebs, and going camping with a woman who will not shut up under ANY HUMAN CIRCUMSTANCES, and tries to manipulate me into going camping is, well, my idea of the ninth level of hell.
So I’m trying to let her down easy, and it ain’t going well. I’ve had to turn off my cell phone – yes, TURN OFF, for extended periods of time, my cell phone. God help us, but how do you tell someone you don’t want to date them, when they are already married, and it’s not dating? But I don’t want to date her! UNCLE! I would rather stay home alone! I AM HAPPY THERE.
Last night, I talked to one of my favorite people in the entire world – someone I literally saw and/or talked to *every day* while I lived in Boston, and I love her to bits, to the point that it might be scaring her, because I am love-bombing her hourly, but really – she’s that awesome, and I miss her more than most people, because, again: every day. For two full hours last night, I talked to her – I mean, I cackled like I haven’t cackled in years. I was myself, live and in person, err, voice, to one of those people who really knows me, and I really know, and we really like each other and GOD, it’s been so long since I had that in person, I could cry at the memory, but it felt SO GOOD, because I miss her and it was so fun and, well, I smiled all day.
And the timing of that absurdly long talk was perfect, as it reminded me that I can’t settle, because I know what the real thing is, because I have it somewhere else, and I need to break up with the Desperado. I just can’t date when I have no intention of getting serious. I’d never talk to her if I moved back, or miss her desperately the way I do Ann and Erica and Eve, and for the frillionth time, I DO NOT CAMP, nor do I like being pushed into doing something. So no.
Conversely, there is this woman at the health food store that I am interested in, and I *think* she’s interested in me, but I think we’re too chicken to take it to the next level. We chat for at least 10-15 minutes every time I go to get my daily soup and water, and – drum roll – she’s from Boston and moved here a month after I did. And she lives under an anti-abortion billboard and hates it, and she loves my t-shirt that says “Your Body is a Battleground” and she’s funny and sarcastic and GAH, today – TODAY, she started to mention something about “forming a support group” for displaced and miserable Democratic Bostonians which would have been THE PERFECT SEGUE and we both knew it and then there was THAT MOMENT, and then another customer came along and I RAN AWAY, because I am shy, and also, weird.
I ran away from an opportunity to ask this woman OUT ON A DATE. I ran away and that moment, it may never pass this way again.
To recap: Hate. Fat. Bloated. Hungry. Freak.
*Tiffany. Dude, it’s from her SECOND ALBUM, which I totally had, and I saw her in concert and tried to stalk her on mall tours, and SERIOUSLY: Tiffany. Much better than Debbie Gibson who is an asshole. I met her in Petco once and it wasn’t pretty. I didn’t recognize her and was all casual and friendly because she had a cute dog and that’s the only reason, and she was, in a nutshell, FURIOUS WITH ME because of it. Seriously. There was acting out and stomping – ACTUAL STOMPING AROUND THE STORE because I was all casual, but again – I didn’t recognize her. Debbie Gibson = NUTJOB (or, as I originally wrote, nutjub, if you prefer.)
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
30 Comments Add your own
1. Yez | June 14th, 2006 at 8:20 pm
Debbie Gibson? In Peabs?? BWAAAAhahahaha!
Totally go back to the health food store and remind PotentialGirlDate of her wickit ossum idear
She’ll be flattered and relieved, and you’ll be relieved and proud, and we’ll all be in stitches at your rendition of the freakyhorseyhungryshyness of it all.
And I have set a new Personal Best on failing your security code thingywhatzis. Am lame. Also am never expecting caPitaL leTteRs to be interspersed. %-} Also persistently type said code v e r y s l o w l y … into the Search box. Yes.
2. Jurgen Nation | June 15th, 2006 at 4:13 am
Jonniker, there are SO MANY things on which I want to comment that I am nearly having a panic attack. I’m late for work!! I shall comment more later, but I nearly died reading this post because are we the same person? Share DNA? Conjoined at one time? Because, damn. More from me latah.
3. winterwheat | June 15th, 2006 at 4:23 am
I love this post. I too have that t-shirt and AM WEARING IT RIGHT NOW!!! I slept in it last night. Oh, and I also have nerve issues with the friend-date thing. I usually solve it by never being the aggressor. The reason is that I am a terrible judge of potential friends. Potential boyfriends, no problem whatsoever. But potential friends, ugh. I’m like the woman you know who never says no to guys who ask her out, who keeps getting involved with guys who do not have her best interest at heart, etc — except switch the gender. I would have accepted the woman’s offer, but suggested something other than camping because I hate it too. So I admire you for resisting; it’s as healthy to be selective about potential friends as it is to be selective about potential boyfriends/husbands. And now that you and the cool woman have established a good rapport, why don’t you suggest something next time you see her, in a natural flowy way? If she says yes, you can see how things progress from there. It doesn’t have to be all-or-nothing.
4. jonniker | June 15th, 2006 at 5:32 am
Yez: Well, it was TOTALLY Peabs, of course. And awful. Debbie Gibson. Jerk. She was with an infant pug named Mitch.
JN: Yes. I’ve thought this before reading your blog! Cannot wait to hear more.
K: OMG, I did go out with her once. I only wish I were that strong. There was close talking, Janice-like laughing, and gory, non-stop details about her life (sans a single statement lobbed in my direction, not even “How are you today?”), and the entire time, I kept glancing around hysterically, wondering, “Am I in a Seinfeld episode?”
5. Kathryn | June 15th, 2006 at 5:59 am
F it sister! That chickalita has so many problems, and she thinks that if she lures you into her unholy web of sickness, she will be validated. No one else in her life will enable her, so she’s got to get some fresh meat, and she’s set her sights on you. Of course she is trying to manipulate you, she will do or say whatever it takes to get you to do what she wants. It will never end.
It is very difficult, but you must fortify your mind, take a deep (deep, deep, deep) breath and tell her that you don’t want her to call you anymore. When she asks why, tell her because you don’t like her now, and you never will. You’ve only been talking to her to be nice. She will likely cry and have a strong emotional reaction that is intended to stir feelings of sorrow and regret in you, to the point that you will apologize and take it all back. Be strong and do not cave. She is selfish and only cares about herself. She is not like you, she is not a nice person. She is friendless for a reason.
Get her out of your life. This sounds harsh because it is. You are not responsible for her reaction. The is no really nice way to handle this.
I’ve been through this, and it sucks, but I was SO much happier when I was done. I’d liberated myself
6. Jamie | June 15th, 2006 at 7:34 am
Who names their pug “Mitch?!” That’s like buying a teacup chihuahua and naming it “Biff,” or “Rambo.” Deborah Gibson is clearly an asshole.
7. Amy K | June 15th, 2006 at 7:50 am
I can totally identify with your situation. My husband and I moved to Seattle a couple of years ago without knowing a soul here…and we still barely know a soul because we’re so freakin’ bad at going out and meeting people. That few we did think of as potential friends all had these fatal flaws, like never once offering to help pay for a meal if we all went out together multiple times, or B.O. so terrible that I’d go through an entire BOTTLE of Febreeze trying to get the stench out of my couch. Seriously. And the worst part is, I know there are plently of cool people here. I mean, it’s Seattle. Liberal hotbed! Hippies!! Brainiacs!!! (We’re not screwed in that department like you are in Florida.) It’s to the point where I’m plotting ways to meet potential friends, much like I plotted creative new ways to meet boys back in junior high. When did it suddenly get so tough to meet interesting people? It used to be so easy a few years ago in college, and then BLAM! – you graduate, move to a new town and become a shut-in.
8. Jen W. | June 15th, 2006 at 8:39 am
What’s a nutjub?
Juuuust kidding.
Debbie Gibson sucks.
9. Claire | June 15th, 2006 at 8:48 am
oh, i know. Meeting new people is a scary, scary, task that is usually as painful as ripping out your left eye. I have a few of those friends that don’t go away, but really REALLY want to reach out and i just don’t have the heart to tell them to fuck off.
Actually, i have found that never returning calls and ignoring them works wonders. There was a girl, Michelle, who was so incredibly neurotic and pushy that i didn’t know what to do with her. She would call and COME OVER without calling and ask me all of these weird personal questions. Finally seems she’s lost my phone number, so i’m in the clear.
Hang on to the health-food store girl, she sounds like a winner. Ask her out to dinner and movie. : )
10. jonniker | June 15th, 2006 at 8:48 am
K: I love your forthrightness. You sure you don’t want to come down here? It’s not far.
Jamie, honestly, I howled at your comment. My favorite part was “Deborah,” which of course, is how she must be known. Did you know, also, that she is freakishly short, in addition to being an asshole?
Amy: Totally. I think no matter where you are, it’s hard. And um, Febrezed the couch? Seriously? That is, quite possibly, the most petrifying thing I’ve heard in a long time. MY GOD.
Jen, I fixed it. Oh my God, sorry. But funny. Jub!
Claire: What? WHAT? Come OVER? Without calling? I’m boggled. And also thanking Jesus that this woman does not know where I live.
11. Whinger | June 15th, 2006 at 8:52 am
Slightly off-topic to this post, but I’m thinking still on-topic in your brain: There’s a good article on Slate about the pros and cons of having kids. It almost convinced me I want a runt.
http://www.slate.com/id/2143659/fr/nl/
12. -R- | June 15th, 2006 at 8:56 am
I am going through the same thing in finding friends. It sucks that I already have such wonderful friends so I know what friendship can be, but my wonderful friends live across the country. Aargh. It makes me feel better to know other people are dealing with this too.
I still like Debbie Gibson better than Tiffany, even if she is a crazy person. Did she start humming “Electric Youth” to give you a hint?
13. Jess | June 15th, 2006 at 9:13 am
Oh, god. I’m the same way. I’m HORRIBLE at making new friends–because why bother? I already have tons of friends . . .why make more? Plus, they won’t be as nice or as cool as the ones I already have, right? This might be a New England thing—I’m a Bostonian, too. Also? The only way to eat a Quarter Pounder is quickly, and in your car. That’s just the way it’s done.
14. Christine | June 15th, 2006 at 9:29 am
Oh, so with you on the period. And the HUNGER. And hormones. My boyfriend joked the other day, “God what are you pregnant?”…I nearly bit off his head as I told him, “YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE! also, pass the chocolate. Asshat.”…Best girlfriend ever awards, look no further.
And the “pushy” wannabe friends are never the ones who make the cut. But I don’t have any friends who I haven’t known for years. Thankfully a few of them still live a reasonable distance away.
15. Lawyerish | June 15th, 2006 at 10:30 am
I am hugging my monitor after reading this post. Every word of it = absolute truth. I think it’s clear that you should move to NYC. Immediately.
Barring that – um, ixnay on the ampingcay! Doesn’t this woman realize that friendships have to progress at a certain rate? And that rate does not involve overnight trips for at least a solid, I don’t know, YEAR or so? Especially overnights involving tents? Because overnights with girls can be WAY more treacherous than overnights with newish guys. The judging of each others’ eating and hygiene habits, the suppressing of natural bodily, um, exhalations for the duration of the trip. Not to mention that she is clearly not getting the “No thanks!” vibe. Ugh. So painful. I think you play it like a guy and just fail to return calls as long as possible.
As for the hormones thing, I have noticed that my PMS symptoms have gotten way more severe in the last year or two. The hunger is truly astonishing. It creeps up on you, and then announces itself with the subtlety of a gorilla crashing through the room. MUST EAT. MUST EAT NOW. INHALE COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SALT. NOW. It’s really very unbecoming – I find myself going to the vending machines like 5 times in quick succession and skittering back to my office with yet another bag of Combos in my hand. (And the Combos? VERY tasty.)
16. jonniker | June 15th, 2006 at 11:07 am
Whinge: Lord, now I want to run right out IMMEDIATELY and get pregnant so that I can discuss ‘War and Peace’ with my daughter.
-R-: HA! No, but when I introduced myself, because I was attacking Mitch with kisses, she stepped back and said, “I’m Deborah” with this look of absolute indignation. When I was all, “Hi, Deborah!” and still clueless, she stomped off angrily, and I KEPT RUNNING INTO HER in the whole store which led her to believe – I promise – that I was stalking her, and by the time we reached the checkout counter, she was actually outrunning me, and then, finally, the checkout girl recognized her and I was honestly in hysterics, becauase again – what an asshole. Which set her off even more, and she peeled out of the parking lot in a fury. Someone (who had an identical experience in another state) later told me that she does this a lot, and that my experience – gasp! – is not unique.
Jess: Mmmm, Boston. Do not wish for temperate climates, because it is not all that it’s cracked up to be. Now go to the Common and talk about Democratic agendas freely, just because you can.
Christine: Ah, the hunger. And ‘asshat’ is a favorite word of mine.
Lawyerish: Yes! OMG, your comment made me howl. The vending machine trips! And that is exactly why I don’t want to camp! You nailed it! And a year is SO the bare minimum before overnighting it. Also: I adore Combos. Pizza pretzel is my favorite. I do not understand the cracker-type ones.
17. Jes | June 15th, 2006 at 11:51 am
Ahh…the Desperado. I had a friend like that once. Um. I still have a friend like that. Egad. I hope I’m never that “friend” to anybody else. Perhaps a self-check is in order.
Also: Boston. I visited Boston last year for the first time, like, EVAH. And I have these observations to share with you: A) All the girls have fun coats; and B) All the girls have skinny legs.
Entries about Boston:
Top Ten Reasons to Move to Boston
Agent Double-Oh-Legs
18. Sian | June 15th, 2006 at 12:26 pm
Hey, it does get better. My move has recently passed the year status and I would say that I have one or two friends now. Just one or two, but so much better than none. Hang in there kid! And never ever settle.
19. Yez | June 15th, 2006 at 12:53 pm
Okay, I can’t resist. I’m obligated to comment again just because the word verification is ta2t2, and since Xan isn’t here to use it, I have to :>
Love the “Desperado” handle! I had a guy friend like that {{shudder}} and I eventually referred to him as the emotional black hole….
20. GuinnessGirl | June 15th, 2006 at 1:55 pm
Oh, Jonna! Where do I begin? First, there have been actual times when I HAVEN’T done the McD’s binge simply because I know if I do it I will lie about it and then that will put me further into the world of people with scary psychological issues. Same goes for wine. It sucks ass. Can’t I be a glutton if I wannabe and not have to confess it?
As for the crazy woman – dude. DROP her. You can either do the blunt “Um, I’m not sure our friendship is going to work out” thing (which I don’t recommend because I’m a chicken) or the not return calls or answer calls or anything. You need to just disappear.
You KNOW I feel your pain on the friend thing. I totally lucked out with the fact that Oy Vey (http://oyveysblog.blogspot.com) was the organizer of a book club I found online. She and I seriously planned our first “date” as meeting for drinks and then, if all went well, we’d stay for dinner. Ridiculous. I think you should go to the health food store tomorrow and bring up your talk with the girl and say you think you need to call the first meeting to order over drinks because these Florida crazies are driving you batty.
You’re only weird in a good way, chickadee.
Normal people are no fun.
21. leahpeah | June 15th, 2006 at 4:04 pm
1. give the overbearing friend the finger. tell her that you only allow so many needy friends in your life and all the slots are filled.
2. go ask out the lady from the store!!!!
22. Leigh | June 15th, 2006 at 4:08 pm
I feel compelled to point out that having kids is a great way to make friends. Also, please don’t starve yourself. It inevitably leads to binging, it’s not your fault.
And you’re not fat.
Ok. Mommy lobby signing off.
23. jonniker | June 15th, 2006 at 7:46 pm
Jes: You’ve been! you’ve been to Boston! My favorite line in one of your posts: “In Dallas, we just let people burn.”
Sian: Oh, so good to hear. I’m so happy for you that it’s improving, velvetina.
GG: I KNOW! And in each other’s home states!
Leahpeah: Why am I not surprised that you, the most levelheaded person in the world, has the most straightforward, practical advice?
Leigh: As unhip as this is to admit, I usually don’t think I’m fat. Body image and appearance don’t faze me that much, but when I’m all period-y and stuff, I really do blow up like a giant inflatable balloon, hence the irrational eating and bingeing. Brah.
24. anna nic | June 16th, 2006 at 8:56 pm
Why is it guys have it so much easier than us at the “making friends” thing? They meet for the first time, talk about nothing, punch each other in the face and then they’re best buds. What the fuck.
I’m with you there. I have one female friend and we’ve been friends since we were 13. That’s all I need. I don’t want to deal with any auditions or first dates or nervous bullshit. Other girls will talk to me for a while and give me their number to call them so we can hang out, but I get all freaked out about it LIKE I’M DATING and I never call them and then I run into them somewhere and it’s all weird. Why is it like dating? Why?
I live outside Boston. Have been here my whole life. Email me and bitch about left-wing, Northeastern crap if you like. If my one friend is tied up, then I have nothing else going on.
25. Eve | June 19th, 2006 at 5:27 pm
I miss you Miss Jonna Kay! Pack up Adam and the pets and get your little bums back up here! I, myself, am hormonal and fat and constantly analyzing weddings (ok, you’re past that) and babies too- we could have so much more fun in that craziness together– throwing back wine like the old days. Really big bottles of really BAD cheap wine. Massachusetts its calling– come hither, button!
Seriously, miss you guys much. Hope to see you soon
26. impossiblejane | June 20th, 2006 at 7:18 am
Your post made me laugh out loud. I am new to your blog but a friend who reads your blog passed the address along because my boyfriend is interviewing for a job in FL but we live in Providence. We’re still so unsure of the location. The job would be great, but the location the pits.
I know how it is to try and meet new friends. I have lived in Providence for 2 years and I’ve struggled to meet friends. It’s a slow process. The librarian, at the local public library, and I are in that phase of chatting up a storm when we see each other at the library but each of us don’t know how to take it further.
Cheers, Jane
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