Who is THAT GIRL? What is THAT GIRL? We all know THAT GIRL. We love to hate THAT GIRL. Because without her, most of us would have nothing to talk about over drunken brunch.
I was once THAT GIRL.
THAT GIRL who keeps the drama fresh and ever flowing, and sucks you into a vacuous Serena VanderWhore vortex whether you like it or not.
THAT GIRL, the one who relates most conversations back to herself, and redirects it to her many drama whored, inappropriate relationships with even more inappropriate men.
THAT GIRL who never has any money. Though, I’m still that girl, but for totally different reasons. Legitimate ones, like medical bills, a mortgage, and the desire to put food on the table. The difference is now, if it’s not a necessity, and if I can’t afford it, I don’t buy it/do it. It’s put a dent in my social life. But, que sera. My social life was already dented when I discovered social networking back in 2007.
Also to see the light at the end of the Tunnel of Debt is totally worth the cost of poverty now. Paying cash: accept no substitutions or imitations.
My inability to properly budget was more expensive than the squandered money itself. Shit is replaceable. A one of a kind friend, is just that. One of a kind. I should have spoken up, taken less, and made a better effort to give back more.
Years later, I would like to think that I have learned some lessons from the casualties of my ass hatterry. I try to listen more, and give what I can when I can. I try to never forget a birthday. I try to be a cheerleader for my friends, to stand in their corner, and to be honest. If I think your idea is awesome, I’ll tell you. If I think what you’re doing is the suck, I’ll tell you that too. Because it’s my job as your friend to have your back, not let you go around looking or acting like a damned fool, or watch you get your ass played out when something could have been said that may have spared you a hot mess.
I hope my friends can do the same for me as well; have my back when it’s rough or when it's chill, call me out on my stupid shit (of which is plentiful and bountiful), and just be there to pat my hand when I’m the one acting a fool with a simple “Ok, shit’s over. Dust your shoulders off and keep on movin’.”
So, what does this have to do with bees, honey, manners, and all that shizz that this bloggy space is all about? Well, I will enlighten you.
First off, I took bad manners, per se, and made it into an art form. So I believe that I owe these two a proper apology. One girl, I went out like a punk. Not once but twice. The other, I got the Jimmy Choo boot from her. But if you’re going to get your ass kicked to the curb, at least it should be by a fabulous shoe! Go out in style!!
Second, but more ensconced in my heart, one of my life resolutions is to cherish and nurture the friendships I have now. After the passing of my dear friend, and now starting to come to terms with the fact that motherhood and I aren’t going to party together in this lifetime, I really got a chance to truly see who my real friends (and family, for that matter) are.
Friends come and go, and the good ones should know how much they are truly appreciated. They deserve all of the best I can give them. Of course, there are always the few who just need to sprayed by an extra large can of Bitch-Be-Gone. But I’m going to try and give them the benefit of the doubt as well before they see my knock off Jimmy Choo boot kicking their asses to the curb. More blog to come on that, I assure you.
Trying to make amends is an art form, especially when you know that there really isn’t anything to be said that can fix it. I’m also pretty sure that even the simplest “I’m sorry,” is going rightfully to fall on deaf ears.
For what it’s worth, this is not supposed to be a woe is me, pity party post. The truth is, I can’t write a blog about how I’m always full of awesome, and how my judgmental eyes see the world as one, specific way, just so I can accuse people of commenting crimes against manners. To do that smacks of hypocritical smugness.
I am not full of awesome, and my judgements can be unfounded. To be really true to this journey down literary lane, I have to own up to my own bullshit.
But none of that is the real point. The point is the principle. The words need to be said, one way or the other. I just wish I figured this shit out like..seven plus years ago.
So, what do the bees think I should do? Clearly, the apology letters are long over due. It’s the timing of when to send them that sucks my own ass dry. Now is not the time. The truth is, that even with all of this emoting and so called deep introspection, I don’t have the tits to do it right now. But maybe in a year or so. That’s the goal.
Here’s to the bees keeping my ass in line in order to reach that goal. Or to when I grow a pair. Whichever buzzes by me first.