Honesty is for the Birds August 29, 2008

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I prefer to be lied to or to lie. There is that fantastic little gray area though, I like to call it the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

Back in June when B sent me this email about his “friend” coming into town, I was a little taken aback by his honesty. A little pissed, but also a little impressed. I’ve never really dated a man who was mature enough to be completely honest about what he was feeling and what he was up to (wow…and why am I still single?!?) I still wish he wouldn’t have told me about it. But hey…thankfully I ended up in Vegas that weekend anyway and had some fun of my own. I still thought of him though, and wondered what he and his “friend” were up to.

So now with X coming into town tomorrow, I faced the moral dilemma of telling B. As much as I knew I’d rather have not known, he kinda set the standard. And the bitchy part of me thought it may do him some good to know how NOT good it felt to be told the truth. So I told him Wednesday. On the phone. And it was really awkward and uncomfortable.

Yesterday I emailed him saying that our conversation ended uncomfortably and asked if we were okay. I told him that I wasn’t sure what, if anything, would happen with X because we haven’t seen eachother in so long. I also decided to go over and above being honest about the situation, but about my feelings for him as well. I told him that he knows all he has to do is say the word and I’m his. That I would much prefer being with him over X, or anyone for that matter, but until he is ready to committ he can’t expect me to be exclusive. I reiterated to him that I will never push him into something he isn’t ready for but I can’t just sit around and wait for him to decide he is ready for a relationship. Because my gawd, what if that time comes and he decides its not even me that he wants to be in a relationship with! Wouldn’t I feel like a jack ass?

He sent me back a very sweet, very B-like email. He detailed all of the things he loves about me, and how happy that I make him. But then said that basically he’s too chickenshit to get into another relationship yet. He understands me not sitting around and waiting for him, and that he hopes that we can still continue with whatever this fucked up relationship is that we have (I’m paraphrasing now.) And because he probably knows that it kills me when he is so sweet, he told me to have a great weekend with my friend. Asshole.

I thought that I’d feel better about being honest, I don’t. I would have felt a lot better about knowing that B had no idea what I was up to this weekend. I still wonder what exactly happened when his friend was in town. I try to tell myself that they went sight seeing and out to see a few shows, and there wasn’t a spark. I care for him enough to not want him to have to do all of the wondering I have done.

An Ode to my BFF on our 20 Year Anniversary August 29, 2008

19 years and 360 days ago I met my best friend Quinn. Quinn transferred from another elementary school, so on the first day of 3rd grade we met. We were both in Mrs. Wests’ 3rd grade class. I immediately didn’t like her. All of the boys thought she was cute, and all of the girls wanted to be her friend. At that point I was the popular girl (although I’m really not too sure how that had happened) and I felt like with this new girl in town, I was quickly losing my status. It was ironic because she had brown, curly hair like I did. No one had curly hair like I did.

The first few weeks of school we spent one-uping each other in the classroom and on the play ground. We’d compete to see who could get their math worksheets in the quickest. We’d both throw our hands up in the air to answer the questions Mrs. West would ask. On the play ground we’d walk around bragging about what Barbies we had and how many times we’d been to Disneyland (which we both lied about!)

I think it was only two or three weeks into the school year that we gave up hating eachother and became BFF’s. That’s Best Friends Forever. Little did I realize that when we started saying “forever” that it really would be. I had no idea what an amazing friendship was in store for us. It wasn’t long before Quinn and her sister Carly, and my sister and I were joined at the preverbial hip. To this day I still think of Quinn’s family as an extension of mine.

Although Q and I have had periods of time in the past where we have not had a lot of contact, I still consider her my best friend. She has been around for every part of my life. She is the reason I live in Portland. She was with me when I bought my pregnancy test, and right outside the door when I was peeing on the stick. I made her not look at me when I came out of the bathroom, because I knew she’d see the answer in my face. She was there when I told Matt he was going to be a daddy. In fact, I think she may have even put some sappy music on!

Quinn has been in a constant in my life, a comfort. Someone who I know I can always count on, no matter where I am or what I have done. She is a part of all of my childhood memories, and behind almost every inside joke I know. Aside from my sister, Quinn knows more about me than any other person and yet she still loves me! After spending any amount of time with Quinn, my heart is full and my face muscles hurt from laughing.

Quinnie, thank you for making these last twenty years so incredibly fun! I love you so much, and am so grateful to have had you in my life for so long. I look forward to another 70 years of good times! Happy 20 year anniversary!

Love you!

Quinn and me in 3rd Grade (1988)

Quinn and me, we’ve always had totally radical style (1990)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quinn and me at my birthday party in January

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quinn and my “other” sister, Carly