Crazy, jealous bitches……..

All of my life I have had to deal with insecure, backstabbing, hurtful women.  You would think by now, at the ripe old age of 54, I would be free of such nonsense: sadly, nothing could be further from the truth.  And it has nothing to do with my looks, career, or material possessions.  I believe the reason I have been a victim of mean -ass women from childhood on up is this: my innate happiness and love for others.

A few of you are laughing out loud at this moment.  What about your depression?  Anxiety?  Haven’t seen that “innate happiness” lately, now have we?  Oh, but it is there.  I have felt an awkward tug at my soul since I was a small child.  Despite the challenges of my life, I have remained upbeat, loving, and dare I say the word……happy.  And this in spite of the troubled relationships that seem to plague me.

When I was a teenager, the dating scene remained a mystery to me.  I remember one evening in particular, when I had a date with my brother’s friend, Mark.  He didn’t show up, let alone call to let me know he wasn’t coming.  “Michele, you are an idiot magnet,” my brother mumbled sadly.  And alas, he was right on the money.

Going as far back to grade school, when I worked the Weight Watcher’s program and lost 50 pounds:  I have to admit, I thought I looked fabulous in my skin tight, neon blue bell bottoms and matching top.  My best friend, Denise,  felt a bit left out and I sensed it.  I tried to encourage her and give her my dieting tips, but she just wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.  And looking back, I don’t know why I was shocked at her betrayal.   It was Spring Fling at Belmont Elementary.  Oh, the magic!!  Games of every kind, cotton candy, soft pretzels and burgers.  Music….I remember, “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” blaring from the speakers that lined the front of the school.  I was absolutely on top of the world.  My girlfriend announced that she and I were going to ride the fire engine, with the hot fire fighters….and, she announced, I wasn’t getting out of it.

I mounted the fire engine steps with enthusiasm.  Oh, this was going to be a great memory!  The day was off-the-charts beautiful, and, well, you know, MY OUTFIT…Let’s just say I was feeling my oats on this glorious day of days.  I walked to the back of the engine and began to take my seat next to my friend.  What happened next was King of Prussia legend for years to come, thanks to her.  You see, when I went to sit down, my bell bottoms split from front to back, leaving me embarrassed, vulnerable and close to hysteria.  Denise’s reaction did nothing to comfort me….she laughed so hard she cried; and, to my dismay, told any and every person who would listen to the details of the most embarrassing day of my life.

This brings me to the story I have been meaning to tell.  From my coworkers to my “friends,” I could never figure out what I was doing that caused such contempt and vicious behavior.  I was nicer than nice to anyone who wore a bra.  I pretended to be stupid, just to make friends.  And as I grew older, I went through jobs at the speed of sound.  I would come home and cry to my mother, who would tell me that the girls were jealous and saw me as a threat.  Suffering from low self-esteem, I would shake my head in wonder and pain.  What in the world was wrong with ME?  What would it take for me to live a life,  bitch-free?

Snap back to reality and the current situation that has brought me to my knees in heartache and rage.  I had a friend I thought the world of.  For the sake of her privacy, let’s just call her Satan.  I worked for her a few years back, and over the years the four of us (her husband and my husband included) became quite close.  Or, so I thought.  Her husband had beaten cancer twice, and, not having many male friends, I cherished our relationship.  Men are different.  They tend to judge less and listen more.  He always made me laugh, and our friendship was 100% platonic.

One day, while shopping at Walmart, (cue hissing) I ran into Satan.  The look on her face was one of anger, disgust and irritation.  “What in the world is wrong?,” I asked.  She repeated “nothing,” all four times I asked that question.  She and my friend, her husband, were planning a trip to Jamaica.  “I only pray he doesn’t have a heart attack at the airport,” she blurted.

“Oh my word, what is wrong?” I stammered.

“Well, you know Steve isn’t going to be around much longer.”

“Oh my GOD is the cancer back?” I cried.

She went on to say that he was so bad the last time they travelled, that she thought he may have a heart attack until it was all said and done.

“I asked him if he wanted a wheel chair, but he won’t have it.”

That conversation had me in tears, worried about my friend and praying for him the entire time they were away.  When they returned, he shared a picture from their travels on my Facebook page.  I had challenged him to post 7 nature pictures in 7 days…..and then to nominate a new person each day.  I was thrilled they were home, happy that he had survived the vacation and eager to get together to see pictures of their trip.

That isn’t going to happen now.  Satan has worked her magic, and he is not allowed to communicate with me.  He tried to take the blame for her, but I have the skills of a private detective, and I use them when needed.  I did the math.  I connected the dots.  I sherlocked the shit out of that scenario, and now I am furious.

You cannot cut off the people you love from human contact with the opposite sex.  We need our friends as much as they need us, and her behavior has caused me true pain.  I will let go and let God at this point.  There is nothing else to do.

But please heed my warning.  When around unstable, self-centered women, wear the loose bell bottoms.  You can thank me later.

 

 

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