Maybe it was the growing feeling that I had been duped by someone I had come to care about or perhaps it was the fact that my hair was too bouncy for 2012, but suffice it to say that yesterday was not one of my best days.
While I would like to believe that I am a pro at hiding my true feelings, the truth is that I’m a terrible liar, even if that lie is “I am fine.” Worse, I cannot lie to myself. There’s no talking myself out of a bad mood. If I am feeling something, I am gonna feel it. This is awesome when the feelings are good but when they aren’t, look out.
Now, this is not something I am proud of. If my latest experience with my friend has taught me anything, it is that wearing your heart on your sleeve is not in fashion in these complicated times. Nor is too much mousse.
I decided to run a flat brush through my hair and turn to my old pal Marshall for a little help. I switched on my iPod, eager to hide behind the chip on his shoulder. Just as Em was telling me not to be afraid, I saw a smiling someone waving at me on the subway platform. My friend’s roommate.
What to do? What to do?
He walked over and we kissed hello. I’m always happy to see him but this time, I worried he’d catch a glimpse of my blushing spirit. Assuming he saw the situation between myself and my friend much clearer (and far less friendly) than I did, I did my best to smile and hide my embarrassment.
We stepped onto the train and made small talk as we passed one station after another. Finally, we hugged goodbye and I pressed play. To my chagrin, Adele and Amy had interrupted my convo with Marshall and I wound up pouring my heart out to the girls.
“You know he’s no good,” said Amy.
“He won’t go,” said Adele.
I ran my finger across the fast-forward button.
“No love,” said Marshall.
By the time I got off of the A-train, I was late, confused and my ears were ringing.
Suddenly, my daze was interrupted by a familiar voice.
“What is going on with you, lady?” asked my friend, Stacey, as I walked towards her, hair still bouncing like a beach ball. “You’re looking hot on the outside but your eyes tell another story.”
Happy to have a real, live friend in front of me (and one who doesn’t speak in rhyme) I plopped into her office chair and explained the state of my being. We went through the high’s and low’s of the past two weeks and walked through my fears concerning my friend. Finally, I came to a pause.
“Are you finished?” she asked. “For a minute,” I answered. “O.K., here is what I heard…” and she began to list the sequence of events in her own words.
Funny, they sounded nothing like mine.
Had she even listened?
“You are your own worst enemy,” she said, “You’re always looking for a way to blame yourself for something. The fact is, if you had done something ‘wrong’, I’d be the first to tell you, but you didn’t. Your so-called friend either lied to you and isn’t a friend or he just doesn’t know how to talk to you and will come around. Either way, your hair looks great,” she said.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“Yes, there’s nothing more to say. If your friend is a friend, he’ll act like one. If you want less bounce, use less mousse.”
“And that’s why you’re a friend,” I said.
She smiled. “I’ll always tell you the truth,” she said. She then handed me a note I wrote to remind her not to ever allow anyone to steal her self-respect or ruin a perfectly happy day.
“You take this a while and give it back to me when I need it. Now, let’s go get a spray tan.”