An interesting life

This car

On Friday night, Larry went to get the car. He left ahead of me, for obvious reasons. When I got to the curb, he wasn't there, despite the fact I left ample time so that I could avoid standing on one leg any more than necessary. I waited. And then I waited. And then I waited even longer. I tried to call him but he was on the phone. Apparently, Larry got to the car, pulled up and I wasn't there. He left because there were two cop cars. Eric, with whom Larry was on the phone when I called, suggested that he just leave me there. After all, said Eric, I'm a big girl and I can just get a cab. From Westport. This isn't Chicago, or New York. You can't just snap your fucking fingers and get a goddamn cab. Worse, the bars at Westport aren't curbside, so I'd have to wait there, on the curb, until such time as a cab came. Which, I know, from previous experience can take an hour or more on a Friday night. Usually, the best bet is to get one from the Sheraton (the Chataeu, not the Pavilion) but that's all the way the fuck on the other side of the Plaza from where I was to meet Larry. And, if you're fatigued and on crutches, it might well be on the other side of town.

Larry showed up. And later, at the Sports Page, told me what Eric said. I'm fucking sick of this shit. This is by no means the first time Eric has said shit like this. Leave me? 10 miles from home? What the fuck is that? When it comes to me, Eric is a complete asshole.

I called Eric on this last night when he called me out of the blue. I told him that I didn't really know if we were friends. He said, "If you think you can find a better friend then me, then good luck." I hung up. He called me later, ostensibly to apologize. Except that he wasn't really sorry. In fact, he said, "You know what I think? I think you'd like Larry better if he HAD left you there." He went on: "Come one, Christy, be honest: don't you think you do things like this to toy with him?" Do what? I waited at the fucking curb. I left for the fucking curb 5 minutes after he did. Eric accused me of playing games, toying with Larry. I'm not sure why. Larry and I are friends. I've made this abundantly clear to everyone from the beginning. That's how it is; that's how it's going to be. Period. All parties involved (that is: Larry and I and only Larry and I) KNOW this.

Of course, Eric has also accused me of just pretending my leg was broken.

I finally told him I'm sorry he felt that way, but that a friend wouldn't even think this kind of shit. I said goodbye and hung up.

I told Larry on Friday that I was tired of Eric's shit. I was tired of wondering if he were really a friend, someone you can count on. To my face, Eric is all kinds of lip service, but behind my back or when push comes to shove he ACTS in a completely different manner. The night I broke my leg he just sat there. Never asked me if I was okay. Didn't help me to the car (some stranger did that). Nothing. First he claimed he didn't know anything was wrong, then later claimed he "Didn't want to get involved."

I'll tell you what. I take my friends where I can get 'em. Friends come in a lot of packages and not everyone is capable of the same level of friendship or capable of being the same kind of friend. I accept this. But one thing that I cannot, and will not, accept of someone who claims to be my friend is that kind of apathy. I had more concern and offers of help from STRANGERS than I had from Eric.

So, I'm proud of myself for sticking to my guns last night. I gave him a chance. But I don't have time for people who want to believe I'm the kind of person Eric seems to believe I am. Eric's not a bad guy, he's not. And he isn't my enemy. I'm just not going to pretend that we're friends, when we so obviously aren't. That's all. For the record, this is more an internal sort of thing--I doubt anyone around us will notice any outward change.