My Enemy’s Frenemy Is My … Friend?

*Your Mother's a Whore!!!*

Adult friendships are a different type of animal – wouldn’t you agree? Yes — Good.

And so as life would have it lately I found myself defining and redefining exactly what that means to me. You see, there is a difference between being “friends” and “being friendly.” And as if that wasn’t complex enough, there are also “frenemies.”

A few weeks ago – nine to be exact, I uprooted myself from everything I know and sort of love in search of something new. I’d been feeling completely uninspired and decided to become the change I wished to attract. I divorced myself from my business – packed up my car and drove twelve hours in the opposite direction.

I settled in the Lonestar State, in possibly the most none Texas-y part of Texas. I’d visited a couple of years ago and fell in love at first flight. There’s something intoxicating about being somewhere new. Everyday I discover something new about the city. The way it looks at 5am … the smell of the hill country … How un-fall, fall is here. I love it. I’ve also discovered new things about myself. Still, something’s missing.

I’m not so sure it has as much to do with the city as it does with me. Establishing yourself in a new place in and of itself can be a challenge – and so I find myself creating new traditions and nurturing the possibility of newness here. And couldn’t we all use a little newness in our lives?? New love … new friendships … and hopefully the avoidance of a new frenemy.

I drove twelve hours in search of something new in an effort to get away from several somethings. Mostly a failed relationship with Hollywood, though I’m convinced I loved the idea of H, more so than H himself. He’s a wonderful man, just not the man for me. Then there was an ongoing  “it’s complicated” relationship with my friend turned Frenemy, Little Lord Farquad (LLF – for short,  not his real name).

LLF  and I met in the mid-90s through my high-school prom date, Can’t Stop Won’t Stop, LLF’s best friend. Can’t Stop Won’t Stop and I had a torrid relationship that officially lasted two excruciating weeks; and unofficially lasted off and on for four years and three regrettable days. And for the record, it was the Worst. Relationship.Ever. But I digress …

Somewhere in between the on again/off againess with Can’t Stop Won’t Stop, LLF and I became friends. Not only did we become friends, we became great friends. I adored him. Every little thing he did was magic. He was my person. He was funny. I mean really funny.  But he also had a serious side. But not too serious.  We had similar taste in everything. We were the diet coke of a relationship – same great taste, zero calories and no heart break.  We were friends. Just. Friends.  And we were perfect, until we weren’t. Sigh.

Twelve years into our friendship – around the time we’d both parted ways with our significant others there was a shift in energy between us. At the time getting involved with LLF was not an option for me. For starters, he wasn’t really my type – except that he kind of was. At the time, I think he was everything I thought I wanted. In the friendship department, he’d been so wonderful to me – that I think I sort of gave him too much credit. I put him on a pedestal and I think when you lift someone so high – there’s no where for them to go but down. Friend- 10. Pseudo Boyfriend – 2. Initially, he was like a flawless fake diamond. The kind you think is the real thing until you see it under the right lighting and next to a real diamond. Then POOF – you’re like, does anyone else see this fake f*cking diamond over here??

Looking back, I’m not sure how either of us missed the warning signs. For starters, we spent an astronomical amount of time together doing absolutely nothing. Cooking … drinking … laughing … drunk karaoke serenades to “Give It To Me Baby.”  The latter being the beginning of the end. I think we got careless about a friendship and failed to set boundaries. We were a bit like the sex equivalent of Stockholm’s Syndrome. Stay with me … I swear there’s a point. You’re around someone so much, before you know it you’re casually having amazzzing sex with them. You know its wrong, but can’t help yourself. Sexual Stockholm’s Syndrome.

Eventually casually sleeping together, morphs into something else. And something else morphs into the best-worst relationship. One minute we were laughing and having great sex. The next we were screaming at each other over every little thing. And of course there was the Can’t Stop Won’t Stop factor. Eventually, our pseudo relationship was like a reverse Benjamin Button — love edition. We loved in reverse and it was horrible.

A few weeks ago when I returned home for the holidays I opted to stay at LLF’s while my flat was being painted. We’d spent a few days together the week before, and while it hadn’t been the best time – it wasn’t the worst. We got into a few arguments, one of which ended with him screaming “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME COME INSIDE OF YOUUUUU !!?!” at a crowded bar. Yes, that really happened. And ended with me screaming “You’re dead to me.” Not my proudest moment.

Still, in the spirit of friendship and love, I forgave him. We forgave each other as we’ve often done before. As I lay in his bed, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about him that continually brought us together – besides the obvious, that wasn’t really doing the trick as of late.

I’ve never been the type of person that had to have someone in my life. I pride myself in being a self contained unit. And I detest arguing with people, especially friends as well as partners – So how is it that all we ever do is argue? I’m a Pisces, we hate conflict. Not to mention the obvious.  LLF and I were nothing more than a couple of humans, yet our arguments transcended our friendship a la  “The War of the Roses.” Besides, I made a commitment a few months ago that this Blog would be my boyfriend for the next year. I am a horrible girlfriend btw. 

After a night of failed attempts to get along I packed up my belongings and asked LLF to drive me home. We didn’t say a word to one another in the car. Both of us pretending not to notice the other. I hummed Cee-Lo’s F*ck You in my head to pass the time.

Though we’d reluctantly entered into whatever we were in, falling out of it seemed deliberate and succinct. In that moment I knew everything that I’d desperately been holding on to for so long was dead. No friendship. No love. No amazzzing sex. Only Bitterness and disgust. “I hate every-thing a-bout you … why do  Iiiii love you?”

There had been a time, that I wouldn’t have been able to imagine my life without LLF in it. I didn’t want to live in a world that couldn’t provide me with the kind of security and familiarity his friendship offered. He was my blankie. And yet, in that moment I couldn’t seem to get home fast enough. I’m positive the feeling was mutual.

I couldn’t get in my apartment fast enough. Reluctantly, he carried my luggage up to my flat staying long enough to grunt out an insincere “goodbye.” Was it a goodbye?? “Thanks” I said closing the door behind him. I didn’t mean it. or maybe I did.

Thanks for reminding me of what I’m not missing twelve hours in the opposite direction of you. Thanks for being a sketchy friend. Thanks for acting like a total douchelard for the last twenty-four hours. Thanks for reminding me of what friendship isn’t and what it looks like when things go horribly,  horribly wrong. Thanks for all that and more L-minus … you’re awesome. Really.

Even though my friendship/relationship went to hell in Hermes clutch – maybe the good thing is that I’m reminded of the true meaning behind the not-so age old saying … My enemy’s frenemy is my … friend. Ok maybe not … But it does bring to mind a quote from Steven King’s Pet Cemetary – “what’s dead, should stay dead.” And hopefully I won’t be resurrecting my frenemyship with LLF again. Not even if there’s a fire.

What about you? Any relationship/frenemyships that changed your views on friendship/love/relationships??

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About The.Pretty.One

"I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.” - Carry Bradshaw The Pretty One is the youngest daughter of a former 70s pageant queen and her first husband, a wealthy financier. A former debutante and southern belle, this Steel Magnolia is anything but. A visionary, she is the owner and creative mind behind a successful boutique communications and event firm. But what I really want to do is dance ... and blog.
This entry was posted in Break-Up, crazy people, Fate, free advice, Humor, Love, Pseudo Friendship, Relationships, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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