what matters and why

insecure

 (This entry was edited by 1boy on 08-04-01 @ 1:04 am EDT)

8/3/01
10:45pm

“It’ll be like a little party,” she said, not sounding like it was something she was looking forward to either. “We haven’t seen each other in so long.” She sounded like she was preparing for a funeral. Why couldn’t this have come up a month ago? I wonder. I swear I’ve gained five pounds since then and for some reason my normally flat belly is sticking out. Hanging out all day in my bathing suit with people I’ve wanted desperately to impress for a year now is not going to help my self esteem. If I were to make an excuse now it would seem like I was weak and afraid and copping out. Why did she have to invite her, and why didn’t she tell me sooner in the week?
Three years ago, we were still living in the townhouse. My son was going on seven months old, and adorable and perfectly behaved. A friend of mine had just told us the news about a month before, that she was due in January, a day before his birthday. I considered her a good friend. She was one of the only who’d stuck around while everyone else had gone to college. Her boyfriend was a good friend of my husband, and we fell into a routine of spending weekends together, drinking after our boy went to bed. We had so much fun, and when she told me her news, and her predicament, I was sympathetic, having been there myself only a year before. We became closer that year, as we had so much in common. I had no friends with children, and I was so excited when her baby arrived three days before my son’s first birthday. She had moved in with the boyfriend, and I think she assumed they would eventually marry. He was the one who hesitated. Even after her child came, we still spend many weekends partying after they went to bed. Even after we moved into our house twenty minutes away, they would come over all the time. We always had fun. We haven’t felt that comfortable with another couple since. We had so much to talk about. The trials and tribulations of raising a child and making an attempt to adjust to a full time companion. Our lives were a lot duller than our friends at college, but it made it easier with someone to talk to. Then for some reason, things didn’t work out with them. Plans to marry fell through, and she was understandably tired of waiting. It was a week after she’d moved out, scared to death of living on her own, when we were discussing her future dating life.
“I just don’t want to,” she said. She sounded determined. “I couldn’t do that to her,” she was referring to her daughter, who was sixteen months at the time. I couldn’t have agreed more. Not that she couldn’t ever see anyone else, but that she would refrain from an introduction until she was sure that it was the one she wanted for life. I believed her, and I was impressed with her convictions to refrain from bringing men in and out of the child’s life. We were both busy that summer, me with work and she was a full time nanny. Since she wasn’t with her boyfriend anymore, there was no reason for them to come over on the weekends. They were having trouble getting along. When I quit my job, I was excited to spend time with her and her daughter again. I had millions of plans set up in my head. I made several attempts to call her. Once she was sleeping and never called me back. Another time she said she was on the other line and again, would call me back later. It went on and on. She never called me, and I tired of making a pointless effort to try and keep in touch. Then our friend from college came home for a week before school started back up, and filled me in on my former friend’s new boyfriend, and her new life. Though younger and still in high school, they managed to spend all their time together. And I was so worried she’d never get over the ex.
“And he’s so great with the baby,” our mutual friend told me. “He’s just a decent guy.” It sounded like she was happy, so I thought good for her. I saw her at a party. I made an attempt at small talk, and she obviously did not want me around. She was obviously more interested in how much beer she could drink out of that keg and where she was spending the night that night. And even though I would have never considered her to be a best friend, I wanted to cry as I was driving home that night. How could I treat her the same after she’d completely disregarded my presence that night. How could I not be hurt that she didn’t tell me about her new boyfriend. Could she not have called me and said “I found this great guy?” Or did she assume I’d be prudish about it? That I would judge, or make fun of their age difference. I may have, but only jokingly. I don’t think I would have chose to end the friendship over that, which obviously, is what she wanted. I didn’t think our already shaky friendship would survive after that and I was right. I didn’t call her again, and only knew what was going on in her life from our mutual friend, who constantly fills me in on how well she is doing.
“She is so skinny,” she’ll tell me. “I don’t know how she does it. She looks so good. And he is awesome,” she says. “He’s just the greatest guy ever.” She fails to mention that there’s not much of a future seeing he is only now entering college. And as much as I hate myself for it, I’m jealous. But not because she’s found someone, or that I don’t have that kind of freedom. Jealous because I feel like all of the friends we had so long ago think that she’s just wonderful, and I’m a boring old married prude. Nevermind that I am so happy, that we beat the odds and are doing something so good for ourselves and for our child. She’s more fun, she still parties and drinks, and somehow she manages to be a mother also. So I feel as if I am compared with her constantly that I will never measure up to her life of the party attitude. She gives off this air of “having it all”. And nevermind, also that she hasn’t ever done anything to further herself, or better her life. No school, no job with benefits, etc, etc. But somehow she manages, and doesn’t need me anymore. I wish I knew why I feel like I’m competing with her somehow, and why when things like this come up, why I get this nervous feeling in my stomach.
Parading around tomorrow in my bathing suit, exposing all my inadequacies, while I try to peek at her and see if her tummy is flatter that mine is not going to make this “competition” any better. I am setting myself up to feel like nothing. Like my boring married life is worthless compared to her partying single life. I cannot back out now, or it will look like I’m purposely avoiding her, and that will seem weak. Like I can’t face up to the fact that she rejected me, she didn’t want me around anymore. I wish I had a good excuse not to be there. No excuse now; I wasn’t aware of this situation until tonight, leaving no time to starve myself or practicing making my tits look smaller, an impossible task. No time for my face to clear, who has decided to pick this week for it’s monthly breakout. And no time to prepare an amazing conversation, a speech that will make me sound like I have never been happier. Of course I will say the wrong things, and as usual, I will leave there tomorrow, feelinglike everything I wanted to say came out wrong. I don’t want to brag about how awesome my husband is; it will sound superficial, and as if I am trying too hard. And forget about taking pride in my perfect son. I will be too worried that if I say something about how well bahaved he’s always been, he will immediately pee in his pants or something. It is so sad about how much though I’m putting into this simple get together. What happened to me that I have become so damn cynical? That I worry so much now about the image I am portraying. It is ridiculous of me to expect for myself to be a perfect person at all times, to expect my three year old to be the perfect child and my constant source of pride. To expect myself to be the ideal mother, and the wife that every husband wishes they had. And most of all, to prove that I have done something in this four years since high school. Why do I feel like I’ve accomlished nothing important when in truth I’ve done so much.
Why should this friend of mine get all the attention when she’s done nothing but flirt and attempt to look sexy. She’s not even that pretty, she never has been. She has lost weight, and as for me, I’ve been feeling fat as hell this month. But there is something about her that people like, and I feel completely inadequate and insecure. I hate myself for that. I should not have to keep reminding myself that I have done so much more than her. More than anything I want to see her fail. To see this relationship not work out. I want her to call me and say that she still needs me to be her friend, that I am everything she wishes she could be, and that my life is what she wishes she could have. I want to see her afraid when all our friends get married and her only potential is still in college. I wish that she was jealous of me, but I don’t think that’s the case.
I am incredibly embarrased to admit envy, a horrible quality. Someone, something I don’t want to be and could never admit that I am.
In conclusion, tomorrow I will make my best attempt at making amends without being judgemental of her choices. I can only pray that my little one will behave, and I will portray an image of capability, of someone who has it all together and knows exactly what they want from life. On the ohter hand, I want to make my best atttempt to make more than small talk, to be open, and honest, and admit my inadequacies. To admit that I have missed her, and would like to be friends sometime again, if only for the sake of creating peace and a sense of comfort when everyone else returns and requests a get together.
It's too complicated, I know. Too stupid, ridiculous and something I don't want to talk about, let alone record to relive for my entire life. Maybe I can better myself. I do have good qualities, patience and strength. And at least I'm not as fat as last year.