She called in tears.
The moisture turned her words into soggy balls of meaning, like bread chewed and spit out. “I just broke up with-”
She couldn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
We talked for a long time about the guy I never met, the guy who hurts her in both dashes and slow brewings. It was the most personal conversation I’ve had with a woman in…my entire life?
I hate to sound like I’m celebrating her pain, but I was thrilled she called me. Me. We haven’t known each other that long, but there’s this feeling that we should have. She gets it, something no one has been able to get in so long. For a feminist, I have been seriously lacking in the sisterhood department, and I’ve had my ideas why. 1) I am unlovable, unrelatable, or both. 2) Women are, for the most part, jealous, relationally aggressive bitches. 3) I am intimidated by the idea of female friendship after some damaging experiences in my past and am unable to move on.
She later said, “I’m sorry. I’m blabbing on and on. Usually I want to come across as strong, but I just didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”
My heart soared.
I felt myself billowing with empathy and trustworthiness and hope. She chose me, as I have wanted to choose her. I need a female friend. It’s the whole idea of simultaneous destruction and rehabilitation. Painful moments can provide perfect opportunities to build something unidentifiably new.
My friend, my Shiva, she and I can move on together.
don’t you think you made a bit much of this situation? a coworker vented and you made it into a bonding experience. do you not have friends?
How can someone who supposedly dislikes someone so much be so obsessed with that person’s life?!
Btw, I liked this.
-J