This escalated quickly, but it came at no surprise.
You know. It’s rather cliche, but when people show you who they are, believe them. Every. Single. Time.
Consider every word. Every action. You’re not crazy.
[Can we ban the word ‘crazy’, actually?]
How is she a part of this series already? I had just met her! What could’ve went wrong in four months? A whole lot. Quite frankly. Also, did you know that being frank is offensive? Even when they claim that the door is open, *Bruno Mars voice*, it isn’t. No one wants to be held accountable.
Just held.
Held on a pedestal that ceases to exist.
So, remember that friendship group I was talking about?
-long pause-
Yup. It has reared its ugly little head again. I’m just surprised at who it featured itself with.
It’s always the one who claims that they vibe with you.
I don’t even know how to describe her because I obviously didn’t know her. Brunches and group chats don’t count. A few years older and inches shorter than me, her approach seemed genuine. We both expressed how awkward it was to talk to others we didn’t know, but it was equally exciting to meet new people. On one of the many New York Ladies’ posts, I connected with her and a few others. Next thing you know, I’m being asked to be an admin of a sub-group.
Listen.
It fulfilled my need to belong. [Shout out to my therapist] Anyway, we texted often, checking in on each other, planning events, sending TikTok videos, laughing. It was all innocent. When we finally met in person, we clicked…
Or, so I thought.
“We’ll make really good friends. I love your personality.”
“Oh, thank you!” Music to my ears.
It’s working! It’s working! Best decision ever! She became my “good morning” friend. The one you hear from right away, despite her 12-hour shift at the ER and her bouncing bundle of terrible-twos. He was a cutie too. She was reassuring that it was okay for me to be myself and couldn’t understand my plight because I was a good person. Hers was her mouth, which I slowly began to realize.
“I’m blunt and very direct. I say what’s on my mind. If you have something to say to me, just tell me. I want you to be honest. I care about my friends.”
*eye roll*
Then came the idea of a podcast; one that I planned to do on my own, but craned to the idea of doing it with another when she said, “I’m down!” It was all about talking with her girls, having guests, and becoming famous.
I was cool with a modest audience.
Talking about real stuff.
Not just the word on the street.
Things worth listening to, you know.
She talked about adding all of these people; one of her friends suggested some cringeworthy name; not fit to remember obviously. It threw a wrench in my plans, but I was still down, because, hey, I finally “had friends.”
Things got a little weird though. One night on Zoom, me, her and two others were discussing potential segments. Award shows came up. Then, you guessed it. Lil Nas X. She expressed her desire to have a “gay co-host” but in the same breath, didn’t like seeing them kiss their partners… didn’t want her son exposed to that… if only she knew how advanced or how true children would be to themselves regardless of how we felt.
“…but I love the gays.”
*red flag*
Anyway, I gravitated towards her because she seemed to be the only person ‘invested’ in the group, *cough* wanting to be my friend *cough*. I honestly saw nothing wrong despite various red flags, but I was working on NOT jumping to conclusions. NOT assuming. Extending people grace, even when they didn’t deserve it because that’s what makes us good people, right?
It was the day of her birthday brunch. 90s themed. I rushed to a CVS to buy her birthday card (she never got it). I waited outside with others as she strolled up, late, with her posse. Sat on different ends of the table. We were the outcasts. Had to Uber to the second spot, with one person I knew and two of her friends. One rubbed me the wrong way, but hey, we didn’t know each other. I was there for all of 20 minutes, before my godsister said she was ready to go. I was excited. Never mind the fact that Miss Brown was nowhere to be found. The night was about and for her. Not me and my social issues. I was beginning to think maybe this friend stuff wasn’t for me.
Expensive as hell, cute, but not for me entirely.
Fast forward to our twosome Friendsgiving. It’s 30 degrees outside and she’s late as usual. I’m supposedly waiting for her friend who lived around the corner. Low and behold, she was at a party across town. I stood, annoyed and cold in a skimpy jeans jacket. Miss Brown finally arrived. We spent most of the night waiting for our food, screaming over the loud speaker that was next to our table, and discussing our so-called group of friends. She was always so hopeful and romanticized finding her people, but something was different. Now, she was over everyone and ready to throw in the towel. Granted, I was too, but it was a bit strange how ready she was to pop off. Her friend finally showed two hours later, drunk and yelping, “We outside!”
Oh, joy.
She asked if I was down to go to the next place. Didn’t exactly answer. I just stared. I knew I wasn’t going. She offered me a ride back home and I gladly slipped into bed. That wasn’t my crowd. Felt like a third wheel, anyway. The next day, we bought our tickets for skating, well made the deposit, for the third time, but who’s counting, right? *shrug* “It’s just me and you girl”, she said. I knew it would be kind of weird, but I was looking forward to it.
Can a place be the reason for a friendship’s demise? Because it was all good until we wanted to go skating. Anyway, I remained observant of her words and actions as time went along; a construct she didn’t respect but one I excused because of the little man.
December 11, 2021… Here’s the fun part:
As I rose that morning, my first thought was to text Miss Brown, “Are we still on for today?” She answered immediately after that we were. I thought I would be excited, but I wasn’t. The day felt awkward, outside of my uterus falling out, if you know what I mean. Something was about to happen.
Our reservation was at 4 and the place was in West Bubble F*ck, so I hopped in the shower at 1. As much of a New Yorker I claim to be, I hate traveling to different boroughs. I do not explore. I do not know every train line. I’m good with Downtown and the borough in which I reside. Anyway, she calls me, mid-shower, to ask what I was wearing. My initial thought was, “she cancelling” but, she didn’t, although bundle of terrible-twos was screaming his head off in the background. I suppose I was to ignore it too. Fast forward to me walking to Area 53 Adventure Park with 20 minutes to spear. She is nowhere near there.
What are reservations? I’m confusion.
I’m irritated, but I give her the benefit of the doubt, yet, I’m doing this again. Ella is standing in the cold. Thank G*d for my best friend. We randomly chatted, but she also let me complain. Let me complain about having to wait. Complain about my cramps. Complain about having to pee and looking like a prostitute on the corner of the street because they wouldn’t let me in until I paid the $50 admission fee. This is what friends are for! *cue 90s sitcom music where the character learns an important lesson*
Except, my lesson wasn’t heartwarming.
I should’ve hauled ass back to the Bronx when I had the chance.
4:27pm. She texts that she found parking and was walking over.
LATE.
3 minutes later, she calls asking where I am. Beyond annoyed, I responded nicely that I was inside and would walk out to meet her. Except. She was not where I was.
She was at another location.
Now.
Before you jump down my throat about it being a simple mistake, let’s backtrack, shall we?
We both made deposits to this place and received confirmation emails, right? The address was also on the website, right? She spoke to me several times that morning, right?
Ok.
In true Ella fashion, I promptly scoffed and said that I was going home. That my friends was the last straw and quite frankly, I felt like this was done on purpose. She responded, dryly, and with no apology, “What about my gas? I drove all the way over here.”
No, let me come and get you. No, I’m so sorry! We can do something else. No, wait! I’m coming!
My point, exactly.
So, f*ck me and the pee that I had to hold for almost an hour and let’s not mention having to get ready a whole three hours in advance. You can walk your ass back to your car. Your warm car. The luxury. The f*cking audacity.
I told her we could do this another time and that we would talk later.
I knew that we weren’t.
I also knew that this was my chance to be honest.
“…if you have something to say to me, just tell me. I want you to be honest. I care about my friends.”
[here goes nothing]
30 minutes later…
….
What the f*ck?
She’s not your friend, that girl…
Til the door knocker earring flies,
Ella.
p.s. I didn’t know being on time for a reservation was ‘early’.
The Daily Ella 