I was whining the other day about not being invited to a friend’s birthday celebration. It wasn’t a very loud whine, more a whimper of self-pity, but nonetheless, it was something that, if only momentarily, made me feel sad.
Why don’t I get invited to play in any of their reindeer games?
Of course the thing I have to admit is that there’s a very good reason: I’m not a very good friend.
Oh, I’m a very good acquaintance. And, if you ever ever need anything, real help in any way, I’m there. No questions asked. I will do anything for my friends. Seriously.
And when we meet each other out, we have a great time together! I’m a lot of fun, generous and loving and giving.
But I’m not a day-to-day kind of friend. I don’t call, text, email all the time. Or even very often. I very seldom make lunch or dinner or any other kind of dates. I don’t go shopping with my girlfriends, or do girls’ night out, or get my nails done with them…or whatever else it is girlfriends do. “Hang out.”
Sometimes, I miss that. When I don’t have anything to do, and I think, “Hey, if I had someone I could just call up…”
But I don’t. And I’ve pretty much accepted that I don’t.
The reality? I’m pretty self-involved. Involved with my guys, my kids, my writing, my job, my life. And sometimes…just with myself.
Sometimes…too much with myself.
See, I can be okay with the fact that the price I pay for my hyper-involvement in my own world is that I don’t get to “play in any of their reindeer games.” We all make choices about what’s the best use of limited resources, and I accept the consequences of my choices, even if I feel bad as a result sometimes.
But what I really hate is when my self-involvement impacts those around me in negative ways.
In an amusing “for instance” there’s this:
I usually remember Ad’s birthday. Like, before the actual day. In fact, I have planned a cruise and two different getaways for us during his bday time in the past…
Okay, okay, I confess that it just so happened that I planned the trips and then realized they fell on his birthday. But they still count! (Right?)
Sigh. Maybe not. In the end, he’s had a great time, and I usually remember the actual day when we’re there, though… That has to count for something, right?
Gah. I really DO suck.
Anyway. This year there is no trip. And so…I almost forgot about his birthday entirely (yes that’s how bad I suck.) I remembered because my office closes on Veteran’s Day (his birthday.) That’s how I remember his birthday. (See? I really do suck!) This year I am getting him a Kindle. And I had actually planned on it a long time ago! But I would not have remembered if not for this convo at my office:
Boss Lady: …and the office is closed Friday…
Me: Closed Friday? Why?
Her & Coworker: Because it’s Veteran’s Day!
Me: Oh, cool! A day off.
Me: OMG–wait! Veteran’s Day is Friday??!?
Me: That means it’s Ad’s birthday! OhmygodIhavetobuyhimapresent!!!!
Boss Lady and Coworker just shake their heads. Yep, they know me. Boss Lady makes me order the Kindle right there in front of her to be sure I did it, and get the two-day shipping. (They, um, take care of me, right?)
So yeah, I ordered it, and I got the two day shipping. And he’s gonna have a Kindle! So yay!
But see? I really do suck as a girlfriend.
Other times it’s not so amusing.
This time that W spends at his mother’s house in Florida isn’t easy on him. And sometimes, I get so involved in my own drama of missing him and missing play and missing sex and just being bored out of my fucking mind, that I forget that he’s suffering too, for real, in ways that have nothing to do with play and sex and kink and silliness.
And I regret that.
I wish my Boss Lady would remind me of that every once in awhile.