On Women

A few months ago, I blogged about being "un-friended" on Facebook by someone I thought would be a friend for a long time. I confessed that the friendship had been through a tough spot or two (being told I put others down to make myself look better, and then subsequently being uninvited from her wedding, or having a total stranger invited along on my birthday celebration so I wouldn't "feel weird being the only single person there") and that in the end, it was a bit of a relief to not have to watch what I say anymore, or to pretend that I supported her staying with her husband, who spent the first six months of their marriage cheating on her with multiple women.

I'm not going to lie. I'm still a little angry. I put a lot of heart into that friendship, and in the end, all I had to show for it was the ripped-up pieces of a letter she wrote me saying "the magic is gone" that I threw in the garbage before scooping the contents of the litter box on top.

I've talked with people about it--mentioning how I was "friend-dumped" via a letter, and what she said in it. Every single person I have spoken to agrees that it's very strange, and that she must have some serious problems in her life to write such a thing to someone she once counted as a friend. In all honesty, every person I've talked to about it has said some variation of, "Wow, she must be miserable." General consensus has been that as I grew happier in myself--as the weight came off, as I found a new confidence that saw me through job loss and unemployment, as I found joy in being silly over a couple of British bands, and making some great new friends through that, she just couldn't stand it.

It's also been said that while she finds herself in her forties, stuck married to a man who repeatedly cheated on her, always wanting to stay in but being dragged to this restaurant and that bar so he can socialize night after night, that she perhaps started to resent that I still represent carefree singlehood and not settling for an asshole out of fear of being alone. Since I met her, she hated being single and would sleep with every inappropriate man available to avoid being by herself.

Yes, there is bitterness in my words. Maybe because 2010 was shaped in some ways, by bitchy women. A woman who would write a letter professing that she wishes me all the best in life, but "the magic is gone" and we just can't save this friendship--that's a bitch. And every stressful situation I endured with one of my supervisors, which resulted in me losing my job--well, she was a bitch, too. And a recent epiphany had me realizing that Ms. Former Boss, divorced, universally disliked, disrespected and feared by her employees, and always striving to project a perfect image--manicured nails, the most stylish clothes, dyed-blonde hair, several coats of makeup--must be a perfectly unhappy human being. Honestly, I can't imagine any aspect of her life that she can find joy in, and now, a year after she wreaked havoc on my career, I'm starting to just pity her. She can't have many people who like her.

I was thinking about these two women recently, and how last year was bookended by these miserable people trying to force their joyless world views into my life--it is easy, sometimes, to start to think that maybe there really is something wrong with me. Maybe I am unlovable, or horrible at my job.

But that's bullshit.

See, in the last year, I've more than made up for the Negative Nellies. I can hardly believe I haven't known my Swimmy's Ladies forever--I've really only "known" them since July, when I started posting more heavily at the Keane Forum. We befriended each other on Facebook. And even then, aside from Maayan, I wasn't really close to any of them until October or November.

It started in September, when I posted a silly caption on the forum. It's one of many silly threads. People post pictures of the band and invite others to make a caption. I came up with this:

It spiralled from there. Suddenly, Mr. Swimmy was a big forum-wide joke. Then, in November, one forum member complained to the forum moderators that we were talking about "the duck" too much and we were admonished by said mod to contain it to one thread.

It almost ruined the joy.

So I went to Facebook and sent a private message to Sarah, Amanda, and Maayan. We joked about starting a club ONLY for women who love Mr. Swimmy. It was agreed that Lindsay needed to be included. So I started a Facebook group and the magic was born.

For Christmas/Chanukkah, I sent each lady a small rubber duck. I already had my own; I found theirs at Michael's. I sent each Swimmy with M&Ms and Hershey's Kisses. I thought they'd get a giggle out of this modest little gift. They did, indeed, and now these silly ducks go with us on our adventures.

Since November, these ladies have been some of the first people I turn to when I'm feeling sad, angry, stressed, happy, giddy, silly. We vent to each other, we send virtual hugs, we send silly gifts in the mail. I've received Jaffa Cakes from England, Stroopwafels (a yummy cookie) from Holland, mix CDs from New York City, and a Snoopy and some other goodies from Detroit. But more than that, whenever my mood needs lifting, I get that from my ladies.

They even went to the Emergency Room with me in October, as I sat on a bed with Albuterol being pumped into my lungs and my hand gripping a small rubber duck hidden in my purse.

When I think of the friendships I've developed with these women, I'm sometimes overwhelmed by how blessed I feel to have them in my life. I haven't yet met any of them in person--though Maayan and I, of course, have our Epic Mumford & Sons Adventure in six weeks and are both over the moon about it--but I know that they have my back. And I have theirs.

The bitches don't bother me so much. I start to realize that Heather "dumped" me not because I'm unlovable, but because she has deep-seated issues she needs to face. I'm able to pity a boss who made a whole year of my life incredibly stressful, who repeatedly set me up to fail and made dishonest remarks about what she saw in my classroom--because in the end, she still works in a sinking school district, she still has an insane commute, and she still has employees who smile at her while sticking the knife in her back. And I am free of all of that.

It's freeing when you can step back and see that the losses weren't really losses, and that anyway, the gains more than made up for the person who repeatedly brought you down.

On Wednesday night, I finally chatted with Lindsay on the phone--our Detroit girl. Somehow, we've had each others' numbers for a while and never managed to talk. We ended up spending about ninety minutes laughing, chatting, and talking about the day--that will come--that all five Swimmy's Ladies land in the same place for a meet-up. Lindsay and Sarah met in January. Amanda will probably meet Sarah this summer. Maayan and I will meet soon. It's just got to happen that someday, all five of us go to a Keane concert together, with five silly rubber ducks riding along. Maybe we'll even get a chance to thank the Keane guys for making the music that brought us together in the first place.

In the meantime, there's email, Facebook, and Snail Mail, and phone calls. And the satisfaction of knowing that I've gained so much more than I've lost.