First of all, I’m actually getting tired of bitching about my own fucked-up friendships. This is good news. By getting tired of it, I am moving on! But there are still some important things to address.
Now, the basic gist lately has been some epic shit happened, I got totally fed up, and was accused of being passive-aggressive, among lots of other things. One of these things was treating my non-heterosexual friends like they don’t have feelings or like they’re “props.”
I’ve already briefly touched on some of the points associated with this, mainly the hypocrisy of it right after I was accused of “playing the victim.” The other big one was numerous misinterpretations about who I am and attacks on my character, and I’ll talk more about that later because obviously I still do have a lot to say, but also at some point, identity crisis came a little into play here–basically, part of the problem was the role I was playing in my social group and feeling like I couldn’t be myself.
I had multiple moments over this conversation and since then where I felt as though the very essence of who I am has been misunderstood. They’re basically “Oh, shit,” moments.
I’m not sure where this idea of me being intentionally shitty to my non-heterosexual friends because of their sexuality came from. Really, the accusation implies that I’ve done all these things intentionally, when I’ve established numerous times that’s not the case, so that’s the first problem. As far as the accusation that these things were done because the people are involved aren’t heterosexual, I really don’t know what to say, except…that’s absurd.
It’s baseless, too. I happened to accidentally hurt people with statements completely unrelated to sexuality at all, for one thing, and that I didn’t even think were hurtful to begin with. Otherwise, you know, I wouldn’t have said them (the one exception is a statement I don’t believe I actually made and perhaps some fleeting, silly statements that were blown way out of proportion and led to accusations of making a conversation all about me). I think someone realized the people mad at me aren’t heterosexual, which turned into a reason for all of this.
That reason ignores a lot, the most obvious being a friend in a homosexual relationship who actually is not upset with me and thought this was all blow out of proportion and handled poorly. Now, if I treat my non-heterosexual friends like “props” and like they don’t have feelings, how is it that this person doesn’t feel that way? While in the beginning of the relationship many aspects were concerning, things have since improved to the point that I’m encouraging her to bring her girlfriend to Stephanie’s wedding next weekend (girlfriend is unfortunately refusing, and I suspect the Craigs are maybe part of the reason). Why am I the only one that stayed at her 4th of July party? Why do I sleep in the same bed/couch as her every time we spend the night somewhere? Why do we remain pretty good friends? Why, when I flat out asked her if she’d been secretly mad at me for months, as well, did she tell me no?
The phrase “gay best friend” was specifically used against me, which was interesting because I had recently used it in a direct @ mention on Twitter to someone else I’m pretty sure he doesn’t follow, meaning he’d have to be going directly to my Twitter feed to see it. Meaning he for some reason wants to see everything I have to say (I suspect this desire is also why Twitter was never cited as one of my original offenses–if someone doesn’t know you’re watching, they’ll keep talking and you can keep watching without them censoring themselves…and you can keep using it all against them).
First, some backstory: I was referring to dear friend Bobby, who was one of my best friends and happened to be gay. His sexuality is never relevant–except when speaking of when I took him to my senior prom. Even then, it’s only relevant because all the other couples were fighting with their dates, while I took a friend I knew I’d have fun with who caused no drama and practiced what he learned in massage-therapy classes on my back all night long (to this day, Bobby gives better back massages then anyone else–obviously).
Other than trying to concisely tell the story of prom in 140 characters, I don’t refer to Bobby as “my gay best friend” pretty much ever. Would it have made much of a difference if I’d just said “gay friend” either way? Doubtful.
Finally, Bobby also has a lot to do with my “Oh, shit,” moment.
The person accusing me of treating non-heterosexual friends like “props” hasn’t even known me for two years yet and certainly hasn’t heard my life story. Beyond that, it’s clear he’s completely misunderstood me, though I suspect a lot of that has to do with just being pissed off. He may just be looking for a reason or another place to put blame. There’s no blame to place. Shit happens. I made a simple mistake. That’s all there is to it.
Much like the other non-heterosexual in the equation, my friendship with Bobby isn’t damaged. We’ve slightly fallen out of touch, but we’re both busy adults now living an hour plus apart from each other. He’s had his issues and we’ve been through some intense shit together, some of which may have been done for attention, but in the end, he’s still one of the best friends I’ve ever had.
We’ve had a lot of great times, and we’ve had a lot of hard ones, including spats of depression, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm. I’ve cried with him. I’ve cried for him. I’ve chased him down the street. I’ve talked him down. I’ve lost sleep and missed class worrying about him. We’ve held each other. We’ve watched movies in his bed after a really hard day. We’ve fallen asleep spooning on a couch after a really hard night.
Some of this was witnessed by two of the three non-heterosexuals involved in this kerfuffle. They did nothing but watch, complain the next day, and ignore his apologies.
So to anyone who has ever thought I treat my non-heterosexual friends as “props” or like they don’t have feelings–fuck you. Don’t fucking tell me that. You don’t know what I’ve been through, how much I’ve cared, and what I’ve done. On the flipside, you also don’t know how much these people have done for me, too. They’ve been there for me. You haven’t. So fuck right off.