Ode to Christina
We all have the one friend no one wants to be. The one who does The Disappearing Act when he/she starts dating someone, and then magically reappears when things turn sour.
When I was in high school, my best friend, Christina*, and I did everything together. Things were great – we hung out at school together, were in the same classes, joined the same clubs, and did homework together after school. We actually spent so much time together, that I began losing touch with my other friends, which I didn’t notice until Christina started dating a mutual friend our senior year.
I have always felt responsible for their relationship. I remember spending time on the phone with each of them, getting them to admit their feelings for each other and they actually started dating. There had been confusing times when my friendship with Christina had been tested before, but a boyfriend was the ultimate test. Unfortunately, it was one we failed miserably.
My friendship with Christina slowly deteriorated. She was spending all of her time at school now with her new-found boyfriend, trying to include me as the third wheel. Wanting no part of that, and scared that I was going to be left behind, I realize now that I actually started to push Christina away. If anyone was going to be left behind in this relationship, I sure as hell didn’t want it to be me.
By graduation, the breakup between Christina and me was nearly irreparable. We ended up attending the same university and within a year, Christina ended things with her boyfriend, but our friendship never returned to the way it was. Even now, after so many years and a reconciliation, I know that Christina still feels slightly guilty about how our friendship died when we were in high school. But maybe my defense mechanism is the one to blame.
I’ll never forget having a conversation with one of my closest friends after my fallout with Christina during my senior year of high school. We were talking about what happened, and he said, “Man, it’s like you’re back from the dead.” Did I really seem dead to all my friends? In my grief over my friendship with Christina, I realized I had deserted all of my other friends to be with her. It wasn’t until I feel like a victim of The Disappearing Act, that I managed to recognize I had also been doing The Disappearing Act. I vowed never to do it again. And I promised myself that I would never be the friend who gives up her friends for her boyfriend.
I’ve been in a serious relationship for over three years now, and I have always strived to balance time spent with my boyfriend and time spent with my friends. Since I’ve moved to New York, I’ve had to struggle with this balance less, as all my friends were still in California. However, lately, there has been an influx of college friends, and I feel my social life is about to be resurrected.
My friends have a knack for making me feel guilty for wanting to spend time alone with my boyfriend. Or maybe my guilt from my high school days has yet to wash away from my conscience. Whatever, the reason, I always feel that I have to say “Yes” to my friends, and “No” to my boyfriend. If not for anything more than to prove to my friends that I would never desert them.
My boyfriend is finally coming back to New York tonight after four weeks in Los Angeles. I have been happily anticipating his return (as has he) and we planned to spend tonight having some much-needed time alone. But my friends want to head out tonight, and when I told them why tonight isn’t good for me, on came the guilt-tripping. I know it was all in good fun, but considering my past, it’s not so fun for me.
Was it really so bad that after four weeks with no privacy, I just wanted to have one night alone with my boyfriend? For weeks, we had an unstated plan to be alone tonight. If I headed out, not only would I feel guilty for ditching my boyfriend, but he would probably feel disappointed that I left him on his first night back in town. I felt completely justified in staying home tonight.
Could it be that in my effort to not disappear on my friends, I would start disappearing on my boyfriend? It was then that I had to ask, “When does ditching your friends to be with your boyfriend become ditching your boyfriend to be with your friends?”
Having to choose between your significant other and your friends is a constant tug-o-war, but at least it’s nice to know that you have both sides to choose from. And I know that my friends will understand the times I need to be alone with my boyfriend.
As for my broken friendship, I know things will never be the same with Christina, but we now have a deeper understanding of each other. We’ll always still be there for each other, and there’s a greater sense of independence and individuality on both sides. For that, I will forever be grateful.
*Name has been changed to protect true identity.
When I was in high school, my best friend, Christina*, and I did everything together. Things were great – we hung out at school together, were in the same classes, joined the same clubs, and did homework together after school. We actually spent so much time together, that I began losing touch with my other friends, which I didn’t notice until Christina started dating a mutual friend our senior year.
I have always felt responsible for their relationship. I remember spending time on the phone with each of them, getting them to admit their feelings for each other and they actually started dating. There had been confusing times when my friendship with Christina had been tested before, but a boyfriend was the ultimate test. Unfortunately, it was one we failed miserably.
My friendship with Christina slowly deteriorated. She was spending all of her time at school now with her new-found boyfriend, trying to include me as the third wheel. Wanting no part of that, and scared that I was going to be left behind, I realize now that I actually started to push Christina away. If anyone was going to be left behind in this relationship, I sure as hell didn’t want it to be me.
By graduation, the breakup between Christina and me was nearly irreparable. We ended up attending the same university and within a year, Christina ended things with her boyfriend, but our friendship never returned to the way it was. Even now, after so many years and a reconciliation, I know that Christina still feels slightly guilty about how our friendship died when we were in high school. But maybe my defense mechanism is the one to blame.
I’ll never forget having a conversation with one of my closest friends after my fallout with Christina during my senior year of high school. We were talking about what happened, and he said, “Man, it’s like you’re back from the dead.” Did I really seem dead to all my friends? In my grief over my friendship with Christina, I realized I had deserted all of my other friends to be with her. It wasn’t until I feel like a victim of The Disappearing Act, that I managed to recognize I had also been doing The Disappearing Act. I vowed never to do it again. And I promised myself that I would never be the friend who gives up her friends for her boyfriend.
I’ve been in a serious relationship for over three years now, and I have always strived to balance time spent with my boyfriend and time spent with my friends. Since I’ve moved to New York, I’ve had to struggle with this balance less, as all my friends were still in California. However, lately, there has been an influx of college friends, and I feel my social life is about to be resurrected.
My friends have a knack for making me feel guilty for wanting to spend time alone with my boyfriend. Or maybe my guilt from my high school days has yet to wash away from my conscience. Whatever, the reason, I always feel that I have to say “Yes” to my friends, and “No” to my boyfriend. If not for anything more than to prove to my friends that I would never desert them.
My boyfriend is finally coming back to New York tonight after four weeks in Los Angeles. I have been happily anticipating his return (as has he) and we planned to spend tonight having some much-needed time alone. But my friends want to head out tonight, and when I told them why tonight isn’t good for me, on came the guilt-tripping. I know it was all in good fun, but considering my past, it’s not so fun for me.
Was it really so bad that after four weeks with no privacy, I just wanted to have one night alone with my boyfriend? For weeks, we had an unstated plan to be alone tonight. If I headed out, not only would I feel guilty for ditching my boyfriend, but he would probably feel disappointed that I left him on his first night back in town. I felt completely justified in staying home tonight.
Could it be that in my effort to not disappear on my friends, I would start disappearing on my boyfriend? It was then that I had to ask, “When does ditching your friends to be with your boyfriend become ditching your boyfriend to be with your friends?”
Having to choose between your significant other and your friends is a constant tug-o-war, but at least it’s nice to know that you have both sides to choose from. And I know that my friends will understand the times I need to be alone with my boyfriend.
As for my broken friendship, I know things will never be the same with Christina, but we now have a deeper understanding of each other. We’ll always still be there for each other, and there’s a greater sense of independence and individuality on both sides. For that, I will forever be grateful.
*Name has been changed to protect true identity.
posted by danielle at 2:01 PM
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