I know I said I would talk to you yesterday, but quite frankly I was still too emotional and traumatised and distraught to speak about what has happened.
So I came home from work on Monday night as I normally do; battled with my dodgy front door lock, tripped over Ginger, threw my bag and coat wherever and went to the kitchen to make tea and a dinner of some sort.
So has I’m stirring the sugar into my tea (there’s a method: heat cup, add Lyons teabag, pour hot water from a great height, stir and squeeze bag with speed, stir in sugar so it disolved properly, add milk gradually while stirring), in walks Sophie in a super clingy skin dress (not actually made from skin, but she might as well have been naked!). Her hair is all hairsprayed into a Just Had Crazy Sex In The Bathroom tossled look and she’s wearing sultry red lipstick, the kind that usually makes me resemble a clown.
“Oh hey Charlotte,” she said, hunting around for her bag, while trying to close the clasp on her watch. “I didn’t hear you come in”.
“Yeah, just walked in the door there,” I said, and then I added all nonchalantly, “So, are you going out?”
“What? Oh yeah, just going to a gig,” she said, looking under the couch and waving her stupid perky bum at me.
Talk about betrayl! She didn’t HAVE to invite me to her gig, but she could have at least told me she was going and made a half-assed attempt to invite me along, while making it clear she’d rather go alone so I’d kindly decline her offer, but be glad she loved me enough to invite me to something she didn’t want me to go to like a GOOD friend.
“Oh, really?” I said, trying to sound all Whatever, while sipping my tea. “Anything decent?”
“Uhhhhhmmmm…..” she stalled, looking behind a chair. “Uhm, it’s nothing major, just a couple of up-and-coming bands playing. There it is!” she shouted, waving her bag in the air.
“Oh right,” I said, as the metaphorical light in my head switched on. “And who are you going with?” I asked.
“Uhmmmm …..oh, you know,” she said, taking her compact mirror out of her bag and fixing her fringe.
Yeah I think I did, but…
“No, Sophie, actually I don’t,” I replied.
She looked up at me for the first time since she’d entered the room. “Omg Charlotte, you’re not being all bitchy just cos just weren’t invited!? Are you 9-years-old?”
“Well, first of all, as a friend I would’ve expected some sort of invite, yeah. Or if it was something you didn’t want me at, you could’ve explained that too! I’d do that for you!” I said.
She snorted. “When? Like the two times you go out a year? News Flash, I’m normally the reason you go out on the rare occasion you do!”
Wow, my best friend is a bitch.
“Who are you going with, Sophie?” I asked again.
“Whatever,” she said, flicking her hair and heading for the door.
“You can’t even face telling me you’re going with Him, can you?” I said. “You are actually quite possibly the worst friend ever.”
“Oh what!? You think cos you let me move in, you OWN me or that I OWE you something?” she shouted.
“No, but as a friend I figured you owed me some loyalty!” I shouted back.
“So just because you’ve been obsessing over a guy you’ve lived across the hall from for a YEAR and never made a move on and probably never WILL, I’m not allowed go on a date with him even though he was ALL OVER ME!?” she screamed.
“Yeah that’s right,” she said. “He asked me. One conversation and I got a date with him. Maybe he likes girls who can actually talk to the opposite sex. Grow up, Charlotte.”
She turned and walked out of the room.
I decided to take the higher mature road, and as soon as I saw her leave the building, I put my coat on and went to the shop to buy a tub of Phish Food.
Was she always a bitch and I’m only seeing it now?
Or is she right and I’m being selfish.
Right now, the only thing I’m sure of it that a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, followed by a pizza, followed by a bottle of wine is NOT a healthy combination for your stomach.