“So how’s your week been?” she asks.
“Uneventful. Surprise, surprise.” Though I haven’t talked to her since my trip home last weekend, I’m not ready to relive my egg-freezing conversation with my mom. Also, if weddings aren’t really Jordan’s thing, even less so are babies.
“Uneventful is fine,” she says. “I, personally, could use more uneventful in my life.”
I can see her mind trying to make the shift from work troubles to enjoying her Friday night and decide to help her.
“So, I’ve been taking your advice and doing some self-reflection,” I venture, and Jordan raises her eyebrows in interest. “This week I read a book about relationships and another on finding your dream job. And don’t laugh,” I warn, sheepishly lowering my voice. “But I’ve even been journaling.”
Jordan laughs anyway.
“Hey!” I protest.
“Don’t worry.” She puts her hand on my arm and tries to stifle her giggles while she says seriously, “I’m laughing with you, not at you.” I’m not so sure and give her a dirty look while she continues, “You were always such a type A student. It just fits the mold.”
I roll my eyes since Jordan was much more studious during college than I was—pot, kettle, black.
“Yeah, well, sitting at home alone watching Bravo wasn’t getting me anywhere, and I felt I needed some outside help to organize my spinning thoughts. So I’ve been reading and thinking about what went wrong with Neil and work and what to do next.”
“Wow! I’m impressed. That’s a lot.” In her best therapist voice, she asks, “And how is that going?”
“It’s been insightful.” I bob my head as if it’s full of deep insights. I pause. “Truth be told … it’s also been a little ugly.”
She frowns at me. “Sorry, my friend, but nothing about you is ugly.”
“That’s kind of you to say, but there’s some harsh truths I probably need to face. Do you mind if I play neurotic best friend?”
“Go for it.” Jordan makes a gesture as if to give me the floor.
“So I know you said I lost a little of myself when I started dating Neil. But I’m wondering, how much did I change?” Jordan narrows her eyes at me as if she’s not sure of the scope of my question. “Or, phrased another way, what was I like before Neil versus after Neil?”
“Hmmm. …” She taps her chin and looks thoughtful as she considers this. “I wouldn’t say you changed. But, sure, some things changed. How truthful do you want me to be here?” She peers at me carefully. “How fragile are we feeling?”
“I have one strong drink in me, so I can handle the truth. But by the second drink I might be a little emotional. So it’s probably best to give it to me straight now.”
“Fair enough.” She takes a deep breath. “When you started dating Neil, it was obvious that you wanted the long-term relationship, the eventual ring, kids, and that whole white-picket-fence suburban deal.” She makes a gagging gesture. “So, yes, everything became about Neil. Saying that, I can’t say that anything else about you ‘changed’ because you’ve always had the habit where once you start dating a guy you make him the center of your universe.”
I cringe. While I sort of already knew that about myself, it doesn’t mean I like hearing it from someone else.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I know all the advice out there says not to forget your friends when you have a new boyfriend, but we all do it anyway. And, frankly, during those blissful first few months when you’re still learning about each other and having sex like rabbits, we should be allowed to cocoon ourselves away from the rest of the world and enjoy it. But I have to say that you definitely take it further than that. Remember Kyle in college? Did you really have to go to every single one of his football games?” She drawls out this last question.
“I was being a supportive girlfriend.”
She looks up heavenward, and I can tell she’s not buying it. “Then did you also have to go to every single one of his frat parties? You didn’t even like those parties. You don’t even drink beer!” She points an accusing finger at me.
“True, and so much for my being a supportive girlfriend. The first party I missed, he hooked up with another girl.” Ah, the memories.
“Mm-hmm.” Jordan widens her eyes and nods to emphasize her point. “Kyle was a dirtbag. You centered your life around him, and he cheated on you anyway.”
I nod sadly, recognizing the trend here. “But, hey, I invited you to all those games and parties. You were there too.”
“I had no choice. If I wanted to spend time with you, I had to fit our friendship in around Kyle the Dirtbag’s activities. And looking back, I don’t believe Kyle attended any of my events.”
“Wow. I suck. I’m sorry, Jor. Thank you for still being my friend.” I jump off my chair to envelop her in a hug.
“Okay, okay, all is forgiven.” She pats my back briskly. “So what have we learned from this?”
I sit back down on my chair and hold up my thumb as if I’m getting ready to make a list. “When dating someone new—don’t forget my friends.”
“No, no. You already know that rule. We all learned that in high school.” She pokes me in the shoulder. “Rule number one is to make sure you’re fitting into each other’s lives rather than you just fitting into his. If you’re showing up for him, then he needs to also show up for you.”
This sounds a lot like my new rule of not giving up who I am for a guy.
“You’re right. And, anyway, what’s the point of all that investing if a guy is going to cheat on me anyway?” I motion the server for a second round. “I think we’re moving onto the ‘feeling sorry for myself’ portion of the evening.”
“Oh, stop! This is empowering! You’re learning from your mistakes.” Jordan, a former psych major in college, is getting into this role of agony aunt. “So I would also add that the next time you start dating someone seriously, give the relationship some breathing room. Perhaps you would’ve discovered Kyle and Neil’s true cheating colors much earlier and moved onto better things before wasting so much time with those losers.” Her tone is bitter at the end, and I lean back a little in shock. She pats my arm reassuringly. “Sorry. I guess this is the portion of the evening where my true feelings come out. This is all very cathartic.”
“No offense taken. You’re right about all of it.” I fiddle with the straw in my drink, moving around the ice cubes as I absorb all this insight. “Wow, I’ve never thought of myself as insecure, but I guess deep down I am.”
“I don’t think it’s that. It’s more like you don’t want to fail or something. So you put everything into whatever it is you want and sometimes to the exclusion of other things.”
“O-kay,” I say, slowly, though still thinking maybe it’s because I’m masking some sort of insecurity, but I’m willing to hear an alternative insight. “But it sounds like I’ve also been failing as a friend by putting the guy first. Sorry about that.”