A Post About My Friend the Amazonian

I have a girl friend going through a divorce.

Well, I guess I always have a friend going through divorce.

What can I say, there’s too much hate in the world.

Though none of them would say that straight out.

“I hate my husband.” or “I hate my wife.”

But how they raise their tone of voice when they’re explaining every way in which they’ve been wronged… The only thing further from love at that point is revenge.

Nevertheless, I’d be the last person to argue the benefits of staying in an abusive marriage.

I mean abusive psychologically or physically.

Most of my friends don’t think you should leave your husband if he is being psychologically abusive; only physically.

Then again, most of them aren’t suicidal.

But this post isn’t about me, it’s about my friend.

This friend is the human version of Wonder Woman.
Works full-time. Babysits her siblings’ kids. Volunteers helping people with special needs and doing heavy duty construction work. Gets up early on her days off to go to the gym. Is always out to dinner with a different party of people who all think she’s great at everything.
I don’t know anyone under 30 who doesn’t think she’s fabulous.

We aren’t very much alike.
But, like me, this friend has a dark side.
And similar to me, no one really knows about it.

Except us two. And now all my subscribers. We are the only ones who know each others’ dark sides.

I can’t say she’s my best friend because if I did, she’d probably stop talking to me within a couple weeks.

(I’m jinxed, don’t ask).

And besides, she is such an over-achiever I don’t usually feel I can be myself around her.

She’s the only person on earth I can talk to freely about men, but I can’t, for example, just break out mid-sentence into a song, the way I do with my less mature friends.

Her personality type is very similar to that of my husband’s: self-confident, stubborn, well-learned, routine, eloquent, righteous for the most part, good joke-tellers, the kind of people who lead a conversation in a room full of people who have very little in common with one another.

The kind of people who are right 99.9% of the time.

And if they’re not, they are so smart they will reason with you to the point that you become convinced that they are.

In other words, quite wonderful people, indeed.

In any case, what I’m trying to get at is, I haven’t been very cheerful lately, in case you have not noticed.

I had some great post ideas for this blog this week, ranging from, “How to Cheer Up Your Cat” to “How to Tell If Your Cat is Lethally Poisoned.”

Naboo is doing a lot better (assuming I not only have subscribers, but that they care about my cat) and she is under medication for another week or so.


It was just a tough week in general but God I can’t stand optimists when all I want to do is sulk.

So usually this girl friend and I spend most Saturday mornings together.

But then she texted me a little while ago about how exhausted she is but how great she feels and I’m just like aaaaaaaah stop please and then I made myself throw up.

Just kidding. I really didn’t. But the reflex was there.

She always has these super exciting stories about all the guys that hit on her.

Mine ran out about a year ago; I don’t know what happened.

Maybe I stopped flirting.
That’s it.

I was afraid that if I spent tomorrow morning with her I’d just look irritable and bitter.

She can’t stand people like that.

That’s part of the reason she’s getting divorced. (5%?)

It’s not like I have anything new to say.
I mean, “My cat was sick but she’s fine now,” what- that takes up four seconds, no? Thereabouts?

“I still don’t have a new job prospect.”

“I still can’t afford to move to another place.”

And then she’ll go on and on for the next 2-4 hours about all the men she’s trying to avoid because she just has this magnet personality but is not interested in anyone except the one she’s interested in, whom she cannot have and even if she could she wouldn’t want him.

Ok, she doesn’t say, “I have a magnet personality;” it’s just something I infer as an observational listener.

And then what am I supposed to say?

“Someone called me last week but I guess it was a wrong number.”

“Have they called again?”


Then we’ll just stare at the surfers awkwardly for a minute or so and she’ll mention she doesn’t find any of them attractive.

Of course not.
Why would she?
She’s Amazonian.




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