Friends Don’t Let Friends…

Posted: October 28, 2013 in Self-Deprecation
Tags: , , ,

That introduction can go in so many directions…  Sure, friends don’t let friends drive drunk.  Friends don’t let friends drink cheap scotch.  Friends don’t let friends drink and dial.  Et cetera… et cetera… ad nauseum.  As true as these adages may be, there’s one thing– first and foremost– that friends most certainly don’t let friends do: stay in abusive relationships.

And now you just laughed again.

That’s right, you just laughed at a domestic violence joke.

Oh shit yes, here comes the soap box– because you know what?  I’ve been there, and I’m not talking “damn near” either.  That’s right, before I hit the jackpot with Cortana– yeah I’ve been in some pretty dark places, and for once I’m ignoring the clearly hilarious sex joke.  It’s just too easy.  Then again, apparently so was I.  Point number one: if the vast majority of your friends do not like your significant other– it’s usually for a fucking fantastic reason.  Yes, this is a warning sign– one that you’ve already seen, but you’re also deluding yourself to believe, “it’s just because they don’t know what’s really going on.”

This is true… they probably don’t… but they know enough.

The tactics are the same, said douchebucket starts off by making things hunky-fucking-dory like Barney shit sprinkles all the fuck over it.  This part is key later on, so stay tuned, because our little victim won’t (notice I didn’t say can’t) let the sprinkles go and realize that they’ve got a pile of shit on their hands.

Yeah, that’s because it really isn’t all bad.  That’s the commonality for all fucked up relationships in this category.  Whether it’s someone throwing haymakers, or things of the more verbal/psychological/emotional slant– it’s never 100% bad.  Why?  Because hope is a dragnet, one that gives that one glimmering thought that it could get better– like it was before.

Guess what:  it doesn’t.


’nuff said.

Take it from a fucking writer who has a degree in this shit– when you say, “it’s not that bad,” you are still saying, “it’s bad.”

This is the mentality friends get to deal with.  There’s that mental image of glorious bygone days where things were magical.

Remember that when you see the telltale signs– social isolation, consequences for hanging out with certain friends, knock-down drag-out fights, constant complaining about the beta excuse for a human they’re involved with…  These things may be obvious, but you’re not on easy street: your friend still knows best in their fucked up little head.  Say what you need to, do what you have to, because they won’t cooperate when they know full well you are right.  Whether it’s Stockholm Syndrome, or Munchausen Syndrome, or deliberate stupidity– it won’t matter.  They may even agree with the arguments you’re making.  Remember, it’s not that badIt’s just bad enough for them to bitch to you about it via phone/text/etc.  This also means they’re only telling you, at best, 65% of what’s really going on.

That’s why, when you notice shit going down in the first place, you need to put the hammer of proper standards and practices down– when you still may wield said banhammer.  You have a very small window of time to swing it before your words mean something between jack and shit– and Jack left town.

I, unfortunately, am in this very situation– as feckless as a eunuch in a harem…  I know what’s going to happen, I see the writing on the wall, shit– I’ve been there in ways I can’t even admit to myself…  So I have to do something that’s insanely hard for me to do, especially to the person who called me “loyal to a fault”–  I have to turn my back…

… It’s not that I’ve any reason to invoke the infamous “dead to me” list.   In fact, bowing my head in shame (because I didn’t convey enough impact in the first place) and sticking my head wayyyyyyyy up my ass is the only thing I have left in my arsenal.

Why?  I don’t have the stomach to watch a suicide.



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