Something it's not

I can only give you everything I've got...

Last Friday, yesterday in fact, I was at work - a company that I've been a part of for the better of three years. During my time here I've had the pleasure of meeting some incredible people - some people that I still keep in touch with despite them leaving for bigger and better opportunities. Last summer I was introduced to my still-co worker now, let's call her "Rebecca", and she and I became fast friends. We thought alike, spoke alike, had the same interests, same sense of humour, hell even similar pasts (THAT was the freaky part). Anyways Rebecca and I soon exchanged cell phone numbers and had many a lunch date that reflected our similar interests and the friendship seemed to be off to a swimming start.

The introduction to other new co-workers, 1 in particular, let's call her "Addie" made for some interesting conversations, ideas and of course, outings. One night in the summer, I'm guessing it was sometime back in August or maybe September... I'm guessing August as it was still warm enough to go out clubbing without jackets and I wasn't buried under a mountain of schoolwork. Anyway one night in the summer, after Addie and I and my friend Chris had been drinking since around 5:15 pm - we ended up at a bar in the heart of the Market. It was the same night that ended with me being followed by the handsome stranger from Montreal that I had been dancing with on-and-off during the night; some parts were getting pretty hot, others not so much. It was a crowded dance floor, I was drunk, and having a good time. So was Addie, who managed to get drinks from almost every single available man on the floor. Rebecca had arrived late and as such was nowhere near as tipsy as the rest of us were, and since she is engaged she declined to, well, engage, in the flirtation game that Addie and I were so enjoying.

The night ended and we all went our seperate ways - but back at the office when our co-workers who declined to join us asked for details, they were stymied with our pact of "If you weren't there; you weren't there" - kind of like "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas".

That is.. until Friday at lunch.

I can't even recall where and how this night came up, but near the end of lunch after we had regalled some tame moments of the night, Rebecca thought it to be funny to look me straight in the eye and say "I saw Carrie give this guy a lapdance".

I could feel the fire in my cheeks turn my brown skin red as the entire table of co-workers, many of which I respect and respected me (punctuation on purpose) turned in shock and surprise, their eyes searching for an explination or an adament rejection of something so terrible coming from such a sweet girl as myself. I took a breath and paused - unable to recall the specifics of the evening with the weight of embarassment crushing my shoulders and my chest. In fact I don't think I even had the mindset to defend myself as I was so shocked that Rebecca, someone I had considered one of my friends moreso than co-workers, would so publically and openly paint me with a scarlet brush.

Knowing that I had mere seconds to defend myself I admitted that I did dance with the guy; he was a good dancer. We danced most of the evening. And I do remember grinding with this guy - and I do remember that one moment he was standing and the next he was sitting; but we were still dancing and his hands were still on my hips. But the way that she said it made it seem, and the looks on my other co-workers faces support my interpretation of her interpretation, that I was practically naked and straddeling him, front to back, on a high-rising stage, suggestively moving my hips and body just for his pleasure and enjoyment. I don't know about you, but when someone says 'lapdance' I picture something along the lines of a strip club with a practically naked professional grinding front and back, stuffing some man's face into her ample clevage where he leaves dollar bills. And let me tell you - that was NOT what happened.

I was dancing with him. That is all. It was a crowded and packed dance floor with little space to breathe, let alone dance. It was around 1:00 am, so we were tired. I remember my legs hurting and being grateful to sit for a little bit - it just so happened to be on his CLOTHED lap. But that's not what Rebecca, and now the rest of the company, thinks. Now I'm a whore, or at the very least, less respected than I was before.

And for that - I'm insulted. I'm insulted that Rebecca, someone I had considered to be more of a friend, would embarass and insult me so publically and so non-chalantly, like it was comperable to proclaiming what colour my shirt was that day. She did it without a moments hesitation; knowing that her interpretation and her delivery was both excessive and painted a far worse picture of yours truly than what the truth revealed. And, of course, how this will inevitably degenerate into me turning tricks on the guy on stage completely naked, and then going home with him, and me waking up with 400$ next to the bedside.

Half of me wishes to get even; for my little 'show' as she puts it is nowhere NEAR as slutty as her on Halloween - slutty enough to get her fiance mad enough at her.. mad enough to leave the bar with her jacket and keys... all without telling her. Slutty enough for her to destroy all the pictures of her, the majority of them capturing her signature dance move of bending over to anything and anyone. Slutty enough for her to be on Facebook, tagged as the "naughty nurse" with her leg around strangers, guys and girls, without hesitation.

But the other half of me ... doesn't. 2 wrongs don't make a right, and although Rebecca chooses to be my very own US magazine, telling stories with partial truths to get the attention and fame she desperately needs... it's not my style for me to do it to her, or anyone for that matter. I don't judge; the very next day after her tryst at the bar on Halloween I met her for a day of shopping as she didn't want to deal with her fiance; I continued to go out with her for a few drinks here and there; I participated in her Secret Santa exchange; I booked her graduation dinner; hell, I even gave her a free week of tanning at my former roommates place of employment. And this is how she shows her friendship to me, by bad-mouthing me with half truths to my peers?

I decided to keep my mouth shut in and outside the lunchroom - shaking my head and rolling my eyes. I tried my very best to not get bent out of shape for a night that happened almost 9 months ago when clearly, without going into detail, there were others in the room, Rebecca included, who acted worse than I at company functions - not something on their own personal time. And I will not share the story of Halloween to anyone else but her if I decide to confront her for Friday's lunch; I take no pleasure in telling other peoples stories and spreading rumours and lies - because if you do that too often, soon enough you'll run out of people to have stories to tell about.

But herein lies the question: do I confront her, and if I do, what do I say? How do you tell someone that they've betrayed you, that what they said - although it was in public and yes they did see it, was both uncalled for and particularily cruel... Something you would expect from an acquaintance that you didn't really get along with as supposed to someone you consider a friend?

I think that the fact that I even have to confront her - that this has to happen, is what's making me so sad. I guess I'm not used to friends doing that to each other.

Red Fridays

On the road again...

I don't know if I mentioned this, but Angelica's fiance, Joe, is in the army. Not too long ago I received an email from Angelica, which is normally a happy moment of distraction in my otherwise dull and work-laden existance. Anyway it was an email saying that Joe had just received his 'posting' if you must - where he will be stationed until their wedding. And let's just say that from where he is now and where he will be, it's a bit too far for comfort - Angelica's and mine.

I've known quite a few people who have enlisted in the army, and I'm sure that everyone who reads this does as well. I don't have to rehash the wonderful sacrifices these brave men and women gladly make for the glory and love of their country and her allies, but what about the ones they leave behind? Perhaps I am biased because Angelica and I are a part of those the ones we love leave, but every member of family - whether it be biological, friendship or just plain old indescribable (read; Angelica & I) - is affected. Not only does it mean that Joe will be far away until the wedding, or that my dear friend, let's call her Marilyn, leaves for training in just under a week for her 'mission' - it means that Angelica and I will join the sisterhood of the ones they left behind.

Oh - that and after the wedding in the summer, she'll be relocating to that far away place until... well, until they're stationed somewhere else. Meaning that within the space of a year I'll be watching 3 of my greatest girlfriends leave this city to follow their dreams and begin their new lives.

And that makes me so sad.

Before I met them - I got along just fine. Well no, I lie, but I also didn't know any better. And now that I have met them I couldn't get along with out them - I can't imagine my life without them. Sure phone calls and emails and mail-love is just great - but there is just something about sleepovers, 2 am junk food runs, showing up at Angelica's falling down drunk just to manage to sober up before going to the bar, sitting in Christie's car for hours upon end talking about absolutely nothing, managing to pick up just where Marilyn and I left off as if we had seen each other every day of our lives... those somethings just can't be replaced. And I wouldn't want them to be - because those girls are irreplaceable.

I know I wrote about the awkwardness of being the Fifth Wheel (which I am sure we have all or will all experience in our lives) last time I mentioned my girlfriends, but really in the end that one night doesn't matter, or at least pales in comparison to all the love that we've shared, all the memories we've salvaged through pictures, and all the cards and gifts that are strewn across our rooms as constant reminders of the impact we've had on each others lives.

It's always painful when loved ones leave - even when you're lucky enough for them to be just a plane ride away. But you worry for them - Will they be safe? Will they find new friends? Will they forget the old ones? Will you forget them? I highly doubt that Angelica and Christie will ever be erased from my memory (or my hard drive) and I know that our friendship is strong enough to survive anything but... I guess all of you out there with girlfriends as special as these ones will understand the sensation that when they leave, it feels as if 1/3 of you is missing.

But at the same time - if you love something or someone, you let them go - and even if they don't ever permanently come back to where you were, to where Angelica, Christie and I used to be, I know they'll always be mine. Just like I'll always be theirs.

The Fifth Wheel

Last weekend I was dragged out by Angelica, her fiance Joe, Christie and her soon to be ex boyfriend, let's call him Paul... 2 couples in love and a little drunk, all set for a cold but shenanigan filled night on the town. Oh, and me. So you can imagine just how excited I was as the no longer single but still fabulous third, well make that fifth wheel in a mele of drunk, loud, affectionate couples holding hands while I held on to my new Coach purse, walking down the street either in front of or behind the 2 happy couples.

No worries, I thought to myself, as I tried in vain to convince myself that as soon as we got to the bar things would magically get better, the awkwardness would subside to reveal glimpss of the good old times Angelica, Christie and I had before we went our separate ways. I mean, that's what the weekend was about, right? Angelica had made the trip and now that she was here she was planning on making good all the promises we made each other on an epic night out, Summer of Fun style. Not to say that she didn't; oh no. I saw her every day and enjoyed every minute I spent with her but man oh man, when we got to the bar, holy hell was it ever awkward for yours truly.

Apparently I didn't get the memo, but I guess the once dominant singles to couples ratio normally found at the bar has switched, and with the exception of other socially akward people, the majority of the crowd out last night was plus one. And boy did I ever feel like a zero. I mean, seriously: If I was a single girl again in this situation I think I would have lost my mind. Since when did coupled people collectively decide to take over the single scene, leaving the stragglers to either pair up out of desperation or boredom, or as I did for the majority of the night, stand around saying nothing and having nothing said to me save for the scraps of conversations the couples managed to throw my way.

Please imagine how much fun I was having.

But here's the thing; I'm no longer single, so even playing my usual game of 'how many numbers can I get in one night' was completely out of the question, which left me with the only option of standing around waiting until the couples got tired and hungry and wanted to leave. (Did I mention that everyone was crashing at my apartment and I had the only key? Yeah. Otherwise I would have gone home, slipped away unnoticed until the next morning at our greasy spoon breakfast place).

I had written before about my intense dislike of needing a boyfriend in order to hang out with my girlfriends during my single summer, but now that I've found myself in a relationship I thought I had fulfilled the requirements to avoid any and all couple-y awkward social events. I guess with Vegas not here we've put ourselves in this grey area of having a significant other without having a significant other - especially when we need or want them around. I ended up text-messaging with him until close to 3:00 in the morning, my pathetic attempt to experience the sensation of everything and anything falling away to the sound (or in my case, image) of your lovers voice.

On the one hand I completely understand where Angelica and Joe are coming from. They too are long-distant lovers who hardly get to see each other, let alone do the usual couple stuff together. And Christie and Paul? Well, let's just say their relationship is special. And yeah, when couples go out together it really is only a matter of time until they lose interest in any other person than the one they are going home with. And that's lovely...if you're a part of a couple.

But on the other hand, knowing that this will inevitably, eventually, and always happen - why invite or drag or nest at a single or separated friend out when clearly she's that one thing that's not like the others; one of these things that's not quite the same. Even in my familiar territory of single and fabulous I felt not quite the same - to be perfectly honest, I felt useless, like a vintage accessory that's just gone out of style. And considering that I just got a boyfriend, that's pretty lame. I can't help but wonder in the cold and sober morning if this is my new coupled future - reveling in the grey area of taken but single, flying solo while surrounded by pairs. Because seriously, that future sucks.