How Best is Your Friend?

Because my best friend is pretty fucking amazing. 

The ex hit me up after a few months because he wanted to “talk” and get some “closure,” which to me sounded like total bullshit because if you’re still having unresolved issues about a 3 month relationship 3 months after it’s ended, something suspicious is going on. 

The ex and the best friend never got a long, mostly for vague, petty reasons, and in lieu of a spate of texts from the ex, my best friend and I sat at a bar the previous evening practicing a rather gruesome, drunken, loud brand of character assassination. What can I say, he deserved it. The laundry list of “this is everything you did to me that was wrong” is pretty fucking long, and while I don’t want to spill that information out here (because it’s always embarrassing to call yourself a feminist and then realize that you’ve let a man completely treat you like shit, at which point you wonder: how did I allow myself to let the feminist cause down? It’s a humiliating thought process.) suffice it to say: my god, what was I doing?

I’m weak. At times I can be weak. A sucker. Soft. Sentimental. Which is why when the ex asked to meet up with me yesterday, I quickly caved. Riding the bus to downtown to some cafe for tea and the anxiety of wondering if doing this an hour before work is going to totally ruin my evening. I hope not.

Show up late, and seeing as this is May Day, and we haven’t seen each other in months, and I’m trying to avoid eye contact, obviously. Words parsed out in clipped, quiet sentences while I wonder what the fuck am I doing here and what does he want from me and I’m sleeping with enough awesome, thrown-down-in-the-sackable dudes to warrant me not showing up today, but here I am, being weak and soft and sentimental and unfeminist. Feeling slightly self loathing.

As we’re lingering awkwardly while I wait for my tea and trying to talk, but it’s not really working, and not looking at each other, when all of a sudden, who is it that whisks in the door but my best friend. The part of me that enjoys being emotionally trampled by my sexual partners almost blurts out an apology for her being there, but then I realize that, um, right, I’m the one that told her I was going to be here, with him, and that it would be funny if she showed up, and while I didn’t think she was actually going to show up, tipsy and angry at 7pm to carry through on her threat of tearing him a new asshole, well, there we were: my ex, my best friend, and me, a triad of rage, lust and cruelty. 

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but the ex is not the most emotionally stable, mentally sound person out there. (Because, yeah, what am I gonna do, date someone who’s able to function normally in society? Yeah right!) And when I say “not the most emotionally stable, mentally sound person out there,” I mean that as soon as my best friend showed up to throw some shade, the situation quickly escalated into a full out screaming match in the middle of some cafe on a warm evening in Downtown Oakland. 

it was crazy. On the one hand, there’s the ex, obviously here to throw some type of game at me, but he’s alternating his sentences between yelling at my best friend (with such pithy insults as “you’re too skinny” and “you listen to Selena” – oh, god, I can’t believe I dated someone who can’t verbally spar), and turning to me and saying, “Hey, what’s up with you, Pilar?”

“Yeah, what is up?” I mumble from the other side of my best friend’s tirade. The thing about everything she was saying, though – that’s basically everything I’ve ever said to her about the ex, why he’s a shitty person, and how he treated me like shit. On some weird psychological stage, it was kind of like watching the angry part of my brain spew out everything mean and honest and true I’d ever wanted to say to him, but was too scared to actually say because I’d rather be “nice” than deal with the unholy shit storm that is the ex when he feels like his ego is being attacked. Because that’s what it was whenever I had any form of criticism to lobby his way: a massive verbal attack.

I guess he had shown up today because he wanted to “be friends again” or whatever bullshit it is that exes tell each other. But, obviously, if you’re going to lose your cool while the sun is still shining and in front of a bunch of strangers, if you’re going to yell at my best friend and try to insult her (but, really, homie, you failed, those insults were weak), and then try to talk to me about how you want to be friends – you’re just making a horrible case for yourself. That’s not going to work out. How many times do I have to say, “She’s my best friend, don’t talk to her like that” before you realize that verbally assaulting my best friend isn’t helping your cause in the least bit?

It was disgusting. It made my stomach turn. I wanted to fucking vomit. Seeing anybody get treated that way. When my best friend showed up to support me because she knew that I was making a very bad decision – and to see the ex lose it on her. He tried to spit on her. He got all up in her face, and it even seemed like he was about to hit her, and I can’t believe I even entertained the idea of being friends with someone who can’t act like a fucking adult, someone who immediately resorts to misogyny and hatred when confronted with real issues – he’s obviously about to get the shit kicked out of him by anybody we ask to do it.

On the other hand, I can’t believe how lucky I am to have such an amazing friend on my side who would stick up for me in front of a boy she knows treated me like shit. It was walking into certain danger, because propensity for verbal assault and physical violence were a known in the situation. The fact that there is a woman in my life who is strong enough to not give a fuck when faced with the misogyny and hatred of a physically violent man is such a god damn blessing. Where else in the world can a woman go head to head with a man who is physically stronger than her and know that she’ll win? She’s weighs like 100 pounds! It’s a victory of feminism, and it’s victory of friendship, and it’s a victory for not letting broken men trample over women. 

And in case you don’t know who my best friend is, it’s Arianna. I can’t even begin to tell you how fucking amazing she is, but having her on my team is a blessing. I wish that every woman out there can have a friend like Arianna – she is an advocate, an ally, smarter than the rest of them, crazy brave, inimitable and on top of that smoking hot, which basically makes her the most threatening person you’ve ever met. Fuck. Yeah.

Also, in case you don’t know who my ex is, don’t worry about it. He’s obviously got an ass beating coming to him in the near future for trying to instigate physical altercation with Arianna, but if you’re just DYING  to know, DM me…

Anyways, in conclusion, it’s really fucking sad to see someone I used to bone reveal the extreme depths of his personal shittiness, because part of me wanted to believe that he was, in fact, not the total scum bag piece of shit that Arianna told me he was, but, nope, there he was, proving all of us wrong, because he was in fact way shittier than even Arianna or I could have imagined. However, having friends who will stick up for you and help you out in a moment of weakness: fucking priceless, and I don’t know what I did to earn such amazing friends, but thank you, Jesus!!