To this day, I’m not quite sure what I did. I’m certain it must have been something completely unforgivable, but I would hope that if this were the case, I’d at least be aware of whatever sin I’d committed. Hell, maybe it’s so incredibly stupid that I’m better off not knowing, because knowing would inflame my already heightened sense of rage (Hi! I’m Becky, and I’m a Rage-A-Holic!)
Let me back up for a moment.
I met Jenna when I transferred colleges in 2002. We were both on track for the nursing program, which meant that we were working for one year to fill the gaps in our credits before we began our clinical training. As fate would have it, we were in a couple of classes together, and fueled by a mutual love of nicotine and Diet Coke, we became fast friends.
She was exactly the sort to become one of my friends: she was both stunningly beautiful and cracked my ass up, like all of my female friends (You’re all welcome for the compliment. I know, I know I’m too kind. I’ll be checking my mail for extravagent Christmas gifts starting later this week, guys. In case you’re planning ahead, which I suggest that you do.). We had loads of fun together.
She wasn’t accepted into The Program with me, so she transferred to another college farther away, right around the same time that I started dating The Daver. We kept in touch, but between my insane rotations, my quickly growing son, and my new relationship, we grew increasingly distant.
(I admit to The Internet at large, when I began to date The Daver, I became more neglectful of each of my friends. While I am aware that just about everyone does this with a New Relationship, I am still sorry for succumbing to it. It’s not cool and it’s not fair.)
Whew. With that white elephant stuffed rightfully back into the closet, I shall try to get back to the point.
When I got engaged, I asked my best friend Ashley to be my Maid of Honor for several very good reasons: she’s as OCD as I am, she knew/knows more about weddings than I do, and she was around more often than Jenna was. She pretty much ran my wedding for me because I asked her to (damn you Dave, for not letting me get married by Elvis in Vegas, dance down the aisle to “That’s The Way, Uh-Huh, Uh-Huh, I Like It,” and insisting that our first dance NOT be “YMCA!” You’re NEVER going to live this down.) and she did a damn fine job, just as I knew that she would. If I can’t have good taste, I’m smart enough to know people that do.
Before I’d met The Daver, before I had a serious boyfriend OR the prospect of one on the horizon, Jenna and I had agreed to be each other’s maid of honor, something that I vaguely remembered when I asked her to be my bridesmaid. Honestly, between her clinical schedule AND living really far away from me, I was sure that she’d have been thrilled to have dodged that bullet. *I* would have been.
She was decidedly Not Happy, and the prospect of being a bridesmaid NOT a maid of honor miffed her until I offered that she AND Ashley share the burden together. Duel maid of honor to match the two best men on Dave’s side. Sweetness, I thought, this is going just swimmingly.
We all went as a big fucking happy family to get measured for our dresses together, as we were having them custom made, and drama was avoided. Everyone got along, which is saying something because there were eight of us that day. Dress designs were hashed out, swatches chosen, and pick up dates were established. Plans were afoot for a bridal shower, and life just kept on trucking.
A couple of weeks passed when I realized that Jenna was not returning my phone calls. Being as irritating as I can be when I cannot get ahold of someone (very, very annoying. Trust me), I continued calling. When I got no response, I started emailing. To all of her email addresses. I had Ashley email her.
Becoming increasingly concerned for her well-being, as she was not the sort to drop off the face of the planet, I increased my efforts ten-fold. Twenty-fold. Finally, as a last resort, I had a mutual friend email her. She received an immediate response.
It was then when I realized that she was infuriated with something that I’d done and I was getting The Silent Treatment. Which is potentially the most horrid thing that you can do to me. Yell at me, berate me, pee in my mail box (please don’t pee in my mail box): fine, I can handle that. WHATEVER you do, don’t ignore me. I cannot take it.
Giving it one last shot, I sent one more email, and called one more time, explaining that I wasn’t going to be calling her anymore and apologizing for whatever it was that I’d done.
I’ve not heard from her since.
Now, I’m fairly certain that she had her panties in a wad (oh, the search terms. OH, the search terms!) over being asked to be a bridesmaid NOT a maid of honor, although this decision was months away from the dress fitting, and I’d heard nothing more about it since then. But I can never be sure, and maybe that’s why this bothers me to this day, nearly three years later.
I have a terrible time saying goodbye to just about anything, really. For being a fairly unemotional person, I’m incredibly sentimental. It’s one thing when a friendship grows apart due to the natural progression of things, but it’s something completely different when you are simply dropped without so much as a whisper.
Moreover, I just miss having her in my life. So few people really get me, and she happened to be one of those people who did. I frequently consider reaching out to her again, sending her a letter saying, shit I don’t know, whatever it is that you say to someone who goes from being one of your best friends to dropping out of your wedding. I’m sorry? I miss you? I am sorry and I do miss her, that’s for sure.
But has too much time passed? If this friendship could be salvaged, should it be? My anger has absolutely fizzled out, so it’s not as though I still have an axe to grind with her: she had her reasons for doing what she did, and mayhap they are good ones and mayhap they are not, but it’s ancient history now (aside from me still whining to Dave about not taking me to Vegas. That may never end.).
So Dear Internet, what would YOU do if you were in my shoes?