See, there’s this friend I’m not fond of. Oh, I’ve tried to get to know her better, bend to her whims, go along with her fancies. I’m just not sure this is leading anywhere. I like her. I just don’t want to accommodate her anymore. She makes plans, then alters them. And alters them again. Sometimes again.
Nothing amiss comes of these changes. I’m just tired of them. They interrupt the flow, break up the rhythm. Conversations between friends, there are no hard and fast rules, but they shouldn’t be monologues, should they? Where questions from the other side are cheerfully stepped on? I try to enter, but it seems the topic is one where only one person can do all the talking and that person does ALL THE TALKING.
I don’t want to hurt feelings, I just want to eat something. But I can eat better and more adventurously on my own. I can think my thoughts better and more clearly on my own. I can express myself better and without constraint on my own. She doesn’t really inspire me. I don’t have intriguing ideas with her. I get bogged down in the force that is her perspective. She resolves to stay upbeat which, after time and endless episodes, becomes a grinding and relentless pounding. It’s not working, I want to tell her. Put down the pastry.
While I find myself becoming friendlier, it’s a gutless surrender to my cowardice. I should have let it die long ago. After so much time, we should be better friends by now. So I act like we are. It’s purely my desire in the absence of it. Pure hypocrisy.
I don’t want to reach out and say point blank, we can be friends, but not good friends. Let’s just cut it off and say hello on the street.
I liked it better when I didn’t know her so well.
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