The Girl Who Made Me Cry

Two years ago, I had a rude awakening. Her name was "Nancy."

She severed our five-year friendship like it was meaningless shit.

Nancy and I became close friends around seven or eight years ago, when we were in college. I couldn't have asked for a better fit. She was sarcastic, intelligent, modern, and practical. Sort of like Daria.

We both adored Jane Austen. Our guilty pleasures included the same stupid reality shows. Our book lists held the same titles. We could talk for hours about anything and everything.

But Nancy brought out an ugly side of me. She loved to talk about her friends behind their backs. I would often find myself caught up in dissing everyone and everything.

She wasn't very clever at hiding her disdain for my life either. It was clear she hated my boyfriend, couldn't stand my best friend, and thought my blog was stupid. It wasn't uncommon for her to snidely remark, "don't post these on your blog" after I took photos of us together.

One thing I noticed about Nancy is that she never seemed satisfied with anything, especially her own life. There were certain girls she was desperate to impress--these boring, mildly attractive hipsterish girls with etch and sketch personalities.

I don't know why she was drawn to these people. It was weird, especially considering she already had a good thing going. She had interesting friends, she was dating a decent guy, and she had a close relationship with her sisters, something I always envied.

As if those clues weren't enough, I had other people telling me for years how much they couldn't stand Nancy. And I always defended her. I figured they were just jealous of a strong, independent career woman with a mind of her own.

Our five-year friendship ended one summer, when Nancy stopped returning my calls, texts, and e-mails. She eventually blocked me on gmail, facebook, and twitter. It was so completely out of the blue, I felt surely there had been a mistake. After all, it's not like I had done anything wrong. There was no fight. There had been no bad words spoken. I had actually just seen her at her birthday party a week beforehand and we had said goodbye amicably, promising to make plans.

But I was shut out. No warning. No explanation. No apology.

It was bad timing too. I was still mourning the recent loss of my grandmother. I had just been laid off from my job. I already felt worthless.

I e-mailed her, asking for a reason. She owed me that, right?

Nancy wrote back stating she didn't think we had anything in common anymore. That was it.

Five years of friendship. Five years of hanging out. Five years of sharing our personal lives together. Five years.

And after weeks of crying, months of licking my wounds, and now years of acceptance, I finally understand what she meant.

We never did have anything in common.

Because I'm not a bitch.