You see, I decided I needed to walk-the-walk if I was going to talk-the-talk.
I’m in my forties. I’m older. Wiser. Life is short and I only make room in my life for the people who matter. You must surround yourself with people who nurture you, who feed your soul.
Yadda, yadda, yadda.
But Judy (names have been changed to protect the she-devil) was still my “friend” on Facebook. She’s a Queen-Bee-Wanna-Be in our neighborhood. She throws lots of parties. And I’m conveniently left off the guest list every time.
Two years in a row, she called me to apologize for inadvertently leaving me off the invite list, but I was still welcome to come. I came both times. (Pathetic, I know.) Even though I was invited after the fact and just a few days before the event. I wanted to go. She invites just about every woman in our neighborhood and many of my friends were going. Or women I wanted to get to know better. Plus, it’s a party. Who doesn’t like a party?
But then, I did the unthinkable. I dropped out of her book club. Well, not her book club. But she’s a Queen-Bee-Wanna-Be. She thinks of it as hers.
That year I was left off the guest list and that year I never received an after-the-fact-invite.
No biggie. Part of why I dropped the book club was my plate was very, very full already. I was mildly annoyed that I wasn’t invited (yet again) but only mildly annoyed.
I was left off the guest list again this year. No big surprise. But it bothered me more than last year. Why? I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.
Maybe it’s because last January, in our glossy, professionally printed neighborhood newsletter another neighbor gushed a huge thank you on the neighborhood news page to Judy and her husband for opening their gorgeous home not once but twice during the holiday season and they had so much fun and they’re such wonderful hosts and blah, blah, blah.
Wait. So I hadn’t been left off just one guest list but two?
Then, this past October, pictures popped up and gushy thank yous all over Facebook for the amazing time everyone had at her Halloween party.
Nope. Not invited to that one, either.
No one likes to feel left out. Many women that I socialize with attend her parties. She-devil or not, it hurts.
But how to make it hurt less……hmmmmmmmm……
I took her off my Facebook. But not without first scanning all of my other ‘friends’ on Facebook to make sure that I truly only had people who I wanted to stay in touch with. Ok. I admit. There are still about 6 people in my friends list I have no interest in forging deep friendships with but they’re neighbors and they’ve always been kind to me. As far as I know, they’re not throwing huge neighborhood bashes and not inviting me. (Just attending them.)
But She-devil, I mean Judy? She’s phony to me in public. She’s invited every Tina, Deb and Henrietta – new neighbors and old – to her home. And I’m an after-thought, or not even thought of.
Wait. That sounds bitter. Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I am. But I forgive myself. Because I will get over it. I’ll be over it by the time I press ”Publish.” And quite honestly? She’s not someone I really want to get to know any better. I’ve seen enough. And from what I’ve seen? We don’t share many of the same values.
So, I unfriended her. My friends list is pretty trim. Some family. Lots of friends. Some former students. Some neighbors. But chock full of people who care about me. People I wouldn’t hesitate to call/email/text/write on their wall.
Those are the kinds of friends I want on Facebook.
Those of are types of relationships I want to nurture.
Life is short. Too short.
Time to unfriend the she-devils.
*I hestitated/used urban dictionary/consulted my daughter about using this phrase. Nothing else would do. But it sounded so mean that I went to erase it and my daughter grabbed my arm and said, “Put on your big girl panties and say what you mean!” So, it stays.