It has come to my attention in the past few weeks that I am a shitty-ass friend. This probably should have occurred to me sooner but I am, actually, that self absorbed. I’ve been told on more than one occasion, for more than this reason, that ‘they’ name streets after me: “one way.”
I’m speaking specifically about my efforts, or lack thereof, with my childless friends. I can’t remember when this daming observation came to me. It’s not that anyone called me and said, “Um, hey there. You’re a shitty-ass friend.” At any rate, I feel compelled to pen a list of ‘sorry’s’ for my childless, yet loyal friends, who have stuck by me even after I started reproducing.
1. I’m sorry I don’t call first. I’m sorry I don’t text first. I have no valid excuse. I’m still gonna try though; Generally, when I think of you, it’s in the middle of changing a diaper. No, wait. That’s not right. It’s in the middle of feeding a toddler. I think to myself, ‘OMG, I need to call them and chat… No! Don’t let the dog eat the peanut butter off your fing- NO! Don’t pet him no – hair in your mouth!!?? Really!!??’ Of course this leads to cleaning up the baby, putting her down for a nap, putting a load of laundry in and… you see how this is going. And I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m sorry.
2. I love you guys and I actually live vicariously through you. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. But just a skosch. Please don’t stop posting pictures on Facebook of your conquests and exploits. There is a part of me that is reveling in the fact that you are still able to get away with the shit that you do.
3. I’m sorry my house smells funny. Thank you for still coming to my parties. Yes, I am aware it smells like that. (Now you understand why it is easier for me to be with my flock whose homes also reek of child rearing, no?) The fact that you still come to my house reminds me that the smell of vomit, vodka and regret is still worse than diapers, dog hair and despair.
4. I’m sorry I don’t always answer your texts. Every unsolicited text message from you makes me smile. Really. The fact that you thought enough of me to send me that message, even though I’m a self absorbed asshole with kids, makes me want to dry hump your leg. It allows me to believe that someone (besides my kids) knows I exist. I consider it a bonus that your’e not texting me to come wipe your ass and flush the toilet because the noise scares you.
5. I’m sorry I say no so often when you invite me to your various events. Thank you for continuing to invite me even though ninety-three percent of the time I have to say no. I know that my withdrawn behavior probably makes me suspect for a suicide watch list. Either that or you think I joined a cult. Truth is, my ‘out of the house dollars’ are limited. It’s not that you’re not worth it, it’s just that if it comes down to going to your party vs grocery shopping alone, I’m grocery shopping alone. Go ahead, shed a tear for me.
6. Finally, and most importantly, sorry about my feed full of posts about my kids. I do try to keep my picture posting and video showing to a dull roar but you always indulge me. Thank you for giving a shit about my kids. I know you like them by the way, no one is that good of an actor.
So sorry for my failings as a friend, but also: thank you. Thank you childless friends for being there. Thank you for sticking by me, even when I leave you with the impression that I don’t have the time to give you any friend attention. From here on out, it will be different. I promise, the next time I’m thinking about you I will call. The instant I see your beautiful face in my mind’s eye, I will dial your number. Even if it’s while I’m making eye contact with a pooping toddler, I will reach out and call you. Wait, is that still okay? We’re still friends, right?
Maura McCormick