After 30 Years, It's Over

I met MJ on my third day of high school in 1974 and we became instant friends.  Our friendship lasted nearly 30 years, with me going to college and her going into the military, jobs, my marriage in 1989--everything.  She was what you'd expect in a friend.  We shared so many experiences, especially our love of rock shows, I expected us to be "friends to the end".

That is, until 2003.

To this day, I don't really know what triggered it.  We used to call each other at least twice a month to do things or go places or just to chat, and sometime in 2002, her calls just...stopped.  When I would call her, she would tell me where she and "her friends" had been or where they were going--not caring to invite me. When she mentioned that she'd been to a show featuring someone we both liked, I decided to call her on it.  I mentioned that she knew I was a fan and that I wished she'd have told me about it.  And--she changed the subject.  Okay.  That hurt, but I figured, people grow apart, just ignore it.

In mid-2003, one of my favorite acts was coming to town.  MJ called and said that one of her coworkers could get comp tickets.  So I waited.  And waited.  After not hearing from her for four days (odd for MJ, because you could set your watch by her), I finally called her, concerned.  She acted like she couldn't have cared less.  She told me her coworker "gave them to his friends, but I decided I don't want to go anyway, so it's no big deal."  Well, maybe not to YOU, honey!  I was so angry and confused I didn't know what to do, so I hung up.

And now the cherry on the sundae.  About 6 weeks later MJ calls me, saying that one of HER favorite acts was coming in December and did I want her to get tickets for Bill and me?  Figuring I should just let the past be the past I said sure, but told her not too high in the arena since Bill had just had surgery and couldn't climb stairs very well.  I get the tickets and don't even bother checking them, since I thought I could trust her.  BIG MISTAKE.  We drive the 80 miles to the arena only to find out that the seats are ONE ROW FROM THE VERY BACK, ALL THE WAY UP.  (Her seat was about midway in the lower arena, and some she'd gotten for her friends were on the floor.)  Bill had a horrible time climbing the stairs, and once we got there, up strolls MJ.  I said, "You didn't tell us we'd need an oxygen tank," and "Bring your mountain goat?", but she couldn't have cared less.  The reason she came up, she said, was to tell us that everyone was meeting at the donut shop after the show.  And off she went, oblivious.

Needless to say, we had a miserable time; we heard conversations around us better than the show itself, and the look of shame on my husband's face as he struggled down the stairs was the last straw.  When we got home, I unwrapped her Christmas presents, and what I couldn't return I gave away. Do something to me, that's one thing.  But do something to someone I care about and that's a whole different story.  

MJ, if you ever read this, now you know.