Tuesday, April 14, 2015
I don't have many friends. I call it the "no kid" syndrome. I don't have kids. My "friends" have kids. So therefore we are now in separate circles. It's hard to make friends as an adult, especially one without kids. Hell maybe it's been hard for me to make friends my whole life. I don't know. . .
When I was doing portrait photography I met a lady that was my age. I did photos for her family until I quit doing photos. . . I liked her. Super friendly. We got a long great. We didn't necessarily do much socially (she has 2 kids) but we chatted on the phone occasionally, we messaged each other on FB. *shrug* I liked her.
A few months back, I can't remember when, I saw we were no longer FB friends. I wasn't sure what happened. I asked her husband (we are FB friends) and he didn't know. She told me she didn't unfriend me. We became friends again. . . . no big shakes.
Today I go to her page and guess what I see? The Add Friend button. (gosh seeing that button stings) Once again we aren't friends. I say something to her husband. Yup she unfriended me. He doesn't want to get in the middle of it. My feelings are hurt. Beyond hurt. Part of me is numb because I'm sick of passive aggressive FB shit. But the part of me that likes her is hurt cause I thought I actually made a friend. . . as an adult. . . Ha! Joke's on me huh?
The kicker of this is that I had been pondering photographing her daughters. Why? Cause I love them. And I was feeling the itch to take some photos. Spring is here. . . the trees are starting to bloom. . . I was pondering a good photo location and wondering when I had time to do this. . . before I said anything. I'm sure as hell glad I didn't go to my messenger app and shoot her a message. Cause that app doesn't tell you when you are no longer friends.
Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
But what are we? In kindergarten? Talk to me about what I did. Why is that so hard? But I guess I need to grow up and not let the childish shit - like unfriending me - bother me.
Moving on. . . . feelings hurt, but I'm moving on. What else is there to do?