Nice to meet you, where you been?

It's very bizarre.

In the last six months, I've had two people get back in touch with me after years of silence. The first, right around Christmas, after 22 years. And then this past Sunday after ten.

And I don't really understand it.

I mean sure, it's kind of interesting to "catch up" but they both started off as if we could pick up right where we were. As if they didn't ghost me with no explanation, leaving a big hole in my self-worth. And, to be fair, maybe they don't understand just how profoundly their behavior impacted me. I'm sure it's more about me than them. I don't imagine normal people lose friends and think it's because they're supremely un-friendable.

But my life certainly seems to support that as a definition for me. I joke that hubby makes friends and I lose them for us. Because all the dead friendships have certainly pointed their fingers at me as the sole problem.

Sure, you can spout that it "takes two to tango" or whatever, but of the "two", I'm the only one who is ever made to bear the responsibility.

Thus, I pretty much stand by the idea at this point that there is zero point in trying to have friends anymore. I'm...well, I'm not content. That would be a lie to say that. I'm resigned to it. 

I don't mind being someone's friend. I think I do a pretty good job of that, honestly, for as long as it's allowed. But I have given up on any of them actually returning the favor in the unconditional way that I friend. And as such, I am definitely more reserved when it comes to sharing. Because the part that hurts the most when the inevitable occurs is the destruction of trust. The fact that I trusted these people with the parts of me reserved for friends and they were not worthy of it. Worse, they didn't care. They didn't see it as something worth caring about.

So yeah. Both of these former friends are probably disgruntled with my responses to their overtures. If the situation was reversed, I know I would be. But at the same time? I kind of feel "fool me once" needs to be in play. Because as much as I'd like to say I'm older and wiser and wouldn't be as bothered by another collapse, I know that for a lie.

And at this point in my life, I value my heart more than the nebulous idea of a real friend.