I met my friend E a few days after I moved into my college dorm freshman year. You may or may not remember her from this post – how I met their father part 2.
She and I became best friends. Inseparable. It took us about two minutes of conversation to realize that we were somehow magically connected. We didn’t even have to try. It felt like love at first sight, only without the romance and sex. [That’s a half-lie. Again, see how I met their father part 2.]
Maybe this infatuation-like friendship was the reason for my obliviousness to her overly competitive nature. I was naïve for a long time before I realized what was happening.
Not Quite Single White Female.
E and I had lots in common, but many differences as well – inside and out. When we met, she wore pink. I [obviously] wore black. She listened to crap music [crap music to me], I was all about alt-rock.
Within a week, E stopped wearing anything lighter or brighter than an acceptable medium shade of gray. This had to have sliced her wardrobe in half, at least. And she started telling everyone her favorite band was Smashing Pumpkins. Of course, she had never heard of them until I introduced her days before. Please, she didn’t even know who the hell Morrissey was!
One weekend while visiting my sister, I got some new Dr Martens. [Still have that very pair today…] The next time E went home to her parents, she returned with her first pair of Docs. Identical to mine. I decided to put a little red in my hair. It looked amazing and I loved it. Until E did the same.
People started asking us if we were sisters. I always thought that was sweet because we were such great friends – so close that everyone assumed we’d known each other forever. We would play Pictionary and with barely two lines on the paper, the other knew exactly what it was. No one would let us be on the same team. I swear, one curved line and I knew the answer was rabbit. I have no idea how that’s possible. I just knew.
I had never had a friend I felt closer to than her. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see it. She was slowly becoming me. Not in a creepy Single White Female way, but more of an admiration kind of thing. She thought I was cool and she wanted to be like me. Just like me. And before I knew it, she became better at being me than I was.
We’d meet other students, and since E was more outgoing that I have ever been, she’d do most of the talking at first. She would say thanks when they said ‘cool boots’ or complimented her clothes or her hair, of course, with no acknowledgement that her style was mine. She would bring up music she never heard of before she met me and our new friends would think she was the coolest.
She let everyone think everything about her was her own… that she’d always had those clothes or that taste in music. And because I was shyer and quieter, people assumed I was the one who was trying to be like her… yet it was precisely the opposite. And I never said anything.
Pizza and Men.
E used to tell this funny yet gross story about her little brother. Whenever her parents would get a pizza for dinner, her little bro would flip the box open and proceed to lick the pieces he wanted so no one else would want them. Gross, right?
E did the same thing. With men.
Every guy we met [and being together so much, we often met them at the same time], she would stake claim in some way or other before I even had a chance to learn more about him than his name. [Not sure if she ever did this literally by licking, but it’s possible.] It didn’t matter who he was – hot or not, fun or not, nice or not, hell, gay or straight. She claimed every guy for herself. Even if she was not even the tiniest bit interested in him. She just had to win. With me. Every time. With everyone and everything.
I even met guys in class – classes E was not taking – so I met them before her. Oh, but then we’d be at dinner or something and my new friend would walk by, say hi, maybe even sit with us, and she took over from there.
It went like this: I met a guy. He was cool. And… E fucked him. Said guy never came around again… unless she continued to fuck him… which usually didn’t happen because she’d already moved on to the next guy I was even slightly interested in. Not only did she rip away any possibility of me dating these guys, I couldn’t even be friends with them because when E was done with them, they didn’t come back.
Like her brother and the pizza, she ‘licked’ them all before I ever had a shot.
Abandon and Return.
I spent half of my junior year [and half of the summer prior] in London. For almost six months, she wasn’t my wanna-be doppelganger ripping every relationship out from under me. But it ended. Christmas came and I had to go home. I missed my family and all, but I kind of wanted to stay in London for the rest of my life.
Upon returning to school after the holidays, E was especially cold to me. She resented me for leaving her. Yeah. As if it was about her. I had dreamt of moving to London since I was 14 years old! E had made some new friends while I was away. I assume she didn’t fuck them all because they were still around. And now, she didn’t want me around.
I met a girl who lived next door to me that semester. We got along fabulously. She was also friends with E, so one night when E had invited a bunch of girls to her room for girls night, my new friend invited me along. E glared at me from the moment I walked in. But I wasn’t going to leave. She would have to throw me out in front of everyone which would make her look like a total bitch. So… she didn’t throw me out.
The next day, she came to my room, alone, and told me I wasn’t invited and shouldn’t have been there and shouldn’t come back.
E and I lived in the same dorm senior year. I had a nice big single room. It was awesome [and came in especially handy later on when I met JD and some others, and then David]. E had a boyfriend. I mean, she was with one guy and stopped fucking everything that walked past her. [It’s not a judgement – I don’t care how many guys she did or how many guys or girls anyone does… I cared about how she treated me.]
This one guy she was with got her pregnant. She came to me. To tell me all about it. She wanted a friend. She still had her while-I-was-in-London friends, but she came to me. Of course, I let her in. I was either really nice or really stupid. She told me the pregnancy was accidental but they were happy. I’m not so sure. He wanted to get married more than she did, but she said yes anyway.
About a month later, she miscarried. When she told me, she sounded fine. Like she was telling me she caught a cold or something. And she told me that she wondered if she caused it because when her cramping began, it was immediately following sex. With another guy… not her boyfriend. But she sounded curious not sad.
Days later, I ran into her on campus with her boyfriend, and they told me they were still getting married. I could not understand why. Attention? Who the fuck knows. E was already cheating on him. But I said nothing. And I helped her plan a very small wedding.
Next up: Groom’s Brother. And the rest.