People are always sending me emails.
Dear Kris: You are perfect, and I would like to be more like you. Please advise.
That is an actual email I have received from someone who would like to be perfect.
Like me.
Sigh.
OK, so I thought I would share today . . .
How to be Perfect in Friendships, According to Kris
Here’s Kris (I will be playing the part of Kris), and she is all happy with her friend. They have everything in common! Yay! They understand one another completely! Yay!
This is the awesome part of the friendship, people. If Kris was wise, she would stay right here. But because she is Kris, she will move to the next part of the friendship.
Here’s Kris, slightly obsessed with her friend. They have everything in common, don’t they? Hmmmm. They understand one another completely, don’t they? Hmmmm.
Here’s Kris, testing her friend.
Here’s Kris, all miffed that her friend fails these tests.
Here’s Kris, all miffed that her friend not only fails the tests, but seems oblivious to the fact that testing is being undertaken.
Kris is miffed.
Here’s Kris, all perfect and angelly, forgiving confused friend for offenses friend is not certain have ever occurred. Kris pats friend on shoulder reassuringly. Everything is going to be just fine. Kris is all forgiving.
Here’s Kris, interacting with her friend, and then here is Kris MONUMENTALLY ANNOYED that her friend has hurt her feelings. Her friend has clearly intentionally hurt her feelings and Kris is all, “What the fuck?”
Kris is MONUMENTALLY ANNOYED.
Here’s Kris not standing for this shit.
Here’s Kris saying, “Hey! You have hurt my feelings and you had better apologize!”
Here’s the friend saying, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Kris is pretty sure her friend is a big fat fucking liar, and so she points that shit out.
Here’s the friend saying, “I am sorry you got your feelings hurt, but I didn’t do anything to hurt you.”
Here’s Kris all homicidal and thinking that this is like the worst apology in the history of apologies.
Here’s the friend saying, “You are confusing me. I am scared.”
Here’s Kris realizing that said friend did not in fact intend to hurt her feelings.
Here’s Kris feeling tiny and weak and insanely stupid.
But only for an instant.
BECAUSE NOW THAT SHE HAS BEEN MADE TO FEEL STUPID (A feeling brought on through absolutely no fault of her friend’s), THERE IS NO WAY THIS RELATIONSHIP CAN CONTINUE UNLESS THE FRIEND AGREES TO BE CRUSHED BENEATH HER FEET. SO HERE IS KRIS BACK IN HER FRIEND’S FACE, MIXING IT UP AND CAUSING TROUBLE AND MAKING SURE THAT THIS RELATIONSHIP GOES DOWN IN FLAMES FOR A REASON.
Kris’ inner dialogue goes something like this . . .
OK, well my friend didn’t actually do anything wrong, but I feel all shitty and stupid, and so clearly that is my friend’s fault, because there is no way I would be making myself feel this way, because that would just be insane. So yes, all of this ickiness is definitely my friend’s fault, and I was always suspicious of this friend anyway because remember that one time when my friend did not know what I was thinking? That was really fucking annoying and clearly a sign that my friend was eventually going to harm me, even though, if I step back and look at this situation objectively, my friend has thus far done nothing wrong.
Here’s Kris saying . . . Fuck looking at things objectively.
And so then here is Kris poking and bothering and scab-picking at the wounds she has caused in this friendship.
Does it hurt if I do this? Yes.
Does it hurt if I do this? Yes.
What about now? Yes.
What about this? Yes.
What about now? Yes.
Here’s Kris deciding that this friend had better do something to fix this situation pretty damn fast. Stupid trouble-causing friend.
Here’s Kris putting a confused and frightened friend on notice . . . FIX THIS!
Here’s Kris waiting with tappity fingers of impatience.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Here’s the friend cowering in the corner and hoping that this storm passes quickly.
Here’s Kris waiting.
Here’s Kris fuming.
Here’s Kris waiting.
Here’s Kris unable to wait any more.
Here’s Kris announcing that the friend has failed to fix the friendship.
Here’s Kris announcing that she does not want to talk about it anymore.
Here’s Kris all dramatic, announcing that she is MOVING ON, because she will not be treated this way.
Here’s the friend, staring at Kris blankly.
Here’s Kris realizing the friend is still confused.
Here’s Kris realizing she has been an idiot.
Sigh.
Here’s Kris remembering other failed friendships.
Here’s Kris seeing a pattern.
Here’s Kris all sad.
Here’s Kris hoping her friend will call her.
Sigh.
And that, people?
Is how to be perfect in friendships, according to Kris.
You’re welcome.
Here’s Rebecca being just like Kris.
Can we be friends and be mad at each other all the time for failing to read each others minds and other nonsensical nonsense?
I think it would be a perfect friendship.
Sigh.
Perfection is difficult, don’t you find?
Sigh.
So difficult.
But I soldier on, no matter how difficult, for the good of the people.
I am all selfless like that.
Yes.
It is lonely here at the pinnacle.
Lonely, but perfect.
Damn it.
Dear Kris,
I think that person who wrote you the “you are perfect” email has way more issues than you do. Who the hell writes emails like that?
And also.
Dear Kris,
Life is hard. Friendships are hard. Trusting anyone with your heart is hard, in relationships platonic or romantic. The fact that you wrote this post means you are looking at your behavior objectively. First step toward change, my friend.
Perhaps you should preemptively warn your new friends when the friendships are still all new and glow-y, so that they will be able to talk you down off your crazy ledge.
Love to you, you non-perfect, perfectly wonderful person.
Hmmm . . . I will think about what you have said.
And I will be back to comment.
Right now?
Off to the girls’ school for a meeting.
I will be back to have all of the last words.
I am perfect that way.
Ummm . . . that email may or may not have been received within the midst of a heated discussion of how I was right and someone else was all fucking wrong.
And there may or may not have been an undercurrent of raging sarcasm.
Ahem.
It is unfortunate that the tone is sometimes lost when one commits words to paper.
So unfortunate.
Ahem.
Oh, and also?
I do tell new friends that I am all crazy and that they will need to talk me down off of the crazy ledge.
Mostly, they do not believe me.
Snort!
Yep. We have absolutely the same DNA. Same exceptionally wide synapses. Same level of uber-perfection. No wonder we are all blissful.
Yes . . . blissful.
I would not be at all surprised to find out that you and I are related.
Not at all surprised, funny man.
Here is Karla wondering how she can be perfect like Kris. Kris is the wind beneath Karla’s wings, she completes Karla.
Here is Karla getting a restraining order from Kris. *sob*
Snort!
Just so we are clear . . .I would be the one getting the restraining order to keep YOU away from ME, correct?
Because the other way round?
Not even conceivable.
I am awesome.
Even wayyyyyyy up close.
Snort!
Here’s Kris swallowing a Xanax given to her by her brand new mentor. Hahahaha…I love the turmoil that is you!
Xanax?
What is this Xanax of which you speak?
I am all turmoilly.
Sigh.
I feel like I learned so much today. so excited I know how to be perfect now.
you need the kind of friend who, when your crazy comes out, says “fuck off, crazy!” and takes you to get hammered.
I DO need that sort of friend.
This particular friend?
Way too nice to say those words and mean them.
I can tell when people tell me to fuck off but they don’t really mean it.
And then the words are just empty.
Snort!
Nothing but love for you. Perfect or not perfect, nothing but love.
Thanks, you.
I am all imperfect.
I am pretty sure I have mentioned that a few times.
Sigh.
NObody is perfect. Friendships? Way hard. Your way of describing the realization of how we act in friendships? Way Funny.
Bottom Line:
Real-Life: Hard.
Your-blog-life-that-makes-real-life-funny: Well I just said it, funny.
(By the way, I think I am comment 11, I am very exuberant about this newly aquired talent of fast commenting.)
I am so happy you found the funny.
It is funny.
Annoying, but way fucking funny.
And you are all awesome with your commenting skills!
I love you, but I really would like to stop seeing similarities between me and you when it comes to crazy posts like these.
I am crying due to much laughter only.
I swear…
People?
THIS IS NOT A CRAZY POST!
Snort!
You know, it never ceases to amaze me when people expect us bloggers to be in person just as we are on our blogs.
Our blogs. Where we control everything and it happens on our turf, our time, our schedule, our own little cyber-fiefdom.
Where we manipulate reality to show only what we want shown, create a self through our words that reveals only what we want to be seen.
People? Even when we are raw, when we reveal?
We are writing about it. We are crafting it.
This is not real life people, it’s art.
And “art” is short for artifice or artifact.
These are manufactured moments; real, beautiful, at their best cathartic, transcendent. But? Created.
The who of who we are in the world is so much larger, more complicated and… messier than who we are on our blogs.
I love Kris, I think she is perfect ON HER BLOG.
In real life? I expect her to be a hot mess.
Just like me.
(Love you, babe)
Your comment is pretty much perfection.
Seriously perfect.
In real life?
I am indeed a hot mess.
Seriously hot mess.
Just like you.
Love you, babe
My husband is always reading my blog saying things like—
That didn’t really take two hours.
Or.
The hole in the wall isn’t the size of your head.
Or.
The baby doesn’t look anything like George Costanza.
And I say— Do you want me to write the truth? Or do you want me to write a good story??
And Kris— I find maintaining a distance keeps me from making any friendship mistakes. I am forever the victim of the mean girls in junior high school. And I’m working on it.
There is truth and there is truth . . . as I say on my About Page.
My stories are all true.
My version and my truth.
I always try to entertain and tell a story with my truth.
So everything is true, but heightened and crafted to allow the reader to share this experience with me.
An ugly baby is not funny.
A baby that looks like George Costanza is funny.
Both true stories of an unattractive child.
One of them I want to read.
Exactly.
My child has looked like George Costanza, Ed O’Neill, Justin Beiber and Audrey Hepburn.
In that order.
http://www.mommyshorts.com/separated-at-birth/
The George Costanza one?
Dying.
Dying.
Stop getting into my mind (or my blog, which may or may not be the same thing).
I just posted about a long time friendship of my husbands that recently went awry. It might be mended, it might not. But I feel totally at fault, even though the sane part of me knows I did nothing wrong.
SO…friendships are SO FUCKING HARD. That’s why I prefer to just have one or two close friends who totally get me and know when I’m being my crazy self and just tell me to knock it the fuck off. My best friend is awesome at that. Probably why she’s my best friend.
And damn, Jessica H. had a really, really, really good comment. Mine seems like gibberish compared to that!
Jessica H. is all wise up there.
Friendships are hard.
And I hate apologizing.
But I am tired of losing people.
So I am going to own this fuck-up.
And try to move on.
Love you, babe.
Apparently my oh-so-wise commenting has made me look all kinds of awesome today! *bow, wave to the crowd*
Kris, and Kmama, and all the other amazing women out there, I think sometimes we curl ourselves up into such tight little balls to protect ourselves, but we end up lashing out at the people who love us enough to want to get at the softness inside.
I really believe that we forget to be kind to ourselves, to cut ourselves some slack. You are where you are because of where you’ve been. Being vulnerable is something that doesn’t come naturally to some people. It’s terrifying at times.
So please, please, remember to cut yourself some slack. We’re all still learning, after all.
Oprah?
Is that you, Oprah?
Swoon!
Plus also?
Jessica?
You are awesome.
From you, my dear, that compliment makes ME swoon.
I hope it didn’t sound preachy. I’ve just learned in my own life that being kind to yourself is so important. And though I’m not yet a mother, I think mothers tend to neglect themselves most of all.
*hugs*
Ummm . . . you don’t have any children?
That explains everything.
I was all geniusy before I had children.
Children make you stupid.
It’s true.
Now, that explains why you never* call… Luckily, I’m oblivious to the fact that testing is being undertaken! Love you anyway… and everyway… I’m just loyal, oblivious, and lap-doggy like that! xoxo :)
*okay… rarely, but I do appreciate how busy you are online and all! Snort!
P.S. Call me!
No, REALLY!
Double Snort!
You are a big old smart-ass, and I love you.
Our friendship has never been tricky, lovely one.
Some friendships are easier than others.
Sigh.
What kind of “&*#@%&” friend are you???!!! You’re calling me BIG??? OLD??? SMART… well okay, one out of three’s not so BAD with YOU -ASS, I meant… YOU BAD ASS! On the ledge or not… Can’t wait for you to come back down and get hammered on our front porch!! Love back at you!
You?
Are ridiculous.
I could so use a beer and some laughing at the moment.
Love you.
So I bought a cute thing for a friend to hang on her wall…
“A good friend will bail you out of jail but a best friend will be sitting next to you saying “Damn…that was fun”
I know that that friend would not even bail me out of jail anymore.
I think perhaps you and I were separated at birth.
I love the perfectly imperfect you.
You?
Are just as imperfectly perfect as I am.
I see you, babe.
You are me.
Love that.
Friendship takes more effort than marriage. Spouses have to take an oath (or something) about sticking around despite rampant assholiness on the part of the spouse of the other part. So there’s that whole promise thing to deal with in a marriage. Friends? No vows in front of the world. Free to bail at the drop of … anything. So if they’re good, their love is worth working for. And the really good ones know that, too, and work as hard at keeping you as you do at keeping them.
What I’ve seen tells me that you’re one who will fight for that love. Call me.
Yes.
This is a friendship I value.
I was in the midst of taking it apart when I realized I was the only one taking it apart.
So I am stopping.
And apologizing.
And fighting to keep this friendship.
Because I would like to be a grown-up.
Someday.
Grown-up is not all it’s advertised to be. You don’t need to be a grown-up to be a friend – even a best friend. You just need to care and to love and to be willing to work and to be wrong at times.
Love.
You sound a lot like my friend.
My friend is all kinds of calm.
I am the only one freaking out.
I have issues.
That occasionally rise to the surface of my life and fuck things up.
Silly you! Issues? With MY life? I don’t just have issues, I have a fucking lifetime subscription! But yet, I AM calm. At my age, I’ve finally learned that panic and aggravation and all that other negative crap are pointless. They don’t make time go any faster, they don’t make anybody feel any better, they don’t go grocery shopping – nada. So, like spoiled kids, I try not to indulge them.
And in case you were wondering, you ARE doing the right thing, which is trying. And we love you – I do, anyway – for that.
Yes, well . . . I am glad that you are calm.
I am mostly calm.
And then I am sometimes triggered and swept away in a sea of childhood bullshit that rages below my surface.
It is not a matter of indulging. It is a matter of being taken over.
And so I am not always calm.
I do not think I will ever be always calm.
But thank you for your kind words.
Seriously, who is this self aware? You make me wish I was a teenager, blissfully unaware of the realities and complications of friendships. When one could scream, insult, be hurt, etc. in a note and then write another one the next day and have everything work out. Thanks for sharing.
Ummm . . .
I am this self-aware.
And it is not always a gift.