Mantra has been focused on a trending topic on M3. While she may not be reading each week’s SEP, she is in tune with the moving topics and what the average Internet surfer is using to find out what M3 has to offer…specifically, M3’s most popular post: And then there were none.
One of the hardest parts of friendship is not just knowing when it is over but being able to call it quits without a boat load of drama, hurt feelings and regrets.
Knowing it is over is as clear as scoring on the ten point scale. You and Quaint have run into that brick wall where one or both of you is below a five and some event has shattered the relationship. The top deal breakers are always:
While occasionally compassion is the problem, it is only when Quaint is the one who hurt the feelings. True friendship can normally survive the choosing of sides by merely agreeing to disagree. But…
When it comes to fundamentals, this no longer applies. Failing to see eye-to-eye on such key issues as influence of religious beliefs and variance in fidelity definitions are generally not reparable, as they are pervasive beliefs which govern our interpersonal relationships and the prevalence we give honesty.
Many of the rocky starts to friendship are ironed out over time. As you learn the boundaries of where feelings get hurt, both yours and Quaint’s, there are fewer calls for forgiveness. These lessons are not singular to any one friendship. Many of them are applicable to all friends. Wisdom truly comes with age.
Or does it?
Mantra has identified a friend whose arrested development hinders all relationships. Everyone has met someone like this.
This person believes their own press. They perpetuate the sanitized version of everything in their past. Every episode stars their brilliance, ability, talent or overall superiority to every other person who has ever drawn a breath.
Everything they have ever owned was the first, best, limited edition or one of a kind made solely with them in mind, named after them and immortalized by the manufacturer as the corporate crowning achievement in all media ever after.
These people have the ability to see the fault in everyone except themselves…even you. Yes, this Quaint is the proverbial black pot.
The endless stream of complaints is about juvenile handling of everything, the eternal unfairness of life and how Eeyore’s cloud was really borrowed from them. It is a lament to their status as the victim.
Never once, since the day they were born, has anything ever been their fault. From all personally delivered accounts, they have never been wrong.
Mantra has a very simple message for these people. The poem is simply named Grow Up. She makes her point in a bit of narrative poetry.
Once upon a time gone by
We were joined at the hip.
Every social function,
Gathering or vacation trip.
As the days added up,
The light began to shine.
I caught the little lies,
Started to hear you whine
About things you could change
Or fix or simply let go.
I asked you if you were stoned
Or just stupid. You said, “No.”
I went home to think and
Had to just scratch my head.
So many lies and complaints.
DOA. The trust was dead.
The answer was simple.
The relationship was over.
So many other friends to enjoy,
Many more to discover.
Paths diverged, and once again
The sun shone bright and clear,
Until in the square we met.
An intercept course did you steer.
Diversion would not happen.
So, I was cordial at least.
Not publicly necessary for me
To point out the mark of the beast.
Once again our paths crossed,
But I was far less polite.
You shoved an innocent child
Before me to catch my sight.
If you read faces half as well
As you read telephone book ads,
Maybe, you would have noticed,
My expression was not glad.
Disgusted, angry, frustrated-
Good descriptors, indeed.
Body language screaming “Away!”
Yet, you paid it no heed.
Between us a comfortable silence grew.
And not the pregnant kind either.
The distance which grows the heart forgetful.
Think of you? Why would I bother?
Rather than leave me peacefully
To my own devices and plans,
You insist on sticking your fingers
In the pot, stirring to beat the band.
Finally, I’ve had enough, and
Call you out for your impudence.
I’m validated by the watching crowd
Who’s heard your rehearsed innocence.
Its tinny cacophony grates the ears
Like nails on a chalkboard.
Then, comes the clinched moan
Of falling on your paper martyr’s sword.
Be gone before the curtain falls,
Puppet on the charade stage.
All see through the scenes and lines
Unfit for someone of your age.
When was the last time you befriended this person? Have you ever actively ended a friendship? Are you content just to stop making contact and let them fade away from simple neglect?
(c) Red Dwyer 2012
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