Sputterpub's Blog

Charlie and Dana ran into each other in the market on Saturday. They’ve been acquainted for decades and they always have things to say, so they conversed. That’s fine, of course. What bothers me is what each told me afterward.

Dana reported in first. She’s my best friend since college, and she’s the only person with whom I still enjoy regular interaction by telephone. Landline even. We talk every Saturday morning for about an hour, like it’s a meeting. And about every other day as events occur that warrant discussion. She called Sunday partly to reschedule our tentative dinner plan, but also to report that she saw my baby brother.

Charlie doesn’t like it when I refer to him that way in public, but I was already eight when he entered the family, and I babysat him. I remember how bright he was. I recollect his toddlerhood better than my kids’. He was adorable. And had so much potential.

Dana told me how pleased she was to encounter him. She said she saw him before he noticed her, and lounged against the deli counter until he looked her way. They hi’d and how-are-you’d and then had a few words about the office. Charlie has worked with me for ten years and will assume the reins when I retire in a few months. Maybe. I’m determined to retire, or at least retreat to one day a week, but neither Charlie nor I are sure he’ll be able to drive the place. Dana told me that Charlie began at least two statements with “You know I love Zell to pieces, but…”

Ouch. That hurt. No one ever starts a compliment with the phrase “I love her to pieces, but…”

I didn’t complain about Charlie’s words to Dana. I put them in the hopper and let them bounce around.

Charlie gave me his version after I got to the office on Monday. I had no particular intention to bring up the subject, but he piped up with a cheerful “Hey! Did Dana tell you we saw each other on Saturday? She looked good. How much weight has she lost?”

“Like twenty pounds. She attributes it to giving up booze, but I think there’s more to it.”

“We chatted for a few minutes. She’s a riot. She kept saying, ‘Zell doesn’t have to hear this, but…”

My heart thudded a little. Clenched a bit. I wasn’t pleased but I didn’t want to talk about it then. I parked my feelings inside where they could percolate.

Two days later I spoke to Charlie about it. He didn’t get me. He referred to an event a year ago, when I objected to a Charlie-and-Dana dinner date, and told me he understood – clearly she was my friend and I wasn’t sharing her. That isn’t it! My initial gripe about their dinner was that they didn’t include me – the occasion was Dana’s attempt to thank Charlie for hooking up cable in her new condo, and in fact I’d helped just as much as he and should have been a third at that table.

But my sincere objection to the dinner had been about little secrets. He told me afterward that they agreed that what they discussed at that table would stay between them.

Uh uh. No way. I refuse to enter that murkiness. I love them both, and I will NOT be part of a group where each pair has secrets from a third member. It’s just too difficult to keep it straight. Too easy to hurt feelings. I’d rather be alone. I told them both then, that if they wanted to create that sort of dynamic, they could do it without me.

Charlie and I rehashed that memory as we processed this new event. “I don’t care that you met and talked,” I reiterated. “What struck me is that you each made a point of reporting to me, and your report included words the other said that are hurtful. What the fuck?”

“What words?”

“C’mon, Charlie. You quoted Dana as saying (a couple of times!), ‘Zell doesn’t have to hear this but…’ or ‘This can be between you and I’ (typically ungrammatical Dana). Those phrases are always a clear lead-in to a small secret.”

“Jeez, Zell. You’re what we have in common. I don’t remember either of us saying anything nasty about you.”

“And when Dana narrated the episode to me, she let me know that you said “I love her to pieces, but…”

Then Charlie got wet-eyed. He told me he heard me. He apologized sincerely. He repeated that he heard me, but… (which is a lead-in to defensiveness. Sigh). He mentioned that all he said to Dana, really, regarding me, was something about how since they both heard me “talking smack” about others, didn’t I realize that of course they knew that, when with others, I was talking smack about them?

“Oh come on,” I blurted. “First off, I don’t talk ‘smack.’ As far as I’m concerned, that means bad-mouthing people. Sure I express some negative judgments, but guess what? They’re what people find interesting. Do you realize how smarmy it seems, to always be finding the positive thing to say? It’s as boring as the kindergarten idea of heaven. Yeesh (I was starting to roll by then) – don’t you hear yourself criticizing Mom? Angie (his ex-wife)? Sue? Do I bad-mouth Sue?”

Sue is our office assistant. She’s not bright and not confident, so she makes plenty of mistakes. Charlie is constantly critical of her but doesn’t alter his management style to accommodate her weaknesses.

“Well no. I guess you don’t.”

“The fact is, you and Dana talk as much or more ‘smack’ as I do. You’re just not as good at it! I deliver it with dramatic emphasis and impressive vocabulary. You remember my performance better than your own. And you have nothing better to do when you’re together than talk about me. You two need to get lives of your own.”

Which was true. And the most hurtful observation I could make (not that I meant to hurt, but that didn’t matter, because Charlie had immersed himself in his customary guilty feeling, and he was listening to something inside him).

I wanted to talk to Dana about the subject in person, but we again postponed dinner, and I thought it would be useless to wait any longer. That would be making an alp out of a mesa. I used the telephone yesterday.

She yelled at first. We’re both passionate people, but there have been several times Dana has lit into me, for “thinking only of myself” or for “not understanding the unwritten rules about who I can fuck” or for simply being too serious, while I (known in my family for my outbursts) have always been patient with Dana. I viewed her as more vulnerable than I when we first met (child of nasty divorce and addictive parents, into feeling more than thinking, wearing her liberal heart on her sleeve) and took on something of a caring role, and my position didn’t change when she was unable to find a job after college, or a husband after lovers. We were 35 when I had an emergency hysterectomy and she developed Type I diabetes; let’s face it, my crisis was acute, but she got the chronic condition that requires everyday diligence.

She raised her voice, but I raised mine more. She flailed around defensively, couldn’t remember saying “Zell doesn’t have to hear this,” and started to blame Charlie for talking, but I rolled over her and then thrust through. I wasn’t angry. I was hurt and confused. Why had my two best humans made a point of reporting hurtful words, from a beloved, to me?

She started to hear me. She apologized. She said neither of them meant me harm. She floated the old “Okay. From now on my lips are sealed. I’ll never talk about you to Charlie again.” But that’s silly. I’m starting to wonder if any two people can talk a disagreement without sarcasm or hyperbole.

As far as I’m concerned, they still did it. It felt like they were trying to take me down a peg. Which has of course been attempted before.

Dunderheads. Dipshits. They don’t get it. They don’t notice that my critical comments are about them and only them. I complain about Charlie’s passivity to Dana and I bemoan Dana’s indolence to Charlie. Because they’re my favorite people. I love them so much that they can disappoint me.

They don’t get it. Like the fat bald self-absorbed guy I once perused on OKCupid, who berated women on the site for characterizing themselves as “post-sexual.” “Hello, women,” he wrote. “The name of the website has the word ‘cupid’ in it. Don’t you understand that means eros? Sex?” Wow, I remember thinking. There’s a senseless man. The dude clearly didn’t see that claiming I’m post-sexual is the kindest way to say no to him.

Recently I complained to Dana about Charlie by saying that he’s stuck. He won’t make a decision. He doesn’t dare start a change. He won’t expand into new areas of the job, because he’s “not comfortable” with those tasks (when did being comfortable become an occupational goal?). He goes with what is familiar and comfortable every day, and those days add up to weeks, months, years. His life is passing and his position is that of spectator.

“Gee,” Dana said into the phone then. “That kinda sounds like me.” I didn’t say anything. “I’ve been stuck for a long time, I know, but it feels like I’ve been where I need to be, and I think I’ll be coming out of it soon.” I changed the subject. I hope she heard herself.

Then again, lately Dana’s all about what “works” for her. “I don’t learn the way my IT guy is teaching,” she’ll say. Or “I’m not comfortable in a large gym; I’ll start working out when I find the ideal situation.” Or “I know me, and texting and emailing and social media won’t work. I’m a phone type of gal.”

I can’t stand it! They’re both stuck. They’re both very good at watching professional athletes, but neither plays a sport. I’m not free to discuss my ideas or creations with them. I love them both. But I don’t want to spend time with them.

The fact is, and I’ve been offered the choice all my life, I keep selecting loneliness over boredom.

There isn’t enough
room in your comfort zone for
a victory dance