I Don’t Fuck With You

What happens when you’ve already moved on?

I had a friend, Ricci, who I was pretty close with. Years ago, she made a very bad decision and I strongly voiced my disapproval of. She was in a relationship with a married man and bragged about it. Not cool of you have a friend who’s married. She got mad that I told her off and didn’t support her relationship. I questioned what type of friend she was if she thought that shit was cool. That broke up our friendship.

Then Ethan happened.

Ethan, my first son, is a litmus test of my life for those who’ve known me a long time. I hate that I refer to him as such but I tend to divide my life into How Things Were and How They Are Now. A lot has changed for the better. A lot has changed for the worse. Ethan’s short life did define me but it also didn’t stop me from moving forward. Onward and upward.

When his death occurred, I had a lot of people show love and support. I had a lot of people keep their distance. Those who did keep their distance, I don’t communicate with anymore. If they didn’t support me at my worst, they don’t deserve to be around my best.

So that brings us to Ricci.

It wasn’t so much she didn’t say anything and honestly, I didn’t expect her to. It was the fact she stalked me that bothered me. She followed my pages. She found me on Instagram. She, all of a sudden, was interested in what me and M were doing.

Not a word from her. Not a ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ Not a, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ Nothing. But she stalked every. single. page I had. I subsequently blocked her and moved on. I had healing to do, not wondering why an ex-friend took so much joy in my misery.

Four years later, she reappeared.

She sent me a message while I was on a Facebook hiatus. I logged into to see who it was and was a little surprised it was from her. I haven’t read it yet because I need to process some things first. I don’t care who’s in her bed nowadays. I’m more upset that when she could’ve been a good friend and put all that bull behind us, she didn’t and chose another, rather creepy method.

You see, I used to hold grudges and I did for a long while. Nowadays, I simply don’t care. I think age and I just have more important shit to do than to worry about why I’m mad at someone plays a part in it.  The opposite of love isn’t hate but rather, apathy. I should note, however, just because I’m no longer angry at someone, it doesn’t mean everything is cool and copacetic between us. It just means I moved on and so should they.

I still haven’t decided if I’m going to read her message or completely disregard it. The fact she went out of her way to follow my husband on his Instagram account recently tells me she wants some sort of relationship again, even if it is from afar.

We’ll see.


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