Excelle

News+Culture >> Browse Articles >> Sex + Relationships

News+Culture >> Browse Articles >> Featured Writers

How Do You Break Up With a Friend?

There are numerous theories, books, songs, and daytime talk shows on how to break-up with a boyfriend. Hell, there’s even been a movie about it. (Did anyone really see How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?) But there aren’t so many books at your corner bookstore entitled Dumping Your Best Friend: 10 Easy Steps to Breaking It off with the Girl You Spent the Last Four Years Totally Intertwined in the Inner-Most Sanctum of Friendship. It just doesn’t fit so well on a book jacket. Unfortunately, the “I just don’t think we should see each other anymore,” doesn’t really work in this situation. The friend dump happens, though. And when it does, what do you do? What do you say? And do you have to give back the amazing cashmere sweater that you borrowed?

Let me back up. I had a best friend for nearly four years. She and I were completely inseparable (as inseparable as two adults could be, anyway.). We thought for sure that we were soul mates. We shared the same values, politics, love for film, music, literature, and celebrity gossip. We weren’t exactly the same size in clothes—she was sublimely a size six, I was a pudgy post-college ten-ish—but we both adored fashion. Men came and went from our lives, but they were never as exciting as our friendship. My friend and I chalked it up to having a bond much deeper than any man or sex-toy.

We lived together in the same city for a time, and people started to only know the two of us together. Me and her. Her and me. We rarely went anywhere without each other. When we weren’t together we were emailing and instant messaging at work. We both had a biting, cynical wit, so being around the two of us was like Laverne and Shirley on crack. What’s not to love?

Life goes on, and eventually we both moved away to different cities. She went to law school, and I took a job in another city. Of course we kept in touch, because we were BFF, Best Friends Forever. In a pre-Friends and Family, Unlimited Calling After 7 p.m. world, we had huge cell phone bills. For the first few weeks, we both complained that there weren’t “cool” ladies in our chosen cities, the guys were so-so, it’s lonely, blah blah blah. All the usual separation anxiety symptoms. But as all living, breathing women do, we moved on. She got really into law school and I got really into my job, my new urban lifestyle, and men. I figured this was the natural progression of our friendship into adult friendship. Apparently she had some different thoughts. I started dating an incredibly handsome, intelligent man from my office. Oh, he was a dreamboat. We couldn’t get enough of each other. I couldn’t wait for him to meet my bestest girlfriend. And guess what? She was coming through town on her way to a mountain holiday. What luck! I set up a drinks date for a group of us, and I knew it would be the greatest fun introducing my best friend and my super, new boyfriend. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

During the course of cocktails, my friend talked directly to me, not taking her eyes off me once and continually putting her hand on my knee. She bought me drinks. She told me how fabulous I looked. Most importantly, she refused to acknowledge the existence of anyone else at the table, namely, my fantastic boyfriend. I chalked it up to two best friends re-connecting after missing each other for several months.

The wise boyfriend, however, saw it for what it was—a pissing contest. The boyfriend and I fought loudly about the situation for hours until I finally realized that what had occurred was highly inappropriate. So, like any mature female, I ignored the situation. I dodged calls from my now (unbeknownst to her) ex-best friend for nearly six months. Luckily, we lived halfway across the country from each other and she couldn’t pull the surprise pop-in. I just didn’t know what to say to her. “This just isn’t working” didn’t seem to fit like it did for a man. “Let’s see other people” sounded ridiculous. And “it’s not you, it’s me” was a total lie. So, I was left with—horror of horrors—the truth. And I still wasn’t even sure what that was exactly.

---