Little Bill

This weekend has left me in a state of disquiet. I’m not sure how better to put it. I had a now-former friend visit for the weekend. I’ll admit to some expectations. I’m not quite sure what they were, but I will say that even my lowest expectation — the manner in which you treat someone you hold dear and close to you — was left shattered.

Simply put, I was lied to by someone I never expected to lie to me. My friend could argue till she’s blue in the face that she had no idea she was offending me and hurting my feelings, but I know her better than that. She is a person who places a great deal of weight in appropriate and proper behavior and knows that what she did was uncool. To say otherwise or to claim ignorance on the matter would be a blatant lie from this particular person. A lie told, incidentally, to my face. In doing so, she betrayed a few other lies to me, some of which may have been designed to spare my feelings; but they were lies nonetheless.

I don’t care if my feelings get hurt. I can get over that. I do care when I call someone on something so obviously rude (details are unimportant for this entry) and I’m lied to by the person saying they had no idea it would be interpreted as such. It not only insults me, but it insults my intelligence, the liar’s intelligence, and it insults the trust I hold in my friends.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means a perfect person and I make my share of mistakes. But never would I tell an outright lie to someone I counted among those I cared so deeply about.

I’m left questioning my judgment in naming a friend as such. And that, more than anything else in recent memory, makes me feel very lonely.