friends, or so Bette Midler said. I do agree, especially now. I gave up for awhile, I don’t know about you. I realise now that it all had to do with my mother. (What doesn’t?) I was going through this ‘I think I should just stop contacting people’ phase. The justification was: I’m bothering them, so many of them are depressed, or busy (with what, tell me what, exactly — now?) . And I couldn’t take the rejection anymore. Then I thought of my history with ‘friends’ — that is, that I’ve never had enough. And that's because I basically hate people. No, I do. I loathe them, generally, even though there are very specific and resounding exceptions. I don’t want all people to die, it’s not that type of misanthropy, it’s just that I would rather they were all a crowd at a bar or a party ,and I could drift through them aimlessly, flirt, and randomly impress— and finally observe them, drunkenly, from a corner. That’s the kind of narcissist I am. However I must be entertained, and I enjoy entertaining back. I know, it’s a tall order. That’s why I enjoy actors. But actors, (don’t tell them) are scary to have as friends. (Are they telling the truth? And how do you break the news that those collagen shots are just getting a bit much?). What I’m trying to say is — if I always had trouble making friends it’s not only because I am a pretty appalling individual, but because I don’t really like people that much, so I deserve what I (don’t) get. But I’ve always wanted to have friends and counted them (I know an alarming habit) as in, how many friends do I have now? When my mother had finally descended into the bleary old deluded drunk that she became, she said ‘You’re so lucky to have so many friends.” And I was so f-in annoyed with her. I mean did she think friends fall from heaven? The sad little collection of comrades I had collected, separating the wheat from the chaff, that is, the Sky Gilbert flatterers looking to get somewhere -- from the people who really liked me — well it was hard work getting that crew together. I tried to explain to my mother once that you have to work your ass off to get friends, and work even harder to keep them. And lo and behold, you do have to actually listen (my worst thing). Listening would have been beyond her. What I figured out today (my therapist helped) is that I learned from my mother that I was a 'star,' and that I shouldn’t ever have to beg people to be my friends. My mother (in case if haven’t mentioned it) was gorgeous (unlike me) and a narcissist (very much like me) -- and a misanthrope too. She detested people, though she was very funny about them. We would go out with ‘friends’ but the real treat was — coming home with Mom and ripping them apart afterwards. She was completely caustic, and evil, and unforgiving. We had so much fun. And of course she and I were always fabulous, and the rest of the world was execrable (unbearable!). Anyway, my mother assumed that most men would fall in love with her or at least want to screw her (and she was quite right) and that she was so smart and fascinating that everyone would covet her friendship (which was not so true). I learned from her that under no circumstances should I ever ever put myself in the position of needing people. Needing people was demeaning, according to her. I should be above that. Well -- as my therapist always reminds me-- my mother ended up a very sad, lonely, old woman. And I don’t want to become her penis-bearing equivalent. I will say this: I take Metamucil because of my mother. I know this is gross to talk about, but she wouldn’t take Metamucil or go to a gym. (She called me once and she said — “In order to get into that gym you have to walk up two flights of stairs — No, I mean I'm sorry, are they kidding?!!?”) And after she died, I don’t know who told me this — probably my sister because she was much more attentive than I to my mother’s medical issues — when she died my mother’s intestines were hard as a rock. Why did I find it necessary to tell you that, as that anecdote is not charming and will certainly not get me any friends? So I can talk about my friends here because none of them (except two very sweet guys I know, hi, G and H!) read this. In fact I will talk about the people who I am really angry at now. Ex friends. First. One guy. I hate him now; I met him in November at an outdoor patio and he went on about how wonderful I was, so I emailed him and we hung out together naked now and then (no sex, but I was willing to try it out) and then he dropped me like a hot potato, and will not return my emails. Well good riddance I say. And then a very old friend who is very dear to me has just stopped communicating as of six months ago. And I used to talk to her every day? Where are you? Are you dead? (I know you’re not.) According to sources on the ground you're happy reading books and drinking wine swaddled in a comforter. I’m friggin' mad though. So anyway, those are the lousy ex-friends. The rest of them I just adore, but so many of them are not seeing me for whatever reason. I refuse to take it personally, after all this is f-in COVD-19 and we’re being told daily that our noses will fall of and our genitals will erupt in sores if we so much as graze an unwashed surface with our un-gloved hands. Can you blame people for staying home? I promise I will never turn into my mother. (I’ve promised this before.) I’m not going to be a gorgeous, arrogant bitch like her, and demand that friends come to me. I’ve just emailed several friends saying actual true things like ‘I miss you’ which my therapist assures me is okay to say to someone (I absolutely don’t want to pressure anybody). Well it’s important to remember that ‘no man is an island’ to quote John Donne. Listen, I have to tell you — I've got a new ‘zoom’ friend— he’ lives in Spain — and he believes that John Donne was Thomas Nashe AND Edmund Spenser. I know, no one cares about such Early English Ephemera except me. And Donne was Shakespeare’s pupil! That’s the part that interests me — because Donne is the only poet besides Shakespeare that ever appealed to me from that era. Well that little tidbit of irrelevant scholarship is not going to get me any friends. But as my therapist says, I shall go with the flow, and be myself. And not be my mother. Wish me luck!
