It's So Hard to Say Goodbye… Until It's Not.

So how was the party? Well, I think Peter Falk/Columbo said it best in The Princess Bride…

Grandpa: Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…

My birthday party? Was absolutely amazing. I actually don’t think anyone even noticed we didn’t have a working fridge, ironically enough. It was annoying with prep, but whatever. Saturday was one of the best nights of my life, and it actually seemed like everyone else was having as much fun as I was. I hope that’s true.

Shannon walked in the door and got busy serving G&T jello shooters for all. Suicide Blond brought a 10-layer chocolate cake so good, Lemmonex said this about it:

Lem: I want to lick that cake off someone’s body. Anyone’s really. Like, I’d lick that cake off Danny DeVito’s body.

Agreed, Lem, agreed. And your Reeses Pieces brownie cookies? Gone within minutes. Much like Kbo‘s and my 3-lbs-of-cheese macaroni casserole.

And perhaps there wasn’t actually any fencing, but there absolutely was some fighting…

Everyone has that friend that you actually don’t really like anymore, but you’ve known them so long, you can’t just END it. When I first moved to DC, I only knew a small handful of people, one of them being my 8th grade boyfriend. (We were friends afterwards, but it’s way funnier to say it that way, no?) When we were growing up, 8GBF was a great guy. (Great kid, I suppose.) He was the funniest person in school, kind of goofy in a cute way, and a total sweetheart. But when we got to high school, something changed. I like to flatter myself and pretend that it was because I broke his heart and left him jaded, but who really knows what happened? His jokes got meaner and meaner, until they just weren’t funny anymore. He became a cruel and selfish person. I may have a (well-documented) sick sense of humor, but there are places even I won’t go… and he lives there. He’s the kind of guy who tells a joke, and everyone goes silent with shame for even being in the same room with him. He’s stood me up on plans more often than not, when I was new to the city and had no one else to call. He truly makes this world a darker place.

But I keep giving him another chance. I keep hoping he’ll grow up a little, get hit with a shock wave of self-realization, perhaps, and change. And over and over again, he’s let me down.

Saturday he showed up (a very fashionable 3 hours late) with his little brother, or Mini-8GBF, and his right-wing man, also known as the only man alive DOUCHIER than 8GBF. (Last year when I met him, we got into a huge fight, and I swore I’d never hang out with 8GBF again. But I also can’t hold a grudge to save my life, and after a few months I’d forget how terrible he made me feel, and agree to grab a beer with him. Which would inevitably end in another vow to never see him again. And so on and so forth.) 8GBF made his way to the back porch, and I believe was being relatively well-behaved, while Mini-8GBF and Douchier-than-8GBF watched the Red Sox game in the living room. They perhaps forgot that there was an actual party going on around them, though, and turned up the volume to the point where the twenty or so people inside could barely hear themselves talk.

Ever the Southern belle, my bff Kbo asked them politely to turn down the volume, pointing out that it was a commercial break. Mini-8GBF and Douchier-than-8GBF obliged, but with snide remarks that ended in them calling my two best girlfriends, who had driven 10 hours to see me on MY birthday, and would drive another 10 home in the morning, “psychos.”

Enter ME. Now imagine that my Carolina girls tell me what just transpired.

I told them to get out of my house, please. They protested. I told them to get the FUCK out of my house, right this second. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, and do not EVER disrespect my girls in MY HOUSE.

B heard me upset, quickly realized what was going on, and asked them, very diplomatically, to leave. They made the grave mistake of replying casually, “Sure, dude, after the game.”

Now, B is a very level-headed man. He is nothing if not a gentleman. But, like most intelligent and reasonable men, you do NOT want to piss him off.

“No,” he said evenly, dangerously. “Get the fuck out of my house, NOW.”

The next thing I knew, every civilized gentleman in the place was helping B physically assist the three offending jerkoffs out the door. And by “helping,” I mean “raining down on them with fists of fury, as they were thrown the fuck out on their asses.” And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t totally hot.

It’s a difficult decision to cut someone completely and permanently out of your life. It’s even harder when you grew up together, when you have history, when they “knew you when”. But the person that I knew and liked is gone. He hasn’t been there for years, if I’m being truthful with myself. I’ve made a lot of fabulous changes lately, and I think this is one more that should be added to that list.

8GBF? There is officially no room for you in my life anymore.

PS: This was about 2 minutes of the entire evening and in no way put a damper on any of it. In fact, it was kind of awesome… after all, what’s a party without a little violence and triumph over evil?

PPS: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who came and made it extra fabulous, or wished me birthday wishes and made it extra fabulous, or is just an extra fabulous human being. You gave 25 a helluva great start…