Friends and lack thereof…

The night before last, one of my best friends for the last twelve years–E, who was also supposed to be my bridesmaid–called me and said she and M–close friend for twenty five years now–wanted to see me, to talk.

I met them at a coffee shop, where for the next hour or more they were accusing me of destroying our friendship.

M had gone on vacation with K–friend for seven years now, who’d only seen M a handful of times before deciding to go on vacation with her–who’d proceeded to, always with the best of intentions, twist my words to her so that I seemed to have been doing nothing but badmouth M and E for years.

I am–more or less–a twisted, sick person, who had been making stories up and trying to vilify their friendship, make it seem vulgar.

I was shocked and disappointed. Seriously. K joined us, looked me in the eye, and kept lying, to the point of saying that I’d asked her to be my Maid of Honour first, but she couldn’t, and so she suggested I go with E or M.

She said I was calling them retarded, work-wise. (When one is a lawyer, the other a civil engineer, and I a lowly sales/exports employee, who only managed to get a job at a company partly owned by my dad)

And they believed her.

The thing is, one of the things she said I’d told her, I really had. It was something I distinctly remember E telling me M had told her. Now they’re saying that never happened, and I believe them (because, hey, that’s what friends do), but when my sis suggested it was maybe a misunderstanding, E almost had a heart attack. She puffed out, became all red and blotchy and started shrieking that she’d never said anything of the sort.

I’m sad. Those three had been my only close RL friends in years.

I’m sadder, because I found out K had told E’s sister a couple of months ago that she wanted to hang with them because she couldn’t believe what I’d been saying about them. She also said she was planning on cutting me off, because she doesn’t approve of me marrying My Love. These two little things show me this whole thing has been planned. By someone I put into my own house again and again.

Now, thinking of this, and how in this year I’ve lost so many people I considered friends, I’m wondering if I’m a total bitch who drives people away, or a complete idiot who can’t judge characters.

Neither choice is very appealing.

I think I wanna crawl somewhere and not come out again.