three strikes

I feel a great deal of disdain for people who let me down. Lie to me. Go behind my back and try to start trouble for me. It’s happened on occasion. Not often. But when it has happened, depending upon my perceived severity of the situation, sometimes, I’ve cut the cord.

Cutting people out of your life. It isn’t easy to do. And, I still don’t know if it’s the right thing to do. But there are some transgressions that are so hurtful that I just know that I don’t want that person in my life anymore. Period.

Once, a long time ago, a very nasty rumor was started about me. A rumor that quickly spiraled out of control in our too-small town and reached my then-boyfriend before it reached me. Thankfully, we had an honest and trusting relationship. He knew that I would never do anything like I was purported to have done, and we instead puzzled at great length about the rumor and where it started.

We wrongly concluded that another party (also implicated in the rumor) had made it up and started spreading it around. The resulting confrontation would have been comical if it wasn’t so sad- my boyfriend was my height, maybe shorter, and a pacifist; the other guy, a dead ringer for an oversized Ted Nugent and a wacked-out martial arts enthusiast, nunchucks included.

My guy confronted the other guy, who was so honestly bewildered and upset; we couldn’t help but believe that he’d had no part in the fabrication. He was married and the story, which had reached his wife, brought up some old, hurt feelings about a real infidelity in the past. It was an unfortunate situation for everyone involved.

An unfortunate situation that became even more preposterous when we discovered the culprit. The person who started the rumor was none other than a friend. A very, very close friend of mine. Who had no reason to believe that I had done anything of the sort and in fact, made it up out of thin air just to cause trouble for me. I stopped speaking to her immediately after one final confrontation.

My parents, friendly folk, liked her a lot and often asked about her. Even years later, my dad would bring up her name. I made up a story. Because the rumor was so ugly, it was just too embarrassing to tell my father. Instead, I told him that we had just fallen out of touch. It was easier, but it left that window open for him to ask about the “friend” from time to time, and to lecture me again and again over the years about just how important my old friends are, throughout my life.

I know that. And I don’t like the idea of cutting someone out of my life. It’s hard to do. But as difficult as it was, I thought- and I still believe- that it was the right choice for me.

But sometimes, I still question my actions. I remember the fun I had with my old friend. The many experiences, confidences and good times we shared. I know she’s fallen on hard times since our friendship ended. Would she have kept her head above water if we still spoke on the phone every day? If I still were offering her my unconditional love and support? I don’t know. And it makes me feel sad. Like a bad person, who is uncaring or judgmental. And then I remember the rumor, and all of the trouble it started. Why I had to let my friend go.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so wrong anymore.

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