I feel like I’m one of those people you either love or you hate. For the most part, I’m pretty aware of who falls into which category. Yesterday I got into a conversation with an old friend (of many years) and a new friend (of a few hours) about: to care what people think or to not.
Old friend: I care a lot what people think. I want to be liked.
Me: Meh, who cares if someone doesn’t like you. If someone doesn’t like me that’s not really my problem.
New friend: (insert laughter)
Old friend to new friend: It’s true. She doesn’t.
Me: Meh, who cares if someone doesn’t like you. If someone doesn’t like me that’s not really my problem.
New friend: (insert laughter)
Old friend to new friend: It’s true. She doesn’t.
And it is true. I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a firm believer in taking in your worst critics, sifting through what is accurate and what is hogwash, and then moving on. I don’t cry. I don’t dwell. I think about it. Then I’m over it.
Within the last few months I received an email from a close friend’s boyfriend who is not really in the I love Kristina fan club. To say this email wasn’t very nice would be a gross understatement. We have had strife, if you will, for years; this wasn’t really our first rodeo. My take away from the email was basically that I’m a horrible person, horrible friend, selfish, conceited, don’t care about anyone but myself, etc, etc. (and there were etcs)...
I’m sure you will not be surprised when I say he did not get a response and we have not spoken since.
Unfortunately (for many reasons) this one has stuck with me. I can’t seem to shake it. It was mean-hearted and hurtful. I am selfish – um, duh – only child here! It’s like, my birth right isn't it? So regardless of the truth in that I’ve always prided myself on being a good friend.
Over the course of the last few weeks I’ve really tried to mind my Ps and Qs.
But right here, right now I’m saying to all of you and Mr. Haterade. I’m moving on. F--- it. I love me. I love my life. And there is nothing wrong with any of that.
What flipped the switch? A) Lots of whisky. B) My friend’s wedding yesterday.
My friends Jess and Jeff got married on one of the most beautiful days of the summer so far. They really could not have asked for better weather. It was perfect. Jess is from Iowa City and Jeff is from outside Boston. Her sister, Julie, and I were talking that they really should have had people pin where they were from because I think California, Massachusetts and most states in between were covered.
I took Jess out for her last drink as Ms. Adams last Sunday. We were talking wedding details and I asked who was sitting at our table. She named off quite a few of our friends and then said she put her friend Anthony at our table because she thought we would get along really well.
Her exact words were: “I’m actually kind of scared about you two being at the same table. You two are going to cause trouble together.”
I was excited to meet my new partner in crime.
After the wedding we all sat at our table and started chatting. And by chatting, I mean I was grilling Anthony. I didn’t mean to but I knew about everyone else at my table, I wanted to know about my new friend that I was going to cause a ruckus with later.
And then it happened: “You’re Kristina aren’t you?”
Everyone at the table laughed. Ha, yep. That would be me.
So here I am with my friends on this beautiful day celebrating the nuptials of two of our friends and what comes into my head? That damn email! I felt Mr. Haterade on my shoulder saying see I told you…always center of attention.
I kind of retreated after this moment. Calmed. Tried not to be too “me”/center of attention like.
Le sigh.
The wedding ends. New friend Anthony, old friend and I all go to a bar in St. Paul for a few more cocktails. We eventually head to a bar in North East Minneapolis where the bride and groom have set up more fun for everyone.
I wanted to meet Jess’ parents whom I had never met before. Jess’ parents and Jeff’s parents were sitting in the back and there was a seat open. I don’t usually wait for someone to introduce me. I’m perfectly capable of doing that on my own. So I walked over and plopped down and said oh you must be Jess’ parents and Jeff's parents, right?
Mrs. Adams: And you must be Kristina.
There it is again! Why must I be Kristina. What does that mean. There goes Mr. Haterade up on that shoulder again.
Le sigh.
We had a great time at the party, chatting with old friends and making new friends. Right before we left Jess asked me to kick out a wedding crasher. Apparently he had been eating their food so I walked up to him and gently advised him that if he was going to eat a stranger’s food the least he could do was congratulate the couple. I escorted him to Jess and Jeff and then he left.
This morning after I woke up I started recapping the day/evening and all the events that led to Mr. Haterade's email coming to mind. Then it hit me:
Sorry for party rockin.
Sure I can be selfish, conceited, a bad friend, etc – who hasn’t at some point in their life?
But at the end of the day I love me and the people I care about do too. I love that I can walk into a room of people that I know and I will always seek out those that I don’t so that they feel included. I love that I welcome a new friend with open arms because I know they know nobody else. I love that one of my strengths is bringing groups who don't know each other together through laughter. I love that when there is a wedding crasher that needs to get kicked out, my friends know they can count on me to do it for them. I shouldn’t be ashamed of my exuberant, fun-loving self because last time I checked I’m not short in the friends department and that’s probably because people like me.
So poof Mr. Haterade, it is time for me to move on. You have stuck around long enough. I can only be me and me is pretty awesome.
