Everyone has a Crazy Friend

Mena has a really funny story about a childhood friend.

I had a friend like Patty, too, except her name was Tammy and she was rich and spoiled rotten and smelled bad. (I alternated between altruistically feeling sorry for her and liking that she always had money to buy candy and share).

One day Tammy called and wanted to play. I didn't feel like dealing with her, and then -- as now -- was very poor with the immediate pressure of talking on the phone. "I can't," I blurted out, "my family is, uh... going to Disneyland today."

"Oh, goody!" said Tammy. "I'll ask my mom if I can go with you!"

Now, my mom had pretty well hammered into me the finer points of Not Imposing on others. You didn't invite yourself over to people's houses, or ask them for things or favors unless it they were offered. But Tammy was blatantly Imposing, and worse yet, she didn't seem to have any clue that she was. I reached in for another dose of parental wisdom: the Sanctity of the Family-Only Thing.

"But it's just my family that's going -- I mean, it's a Family-Only Thing," I said.

And Tammy said: "That's okay; I don't mind! I'll go ask my mom!" and I heard the clunk of her pink Princess phone (grimy, of course) hitting the nightstand and footsteps.

I stood frozen with the phone in my hand for a long moment. We were not, of course, going to Disneyland. Oh, agony: not so much being caught in a lie, but realizing that I was not capable of continuing a line of lies or truths that would accomplish my original goal of just plain getting rid of Tammy for the day.
All I could think of to say were cruel (honest) things, and I didn't have the heart to be mean. (As an 8-year-old: that talent kicked in with a vengeance later)

As I was standing there holding the receiver blankly, I could hear the faint disembodied voice of Tammy assuring me that her mother said she could go, and that don't worry, she would have money to pay her own way...

"Moooooommm!" I shouted.

I covered the receiver with my hand and explained the situation.

It took a few minutes for her to stop laughing.

She took the phone. "Hi, Tammy? Can I talk to your mom?" She waved me out of the room -- I suspect less because she didn't want me to overhear than because she didn't want to start laughing again mid-conversation.

"Next time," my mom said, "just say 'My mom said no'."

Tuesday 23 July, 11:33 PM