For years, the first week in January, I did my taxes. I would do an accounting of all my bills, what I had spent. That January I realized I could no longer be friends with Daphne. I had spent a half weeks pay, money I very much needed, calling her across town, long distance, because I was the kind of person who returned calls when someone, even a flaky someone, called me and left a message. I said I would on my message. So honorable!
Daphne and I had an intact friendship when we lived a canyon apart. She lived not far from work so we got together after.
Then her parents bought her a condo at a real estate auction and she moved to the South Bay.
We made one plan after another and time and time again she cancelled at the last minute. She never said she was sorry or acknowledged that we had a plan or said the world cancel. Instead she'd say that her parents were waiting for her or that the mysterious "Bud" was on his way over. "Gotta Go!" she'd exclaim.
Or - most ludicrous - she'd coo with warmth - "We'll get together soon, I promise!'
I didn't like being put aside for Bud.
She didn't like Bud.
They were all involved in trying to sell real estate. If you want to be cancelled on, involve yourself with someone selling real estate.
Bud was always promising to cut her in. It was clear she couldn't afford to assert herself with the man. She'd call and say he came over but poo he didn't give her any money. Give, not pay.
She told hilarious stories though some were mortifying. Bud had a fart problem and when he let one out everyone could smell, he'd make a face and look around for the real culprit, usually her.
He was crude and embarrassing but he was going to cut her in.
Bud wasn't it.
One call, she never had anyone to date. Next call she'd just been on a Date From Hell. She was taking an emotional beating. Some really were, really bad men you'd put a curse on, if only you knew how. Others, simply Wrong.
Date From Hell.
Date From Hell!
Date From Hell?
If you think I grew to hate Daphne, you're wrong. I admired her for hanging in there. She had terrible struggles and I suspect had developed her sense of humor to get through a life that brought tragedy. I still laugh about stories she told as a naturally gifted storyteller who knew how to build suspense and then let you in to the ending. Stories about real estate agents getting drunk and having sex in bathrooms at parties; so European!
I went over to see her at her condo and see the infamous bathroom.
"They walked out like noone could hear them. Like noone had to pee the whole time they were in there. I don't know what they did. The shower curtain was in the tub. Eeewwe."
We laughed till tears sprang and our tummys hurt then laughed some more.
Daphne was sexy without ever dressing provocatively or moving to attract attention. She got asked out at art galleries. She got asked out at the market in the frozen food section.
Her social skills were terrific. She'd dated celebrities - more stories - who had cut a decade off his age - who needed glue for his wig.
She was artistic and educated. Smart and wise in her way. But Daphne was held hostage by money, her parents money, her step father's money, if she'd get an inheritance or her mother would give it all to her new gay dance partner that let her grind on him, or maybe it would all go to her cousin with all her improbable babies, or maybe her parents would finally help her network her way into marriage with a politician or some rich man would "take her" off their hands."
Meanwhile, I was a overworked worker. I couldn't afford Daphne in my life. I got to that point where I was not willing to make another plan with her.
I finally got it about Bud. Yes, he got leads from her. Maybe he did cut her in and pay her some of the time, but she was involved with him way more than she'd admit to herself or candidly to me, until someone better came along. He gave her money to go buy herself something pretty, while her parents paid her mortgage. She could not afford to support herself in the manner to which she was accustom.
C 2021
