I have an adorable orange kitty I call Bella.
Found out not too long ago that Bella is a Bailey, since I never noticed what he was packing in his blooming pumpkin pants.
In any event, I had a friend who has always had orange cats. She offered on many occasions to adopt Belly (my compromise name) from me.
She said I could visit and hang out with Belly anytime. Which is vital to the next part of the story …
A few weeks ago, Instagram showed me this person as a friend suggestion.
Wait, what? I checked all the other socials. Turns out, she’d already defriended me across them all.
Look, I don’t care. All I ever did was be nice and hopefully helpful to this person.
Look, you wanna Marie Kondo me out ya feed, bye furrlicia. That goes for anyone. Don’t let the cat door hit you on the way out.
I’d actually forgotten she’d wanted Belly till Mom brought it up after she and another suddenly absent friend invited me out this week.
People who I worked with, laughed with, CRIED with.
Now they suddenly besties after complaining about each other to me, yet I’m the one on the outs.
Again, I get it. I’m not in the same place in life as they are. I’m not a skinny little blonde. I don’t work for that company anymore. And I definitely don’t ever want to hear a word about that place again.
It’s just, damn. You can move 1,000 miles away from your high school, but the smell of teen spirit follows you everywhere.
Anyway, Mom said thank god you didn’t let her have Belly.
Not that it was ever a serious consideration. But still, what if it had been?
Now, I wouldn’t even be able to see her on social media, let alone in person.
Meanwhile, there’s this person at my job whom I seem to remember the orange cat lover saying that THEY loved.
I am not in that particular fan club for myriad reasons. This person doesn’t seem to care for me at all, and they don’t hide it.
This almost seems preferable, you know? They don’t know shit about me. Which means they aren’t running it all over town to our mutual contacts.
Of course, I’m sure my former friends spread my past. I won’t return the favor, but I sure could.
(Interesting how everyone “up there” got together this summer and, in unison, all the calls and texts stopped from all but four people in that orbit.)
When I think of everyone who’s betrayed me … which is in effect everyone … I am glad I have my mom. Thank God for her.