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2003-07-01 - 4:06 p.m.

I’m probably not seeing The Crush again, anytime soon, because our class together is over. However, the day we had the exam, we were talking and I discovered that he knows pretty well a friend of mine, Queen B.

No only he knows her; he used to work for her. He also still keeps in touch with O, her husband, for work. Apparently, he’s one of the many in her thrall and he absolutely adores her. Oh well… I did realize we had a lot in common.

Because I did adore her, many years ago. In some ways, I still do.

I met Queen B in my first year of law school. Bad year for me, that was. I was just emerging from the worst year in my life, when I had moved in with my mom and dad, after twelve horrible, sad years living with my biological father, evil stepmother, two brothers and one sister (my brother A being my only biological brother).

At my second year living with my mom, I was losing my sister, who so far had been the strongest woman figure in my life.

C, my “sister”… doesn’t play well with others when they are happy. Meaning she could deal with me very well while I was a miserable little girl pining for affection and attention; but not as a girl who was turning into a woman and had the guts to turn her back to all the awfulness in our house. She couldn’t deal that I was finding a way to live with my mother and her father (Yeah. My mother married her father, her mother married my father. I see the soap-operaness of it all, ok? I lived through it. Now wipe that smirk out of your faces).

She couldn’t deal with the fact that her father, notoriously detached emotionally was getting close to me, more and more. I was finding my place in that family and she resented it. At the time, I didn’t really understand what the deal was, since all was shifting: she could’ve found her *own* place there too. All I could see was that she, first, antagonized my mother (Bad mistake. Huge. My mom’s position in my father’s life is rock solid. Besides, Elektra complex much?).

Then, she tried to elbow me out of the picture. Not pretty either. We still don’t talk, to this day.

So I was hurting in all sorts of ways. Losing her was probably harder than losing my biological father.

Then I met Queen B. We became best friends. She is the prototype of the good girl: piano-playing, ballet-dancing, high culture-minded… you get the picture. She looks like a Botticelli drawing, with green eyes, curly light brown hair and pale, milky skin. She was there for me when I needed someone, desperately. Queen B was the one who helped me get over all the pain and became my first true friend.

We used to write long, long silly letters to each other during class. I would forget punctuation and sign “James Joyce”; she’d write back and sign “Virginia Woolf”, her then favorite author. I was welcomed into her family and also became really close to her younger sister (Queen B is three years older than I am and her sister Karo is about ten months younger, so we all got along incredibly well), we’d go to the movies, to the ballet, to concerts. We ate chocolate cake and giggled late at night…

She’s also incredibly funny and cool to hang with. In some ways, like my sister: always in the spotlight, not because she shoves her way in, but just because she is so adorable – and knows her audience so well. Since I didn’t seem to have any personal shine whatsoever, I was always attracted to friends who seemed like they did.

I told her everything there was to know about myself, back then. Then, I found out how much she held back from me.

It was random, really: one of her uncles was a good friend of one of my mother’s best friends, MC. One day, MC randomly mentioned that Queen B’s older sister came from her father’s previous marriage (his first wife died when B’s sister was a baby, he remarried to B’s mother). She had never told me that! I felt betrayed – I had told her stuff so much more private than that – but let it slide… Queen B was just a private person. She just figured it was her *sister’s* story, not her own. Not important. I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I didn’t tell her I knew.

But it was a big deal: I noticed that, while I was extremely open to her, she wasn’t as open to me. She had also a “slight” tendency (as in, “Sarah Michelle Gellar has a ‘slight’ tendency to being a bitch”) to passive aggression.

At that point (this information will become important later), my life was becoming much less miserable than it was when we’d met. Hey, I could even walk holding my head up! Major improvement.

She then met O, who, of course, is perfect: gorgeous and incredibly smart. Their love story was perfect (still is, actually. They have two lovely daughters). So far, so good – I was extremely happy for her.

Then, I fooled around with one of O’s friends. Shortly after, I began dating another of O’s best friends. No big deal, right? I was nineteen, I had just met a bunch of smart and interesting guys, I was at last feeling a bit happier about myself… why not?

Well, because all hell broke loose (in a tasteful manner, of course), that’s why!

Nothing was ever really discussed. We never, ever talked about it. But things changed. I suddenly wasn’t part of the royal entourage anymore. I had fallen from grace. Grace would be taken back and received a lot, back then. It lasted for years, cause I just couldn’t give up on her. She would just be the same ol’ Queen B. I loved, and then, suddenly, would sweetly lash out.

Funnily enough, none of the other people who loved me even *like* her: my parents think she’s self centered and unreliable, Ab Fab (who also went to college with her) thinks she’s annoying and my ex husband loathed her and O.

Why did my ex husband loath O? Oh, right: because when we started dating, in the height of our love, we went to a party and met Queen B and O there. O proceeded to make a funny and tasteful joke (not in an obvious manner, of course. That wouldn’t be… perfect) about how “easy” I was and how he’d better take it while he could.

For a long time, I’d follow this cycle: I’d be hurt because of something she’d say, I’d phase her out; some time later, we’d resume talking, I’d let my guard down… and she’d hurt me again. Lather, rinse, repeat, much to the chagrin of all those around. But she was Queen B. She’d been there for me when I needed a friend and I truly loved her.

Unfortunately, she’s the kind of friend who isn’t happy when I’m happy. She is, however, the best person to have around when I’m miserable: she’s incredibly supportive in the right way. She is also the best conversation ever, whenever we are both off guard, and as weird as it may seem, after all I wrote, she truly cares about me, deeply.

So I learned to play her strengths: we phased each other out, true, but nowadays we can hold a conversation that doesn’t end on me being hurt. We both mellowed, I guess. I’m actually proud of myself, that I managed to do that. I learned to let go to win.

Then it all came back, when The Crush mentioned he knows her. Why I am obsessing about someone that, for one, I can’t have, and besides, I wouldn’t be ready for even if he was available?

Right now, I really need to focus in my work, my studies, my personal life. I can’t manage being in love or even smitten. So I decided to let go. Because I truly want to win here.

 

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