Well, I suppose I could really over analyze this right now. I’d rather not though, if only because I’ve over analyzed it so many times before.
So this is what it’s like to have a friendship pissed on.
No seriously, that imagery sounds quite appropriate. There was no ceremonial angry explosion of anger. Nor was there any obvious seething beneath the surface. There was no discussion or agreement to not continue.
There is only silence. House meals are awkward. Last night when one of the girls cooked and called us all in to eat, I knew I was going to feel uneasy. Sure enough, I felt strange. He avoided eye contact. He avoided any conversation. I just continued to eat and joke with the girls because I didn’t want to be sucked into an abyss of ill will.
Whatever. I’ll find my ways of coping. The time of mourning has long passed. I know I can take comfort in the fact that it wasn’t me who dropped the ball.
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