My wife’s on a tear today. “I have no ‘normal’ friends,” was the phrase with which she initiated the one-sided argument, while I was doing my Saturday “thing,” watching an old movie, “The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer,” as awaited the Yankees-Angels game on television.
I didn’t help the situation by noting that it truly wasn’t my fault. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know my wife’s a “recovering” alcoholic. Consequently, most of her friends are in that “club.”
Now there’s nothing that precludes an alcoholic from making “normal” friends, arguably, many do and have regular lives. However, it seems to me that while my wife assiduously extends herself to help other alcoholics (to wit, search “The Houseguest who almost stayed forever” on this blog), she doesn’t really make a similar effort in the “real world.”
My wife’s a bit of an elitist: She’s frequently pretensed. Now she’s quite well put together and remarkably attractive as I’ve said before and extraordinarily well-dressed (two walk in closets and, in fact, a guest room that acts as a closet with rolling racks and other storage). This is rather off putting to some, if not many. I’m not suggesting that she tone down her apparel choices (women are frequently so different than men when it comes to that issue). However, a touch of humility or even a bit of a façade of an unassuming nature wouldn’t be a bad idea, though these suggestions would probably cause mayhem in the house.
Granted, a bit of this may be hormonal, as she is 57, or perhaps all of it, though that’s doubtful. We’ve scaled back somewhat in this economy. Well, she has which means she doesn’t go shopping every week or every other week. I don’t buy much of anything, save lunch out from time to time. As the fellow said to the bartender in “McSorley’s Old Ale House,” the opening story in “Up In The Old Hotel,” “I’ve had my share.”
But it is absolutely beyond me why she can’t live her life with some greater degree of contentment than she apparently has. If one wants new friends, go find them. I’m not sure how one does that if one doesn’t have a day to day job, but it certainly happens. She worked for a children’s charity for a few years and made friends there, but when the charity dried up, she made little attempt to maintain contact. I suggested she take a look about for other outlets.
It’s not my job though, to make friends for her. Hell, my closest friends live far away, other states, but I do have a fellow here with whom I talk regularly who might be considered a close friend. Ironically, he’s a recovering alcoholic.
At this stage of my life I suppose I’m just becoming a bit eccentric and grouchy. I think I’m entitled.
