By the next evening, my cold had gotten progressively worse. I came home from work early with a fever and crawled into bed fully clothed. I knew John was bringing Danny home with him for me to meet then we’d have dinner with their old Disney buddies. I was hoping by the time they showed up, I would feel fit to be seen.
I was awakened by the sound of chatter in the living room. I still had a fever, chills and a hacking cough, so I didn’t want to try to be social. I heard John calling me and apologizing to Danny for me not being there to greet him. What am I, a dog? When John finally came into the bedroom, I thought he was checking on me and would clearly see that I wasn’t up for anything.
Instead, he berated me for “being rude” and not coming out to say “hello.” I almost socked him in the jaw. I explained to him that I wasn’t feeling well and to go ahead without me. He then put me on an always charming guilt trip. After a few minutes of it, I gave in. Scruffy, wrangled hair, blood shot eyes, runny nose and a box of tissues, I shuffled into the dining room where Danny was sitting having a drink.
I stood at the doorway and introduced myself as politely as I could.
“Wow,” he stated with a fake tone. “Your pictures don’t do you justice. You’re way hotter in person.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Don’t blow smoke up my ass.
I consider myself a good judge of character and I can read a person within five minutes. Something about Danny rubbed me in a synthetic fiber kind of way.
“You must have cataracts,” I replied.
I explained why I was keeping my distance and apologized that I wouldn’t be able to join them. He, too, then, began to do the whole guilt song and dance.
“Oh, I wish you would. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I smiled but still graciously declined.
“John tells me you’re a writer. I want to hear all about it,” he stated, as if reading from a script.
I looked over at John and could tell he really wanted me to go. I knew it was important to him, so I finally gave in after he promised we would only be there for an hour. I cleaned up, stuffed my pockets with tissue and we were off.
At dinner, Danny was sitting in a harem of “friends,” while John and I were segregated off to the side. As I attempted not to fall asleep, I caught bits and pieces of conversations. One in particular piqued my interest.
There was a young lady there (dressed in traditional Disney colors; red, white & black, might I add) who apparently had met him when she was a little girl and he played Prince Charming. Ever since, she had been following him on Facebook and through the Disney cast website. She practically sat on his lap the entire night. That’s a little obsessive if you ask me.
An hour or so had passed and Danny still had yet to say one word to John or me. Wants to hear all about me, huh?
The NyQuil was really kicking in. I felt exhausted, irritated and disrespected. I pleaded for John to take me home, but he insisted that we stay, not only because it was his “friend”(who hadn’t spoken to him all night, mind you) but also because he had to drive him back to his hotel. Apparently, none of the 10 other people he’d been talking to were good enough “friends” to drive him.
After about 30 more minutes, I was pretty much incoherent and had my head down on the table. John got up to go to the restroom. As he walked away, Danny slid into John’s chair. I raised my head. He apologized for ignoring us, but I was far past apologies. But I told him not to worry about it.
“I do want to talk to you, though,” he said.
“Ok,” I said, willing to give him a second chance. “What do you want to know?”
“I hear you’re a writer. What do you write about?”
Just as I was opening my mouth to speak, he turned to the girl sitting next to him and began talking to her. That’s it! I was officially done!
I stood up and grabbed my coat to go outside for a cigarette.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry,” I replied smarmily. “I don’t want to interrupt your little cult-fest there.”
“My what?”
I sat back down. “I don’t get the whole Disney-obsessed thing,” I explained, thinking he would try to clarify it for me.
“I can’t believe how you’re talking to me.”
“And that one girl,” I said pointing to his biggest fan. “She met you like 20 years ago, playing Prince Charming and has been following your career ever since? Can you say, ‘Crazy?'”I emphasized by twirling my index finger in a circular motion on the side of my forehead.
“You don’t understand.”
“I guess not.” Instead of apologizing for his rudeness, he simply turned away. How childish. “I guess we’re done here. This was fun. We should do it again sometime.” I stood up and walked outside to smoke.
When I returned, John and Danny were sitting off to the side having a heated discussion. As I approached, Danny stood up and brushed past me to go sit back with the group.
“Is there a problem?” I asked John.
Then, John began to scold me in the middle of the restaurant, accusing me of being rude to his friends and calling me countless names. I was stunned that he would treat me that way without hearing my side. It’s one thing for a stranger to be rude to me but for my partner to disrespect me like that infuriated me and broke my heart.
Since Danny wouldn’t speak to John, he finally decided we could leave. We didn’t speak on the ride home nor for the next week. I was hoping he would realize how unfair and insolent he was to me, but like most men, he was too stubborn. So, I decided to speak my case. After about an hour, he finally broke down and apologized. It still stung though, how he could side so easily with someone else over me; and not just anyone, but someone that was practically a stranger.
A few days later, I was on Facebook and happened to look at John’s page. There, in plain sight, was my proof; a message from Danny, stating how much he missed John and wanted him to come stay with him. The final sentence said it all.
“Get Unhitched.”
I didn’t want to start another fight, but I knew I had to discuss my feelings/insecurities withJohn. At first, he was mad and felt that I was checking up on him. He revealed that Danny had been telling him that I was that kind of boyfriend; one who checks up on him, looks through his phone, emails, etc… How dare Danny make assumptions about me when he doesn’t even know me! It’s one thing not to like someone, but it’s another to try to meddle with someone’s personal relationships you know nothing about!
On the other hand, I had to wonder what John was telling him, whether he was truly naive or just loving the attention.
In the end, we came to an agreement. I agreed not to tell him who he could be friends with. He agreed to tell Danny to stay out of our relationship.
Erik Fact: It’s a common misconception that your single friends are just dying to see you happily dating, coupled, or married off. It’s also not surprising that a few of your partner’s single friends may not want him happily dating, coupled, or married off; or at least just not with you. He may not be aware of this. That’s why you have to be smart enough for both of you when it comes to managing friends.
