My friend married well. She’s now forgotten she used to drive a Clio around Basingstoke.
A friend of mine has married very well. Lovely house, lovely holidays, a kitchen with two dishwashers. Delighted for her. I have eaten in the kitchen and would happily do so again.
What I’m finding harder is the way she now talks as though she was raised by the National Trust.
We used to split a meal deal. Last week she described a perfectly nice hotel as “rather provincial” and asked whether my new bag was “a stopgap”. It is my bag. There is no succession plan.
Then, over lunch, she said, “I just think some people are naturally drawn to a certain standard of living.”
And I thought: if it wasn’t for him, she’d be driving a Clio around Basingstoke.
I did not say it. I deserve some credit for this.
Twenty minutes later she asked me to drive her home because she didn’t fancy getting the big car out of the car park. We went in my little hatchback, with her holding a leaking bag of leftover chips on her lap. She ate most of them.
That was the first time all afternoon she felt like my actual friend.
Do I tell her she’s getting a bit much, or am I just jealous of the second dishwasher?
The chat 30
“A stopgap” is a dreadful thing to call someone’s bag. I’d have asked what hers is keeping the seat warm for.
Basingstoke and the Clio have done absolutely nothing to deserve being dragged into this.
@bagforlifecoach The Clio would have got out of the car park without involving a second household.
Two dishwashers sounds excessive until you realise you could just move things between them and never empty either. I may have to reconsider my entire kitchen.
Tell her the bag comment hurt. Leave her husband’s money out of it. She’s being snobby, but “you’d be nothing without him” won’t get your old friend back. The chips suggest she’s still in there.
@woollyunreasonable Fair. I wouldn’t actually say the husband bit to her. It was an uncharitable thought and I’ve brought it here because I know it was. The bag comment did sting, though. I’d been pleased with it.
@fauxpasandprosecco Then keep being pleased with it. You bought a bag, not an entry-level friendship.
Did she definitely mean the bag was cheap? “Stopgap” could mean you’d mentioned wanting a different one. The hotel comment sounds tiresome, but I would check before putting the whole friendship on trial.
@cashmerepolice I’d still have a favourite mug that somehow wasn’t in either of them.
The bit about the chips is rather lovely. It sounds as though you miss being comfortable together more than you mind her having money.
I would like to defend having standards while also requesting a lift home. Some of us contain multitudes.
@thegoodcutlery No, I hadn’t mentioned another bag. She asked where it was from, I told her, then she said it. I did the little laugh you do when you haven’t decided whether someone’s insulted you yet.
@fauxpasandprosecco That laugh. Then you spend the journey home coming up with the sentence you should have said at lunch.
Were they your chips or hers? I need to know whether she insulted your bag AND ate your chips before I reach a verdict.
@royalboxornothing Your standards are going to have to sit in the back. There’s a car seat in the front.
@lordofthefries Mine. She said she wasn’t hungry when I ordered them. I realise I’ve buried some fairly important evidence.
@fauxpasandprosecco I still wouldn’t bring up the money. “I liked my bag and that comment made me feel small” is enough. Her reaction will tell you more than another lunch spent quietly resenting her.
People saying “I’m not hungry” while you order chips need to be given a second, legally meaningful opportunity to reconsider.
@mindingmyknitwear Yes. Being able to sit in someone’s car eating chips without making an occasion of it is most of what I want from friendship.
The National Trust line made me laugh, but is she actually happy? Sometimes people become very keen on how things look when they’re not enjoying how things feel. I’d ask her that before assuming she’s just gone posh.
@minorroyalenergy Possibly. Although sometimes someone gets a nicer kitchen and becomes a bit of a pain. We don’t have to find a tragic explanation for every rude comment.
I’d invite her somewhere you both used to enjoy. If she spends the whole time apologising for the surroundings, have the conversation. If she relaxes, you might both get a decent afternoon out of it.
@mindingmyknitwear That’s exactly it. I miss not having to think about what to wear before I see her. We used to meet with wet hair. Now I catch myself checking my shoes for scuffs.
@fauxpasandprosecco Has she commented on the shoes, or are you doing that bit to yourself? Not having a go. I’ve made myself miserable trying to pass a test nobody else was setting.
@fauxpasandprosecco Ah, with that context I’d have been hurt by the bag comment too. You don’t have to prove you’re completely free of jealousy before you’re allowed to dislike being spoken to like that.
I can be happy for a friend and jealous of her kitchen. I am versatile.
@botoxforbegonias She hasn’t said anything about my shoes. That bit is me. I think I’m bracing for another comment, but you’re right that I can’t make her responsible for ones she hasn’t actually made.
@champagneproblems Especially a kitchen with two dishwashers. I’m trying to remain principled but I do keep returning to that detail.
@emergencycardigan Coffee somewhere ordinary sounds sensible. No grand confrontation over a tasting menu. Just tell her you miss how easy it used to be.
I think “I miss how easy it used to be” is what I needed to find. I’ll leave the Clio out of it, keep the bag and order separate chips. Thank you.
You’ve definitely got an opinion.
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