Epistolic Exchange

Some of my readers may well know an old friend and former roommate of mine, Gavin Williams. Well, Gavin is difficult to describe, without reaching too far into hyperbole, but he is an interesting character. I hadn't heard from him for a while, so I sent him a letter. The letter, his response, and my ensuing rejoinder are all included below for your reading benefit. Unfortunately the situation requires too much explanation for those on the outside, but those readers who are acquanted with the situation may have an idea what this is all about.
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Gavin,

If I sent an email to a long lost friend every time I thought about one, I'd be a prolific emailer. As it is, I'm a prolific thinker, and an occasional emailer. But as it is, "occasional" here means about every three plus years, and that's a long time by anyone's standards.

I'm just writing to catch up and see how you are. What's new? How's your family? Has it grown any since 2004? (God, has it been that long?)

For my part, life has been good to me. You may or may not know that Dara and I got married in Hawaii last may (it was a small, but beautiful, wedding). We've been living in California for the past year, with Dara working as a trainer for Lending Tree, while I train as a commercial real estate appraiser (of all things). So that's us. If you have some time on your hands, I'd love to know how you're doing. I hope this email finds you well.

Cheers,
Myke


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It's not just a long time. It's negligent and rude. As for me, lots is
new, my family is doing the best it can and yes it's grown since 2004. And
if you were my best friend, like I thought you were in second year at
Glendon, you would know that. But instead, your wife blew me off when I
invited you to my wedding and I never heard from you again until now. For
years I did my best to stay in touch with you when I could, even when you
were on the road, and I went through Dara whenever I couldn't contact you
myself. When my life changed dramatically, whether for my masters program
or getting married, I contacted you. I recall even calling long distance
just to tell you I was engaged. So given that I tried, and you're just a
prolific thinker, ask me if I think you're trying hard enough now for me to
care that you got around to emailing me.

And instead of getting defensive, like most people do when someone yells at
them, actually think about what I'm saying and see if there's more that you
can do to repair a friendship than just saying "oh, I finally got around to
writing instead of thinking.

__




Sir Gavin,

Don’t talk to me about rude. Rude is turning a letter of greeting into one of conflict. And don’t instruct me not to get defensive, either. You who would turn the hospitality of my letter into an opportunity to stab at me after your long and obvious years of bitterness. I can see you’re still living in that fantasy world of yours, where Gavin is the perfect, chivalrous knight. Well, here’s a wake up call to your fantasy: you are not so perfect, and neither is your memory.

You paint a portrait of the loyal friend faithfully trying to get a hold of his best friend (a moniker of your devising, not mine), but your memory of the situation is slightly skewed. For starters, you never called me to tell me about your engagement. In addition, your wedding invitation was made out to “Michael Harrison and guest,” which ignores the longstanding friendship you had with Dara at the time, although it is consistent with your later policy of being condescending to, and often ignoring her. (She has a name and you know it, so don’t just call her “[my] wife.”) Moving on, my wife didn’t blow you off for your wedding, it was your stag and doe, and you blew her off first. Your brother invited me, through Dara, and she told him I wouldn’t make it because it was her birthday. The nerve. And what about inviting her? Not best friend material, I suppose. I’ll have her mail her friendship bracelet back.

And here’s how I found out that you were going to be a father: “P.S. She’s due by December 10th.” A little postscript tacked on to the end of a mass email. This is how you let your “best friend” know you’re going to be a dad and that you’re getting married? Was it because you were hiding something? Because maybe it wasn’t your child, as we all suspect? Or was it because, unlike that fantasy image of yourself, you are as imperfect a friend as the rest of us? I suspect it’s because you’re as much of an asshole as you have characterized me to be. Ask yourself why so many of your other friends didn’t stick around.

Now if the idea of me occasionally thinking of you is so offensive to you, take solace in the fact that I shall fully abandon the practice. Some things never change, Gavin; and your tenuous grasp on reality proves just that.

P.S. We have a cat.