Sometimes I decide to write about something in my past, possibly something not even remotely positive, and I always want to title the post, “The Time Has Come…” – I think I actually have titled at least one post that very thing.

There have been a few bloggers who opened up their past and really shed light on some very dark and ugly closets. I respect those bloggers immensely for facing those things. I think sometimes I look at my own experience and say to myself, “Amy, seriously, get real here, girl. This is not that bad and you are going to look like a silly, grudge-holding, whiner.” I’m always very hard on myself in this manner, it’s not healthy, I know. What is even more amusing is that when I look at the same situation from the viewpoint of a wife and mother with three children, my opinion is very, very different. In the terms of, were this a situation MY child was encountering someone would be getting their ass kicked.

My best friend growing up was a pudgy girl from a family that was very, very different than my own, at the time anyway. Her mother had been married two or three times, had two kids from the first marriage and then had my friend from her last marriage. The concept of “half-siblings” seemed very strange to me. Especially the age difference, her siblings were a great deal older than she was. We were very close and spent a great deal of time at each other’s houses.

She lived in a house with her grandparents, her older brother and sister, and her mom. She and her mom slept in the den together, which made for awkward sleep overs where I would get the floor next to the pull out sofa bed they slept on. Needless to say, late giggly nights were not in order.

I spent the night because I “had to” otherwise she (my friend) would throw a fit because “it’s not fair that I always have to spend the night at your house.” Yes, my house where I had a large bedroom to myself, parents who had their own lives, and actual privacy. I can’t imagine why it was easier to just stay at my house rather than deal with her two older siblings (both of which could be bitchy, selfish and just plain shitty), over zealously religious grandmother who threw gigantic fits if she heard us listening to the radio, and a mother who butted into and got way too involved with her youngest child’s friends and social life. Right down to getting involved in spats with other kids. And by kids – I do mean children under the age of 13.

It was a huge deal when my friend was 9 or 10 and her older siblings got married, moved out and she finally got her own room. Although, her grandparents were pretty religious and when she wanted to paint the room black and accent with Elvis (God help me, I’m NOT joking here) her grandmother threw a fit insisting that black was the color of the devil or something.

Somewhere along the line she became pretty good friends with my mom, who happened to be getting a divorce at the time, and voila` instant drama gratification. She would call my mom and say she saw my dad out with his girlfriend. She would call my dad under the pretense of discussing me and my sister in an attempt to stir up drama or just to be involved.

Blah, blah, blah, life moves on. Our 8th grade year and I had a boyfriend in high school. Once or twice he stopped by my house while my mom was at work on his way to the mall, I lived about three blocks behind the mall at the time. I look back now and realize that this isn’t something unusual, many girls have done this and worse, while I wouldn’t want MY kid hanging out with her high school boyfriend alone (not that she has one, thank God) – it’s not some sort of scarlet letter moment that you bear for all of eternity. Although, it’s taken me almost 20 years to realize that.

But, not that afternoon. That afternoon my boyfriend was seen on his way home from the direction of my house (also the same direction as the mall. Why couldn’t I have realized that at 14?) and my friend was either being dropped off or picked up by her nosy, meddling mother. Not long after I got a phone call from my friend’s mother and the blackmail began. Years later I realized a responsible parent would have just gone to another parent and said, “Gee, I think your daughter had company while you were at work.” Not this parent. She called me implied she knew my boyfriend had been at my house (implying some sort of mind-reading or psychic capability) and went on to say how “disappointed” my mother would be “if” she ever found out.

In short, I wouldn’t know when or I wouldn’t know where but at some point she would expect a favor in return for her silence. Years later I realized that this was pretty sick. But, at the time I just knew that this was very typical of this person and what a screwed up coincidence that she happened to be driving down the road as my boyfriend was seen walking down it.

This “friend” and I remained friends until our Freshman year of high school where we went our separate ways and she and her mother dedicated a lot of time to harassing me for the next few years, but that’s a story for another day.