Dear Cary,
I have a very good friend who is getting married soon. She's smart, funny, talented, beautiful and successful. We've been friends for about 12 years (since high school) and we've always had the label "best friends" on our relationship, although we've definitely had ups and downs. Unfortunately, we seem to be at a crossroads. To make a long story short, a while back I introduced my friend to a group of guys that I used to hang out with sometimes, and she got involved with one of these guys. They moved in together really quickly, got engaged a few months later, and they'll be getting married in about three weeks. My friend asked me quite some time ago to be her maid of honor, and of course I said yes.
But the more my friend has told me about this relationship, the more worried I've become. He's called her names that I can't repeat. He lies consistently about where he is and what he's doing (she catches him and laughs it off). She's called me sobbing because he says he's coming home but doesn't arrive. In most of these cases she's already called him, found him drunk at a bar, and he's brushed her off, basically saying that he'll come home when he wants to (driving home drunk, by the way). He has multiple kids by different women. There are plenty more examples, but you get the idea.
My friend has a history of being in abusive relationships -- not bad enough for a movie of the week, but definitely not acceptable either. In the past, I've been outspoken about my concerns. In every case, this led to our not talking for some period of time. I now realize that I'm not going to change her mind about any man, so I've become resigned to being as supportive as possible but being ready to be truthful if asked. Eventually she asked, and I told. I still tried to focus on the positive ("I just want to make sure that you're happy for a long, long time," etc.) so that she would be receptive, but she knows me well enough to have a pretty good idea of how I feel.
I have given this a huge amount of thought and reached the conclusion that the best way I can handle her wedding is to focus on the fact that I'm there to support my friend. I've made the decision to be there for her, and she's made the decision to get married. The getting married part isn't up to me. The being supportive part is. If I stay focused on that part, I know that I can be positive on her big day, which is of course what she wants. I can feel good about doing so because I know that I'm standing by my friend at a major event in her life. Obviously I will be warm and polite to everyone at the wedding. That's how I've been planning to handle things.
Now for the twist: She recently told me that I need to either "choose to change my feelings" and be 100 percent supportive of the situation, or choose not to be involved. I've told her that I am 100 percent supportive of her, and that's what really matters to me. I can change the way I behave, but I can't erase my concern. I also can't "choose" to abandon my longtime best friend during her wedding. I really believe that whether or not to include me is her decision. I think she's avoiding the decision because she doesn't want to be responsible for kicking me out. I don't think she wants me to be there, and at this point it would be much easier to avoid it, but I'm afraid that I'll regret that for the rest of my life.
I don't know what to say or do. It's her wedding and I want to be there for her however she sees fit. I know that if I'm "disinvited" from the wedding, that will be like a nail in the coffin of our friendship. But I also don't want to cause trouble for her by shoehorning myself in where I'm not welcome. At this point I just want to handle the situation with consideration and class, whatever the outcome is, and I just don't know how to proceed.
Here Comes the Bride, There Goes the Friend
Dear Here Comes the Bride,
It's understandable that you want to support your friend. But standing up for her at her wedding implies that you approve of what she's doing when you really don't. It's saying to her, Well, I may have had reservations, but now I think everything will turn out OK.
You and I know that's not true. We don't think things will turn out OK. We think she's headed for stinky husband breath faintly redolent of Budweiser and paint thinner, mysterious car dents, implausible explanations for implausible whereabouts at implausible times of the night, sudden empty wallet syndrome, "friends" who are burglars, the phrase "child endangerment" uttered by state employees, oxygen-deprived skin tone exacerbated by severe bar tan, crushed beer can sculptures in the garage, multiple unpaid parking tickets, third-degree threatening demeanor, unorthodox sleeping outside in the grass and eventually a case of extreme indoor burliness.
This last condition, extreme indoor burliness, describes something I can't otherwise explain, except to say that it arrives late at night with loud, indistinct speech and bad shoes.
Anyway, what I mean is, if she has to drag this guy out of a bar before they're even married, think how much fun it'll be after they're married with three kids. Can you see her showing up to drag him home and he's sliding his kids down that polished bar surface like so many shot glasses? It's going to be really fun dragging him out of the bar then -- because the kids are having fun with Daddy!
She's made her choice. She's given you your options. If you want to be true to yourself, if you want to handle the situation with consideration and class, I think you have to take her at her word. You have to call her bluff. You have to bow out of the wedding.
Does that mean you're not supporting her? Just what is this "support" we're always trying to give our friends, anyway? Is it support when we help them drive off a cliff? Nah. I don't think so. I think what we owe our friends is our influence for the good. And if that conflicts with their knuckleheaded intentions, that's OK. "In opposition is true friendship," Blake said (though he meant something quite different at the time, I'm afraid).
The interesting thing about this is that I see redemption down the road. I don't agree that this is the nail in the coffin for your friendship. It's more as if, in a classic move by a drama queen, she's setting up the second act by pushing you out. Once she hits bottom with this guy, you come back onstage as the good friend, the one who never bought into her whole crazy idea of marrying a troublesome dude just to see how troublesome he really can be. You get to be the hero.
Like I say, this is just the curtain on the first act. In fact, before you leave the stage, I think you get to make a little speech here. You get to tell her that you will always be her friend, that you will always be there for her, and if things go great for her you will be happy. But if things don't go so well, and she needs somebody to talk to, or somebody to bail her out of a tough spot, you'll be there. You can be there when he drives into a ditch with the children in the car and she decides she can't take it anymore. You can be there when he calls from the police station to tell her that they've booked him. You can be there ... whenever it's time for you to be there.
Trust me, there will come a time. Don't change your phone number.
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