The Ouchy Friend

A few years ago, when a friend of mine told me she went ring shopping with her new live in boyfriend. I think I mumbled something bland like "oh, that's nice." My friend was taken aback and retorted "This is why you are my ouchy friend."

Which, I'm not going to lie, hurt me a lot.

Granted, I could have at least pretended to be more excited for her - despite my general and specific disinterest in marriage and weddings. If she had actually gotten engaged I'm pretty sure that I could have gathered up enough enthusiasm (real or otherwise) to be appropriate. I'm pretty sure when she actually did get engaged I made a good showing. I hope.

I was thinking about this because another friend of mine just got engaged this past weekend and I read about it on Facebook. When I asked her at lunch today why she didn't tell me herself she said "I was afraid. It was a double whammy, you don't like marriage and you don't like [insert new fiance's name here]."

Ouch.

She went on to explain that she didn't really mean afraid, but that she was really excited and she knew my reaction wouldn't be equally as excited. I can understand this. When you're "over the moon" you don't want someone bringing you back down to earth. At least not until the afterglow has receded.

On my way back to work I wallowed in my self pity for a few minutes until another friend said "Hey, listen, if she had a problem with it, she wouldn't be friends with you at all."

I'd like to think she's right. I'd like to think that my brand of friendship, though not unconditionally enthusiastic, is valuable somehow. I read this article a while back about how having different kinds of friends is important. One of them, Truth Teller, seems most like me.

I'd rather be the fun friend than the ouchy friend, but some day I hope I'll come in handy. It's not a glamorous job, but someone's got to do it.

What, this is news? Is this even true?

Take it with a grain of salt I suppose. . .So apparently some very sick, very lonely, very much in need of help, man offed himself because he learned about a certain spoiler about a certain character in the new Harry Potter movie.

He tried to avoid any spoilers by unplugging his computer and not going to his favorite comic book store.

Aside from the obvious insanity - killing yourself over something so unimportant - I'm a little confused.

Didn't he read the book on which this movie is based - which came out FOUR YEARS AGO?????

I fucking knew it. . .

Good news for my siblings and me - swearing has benefits.

I swear I did NOT write this (but I should have)!

Dear Sandy,

I regularly see chirpy, T-shirt-wearing representatives of social-service and environmental organizations soliciting donations on the street. They often approach me with lines such as, "Do you have a moment for the environment?" or "Can't you spare five seconds to help battered women?"—with the obvious implication that if I don't talk to them, I am so insensitive as to be unwilling to spare a moment for (insert cause here). Even though I often share their convictions, I find this approach incredibly off-putting and, because of this, never stop to talk to them.

Am I wrong to avoid them? Does this marketing approach really make an impact? Isn't there a better way to spread the message about worthy causes?

—Jessica, Boston

Just call me Roy Hobbs. . .

I'm not what you call a baby person. I don't go all mushy and gooey when I see a random infant, but it doesn't mean I don't like them. The special children in my life are sacred to me, but it's because of who they are not, what they are. Not all teeny tiny human beings set my heart aflutter (puppies on the other hand. . .).

Despite that I have a lot of baby experience. I have 17 first cousins, most of whom are younger than me. I even changed some of their diapers. Lately, as a young woman of child-bearing age, I've had babies of mere acquaintances literally thrust upon me to hold (once against my will). And I've recently held, played with and fed bottles to my friends babies, even during their first days of life.

Which is why it irks me so much that when I hold my little niece I have to hear (repeatedly) the same old phrase, "You look so natural." Because in my mind this comment means two things (both of which are infuriating and obnoxious):

a) we're so shocked and surprised that someone as incompetent as you can hold an infant

OR

b) look at the how motherly you are just because you have a uterus.

Interestingly, Tim, not me, is the one who is a natural with babies and children of all kinds. And not only do people not offer the baby for him to hold, but they do not comment on his obviously abilities. Which, in this sexist society, should come as a surprise if choice a is what is intended. He's a man after all, how is it possible that he could know how to hold an infant (the answer: nine nieces and nephews and a genuine gift for putting others at ease)?

Which leads me to conclude that the real intention is choice b. Perhaps, to give some folks the benefit of the doubt, they are supporting my innate maternity in case I choose to have a baby.

OR they are putting subtle but powerful expectations on me and my ovaries.

Holding and loving one's niece doesn't necessarily translate into fantasies of motherhood. I do love being an aunt. It's only natural. And that's enough for me right now.