I recently went to a dinner party... during which I ended up contemplating the many ways I might be able to kill myself with the plastic utensils I was given to avoid spending any further time with the rest of the guests. (I like cheery introductions.)
Most of these guests were loud, obnoxious and to an extent even rude. The hostess happened to be one of the sweetest people I know so you can imagine my utter disbelief when I found the majority of her friends were one trainwreck after the other. If one wasn't screaming out "YOU ARE SUCH A CUNT LOLOL" at the top of her lungs, another was squealing like a pig at some vague sexual joke she had just made about something in the room. It's safe to say I'd have felt more at home in a brothel.
I often wonder how good people can keep bad company. In recent years, I have made it a point to cut off communication with those I considered "toxic friends," a term I stumbled across on Yahoo.com and plan to pretend I made up. Those friends you have that warrant questioning from others such as, "Why do you keep him/her around?" are the ones I'm referring to. If no one has ever asked you such a question... congratulations, you're that friend.
These also happen to be the friends you have the best stories about and, as entertaining as these stories may be, acquaintances will eventually notice a pattern in that all of these stories end with, "And so she got the abortion" or "And so we bailed him out." What most people don't realize is that the toxicity of these... individuals (I hesitate to call them people) may bleed into aspects of your own personality. Never gone streaking in public before? Well, these friends of yours are going to do their damndest to change that. Never had a one night-stand with some frat douche you met at a bar? Go onnnnn, she's had 30 of those. One won't hurt.
I've never found the value of entertainment to exceed the value of being dignified, but I guess I'm just old fashioned in that respect. I tend to weed out the so-called bad influences because, for some strange reason, I don't have much patience for people who flake on plans and appointments but somehow find the time to call me up at 4 in the morning and ask for a ride somewhere.
I get it, these people might be fun to club with or might know where the best parties are, but they're also the reason you bombed that midterm you should have been studying for. They're that devil on your shoulder, nudging you in their direction because they're lonely and hollow, looking for someone else to destroy from the inside so they don't feel quite so bad about their shitty choices in life. After all, you have shitty choices in friends so why not just go all the way?
Another reason I tend to "excuse myself" when I run into such people is I'm tired of being bored to death by stories of their life and the poor choices that comprise it.
"How did you end up homeless?"
"Well, I dropped out of high school, fucked my step dad, got kicked out, got arrested for stealing a candy bar from 7-11..."
"Oh my, would you look at my wrist? I better get going."
Needless to say, my number of actual friends lingers in the single digits. And some might even go as far as to say that the friends I do have are uninteresting (this from the point of view of those who wake up in strange locations every Sunday morning.) However, I honestly think I'd rather be considered boring with my boring friends than end up pregnant 3 times and have all of my belongings sold by some guy I met in Las Vegas. That happened. To an actual person.
Yet I still enjoy websites such as textsfromlastnight.com because I'm amused and tickled at the antics other morons pull in their free time. I'd never want to actually meet any of these individuals as I may contract a venereal disease simply by sharing the same oxygen, but they're still certainly interesting. And that's all they are. Interesting. These imbeciles you keep around as friends, the ones who break beer bottles over their heads and dance naked on bartops... they're not people. They're merely circus acts, created and nurtured for the amusement of those of us with responsibilities and 401-Ks.
And that's how reality tv came to be. Good night, children.
