In the 9th
grade, I was “going steady” with a boy who attended the same Catholic Church
and school as I did. We had known each other most of our lives, but we didn’t “notice”
each other until the seventh grade and started “going around” in the 8th
grade. This was the 1960’s – before smart
phones, iPods, and the Kardashians – so we hardly talked or did much of
anything else.
Every
Sunday, the families in our church sat in the same pews, so it was easy to see
who was there and who wasn’t. After the
service, the kids gathered in the courtyard on the church grounds and we talked
while our parents visited with each other.
This one Sunday, my boyfriend wasn’t there, so when I walked over to our
crowd of friends, one of the girls asked about him. I meant to sound “cool,” but instead I said
something cruel, something I have never been able to take back.
I said, “I
know he always follows me around like a lost puppy, but I am not his trainer.” I
even smirked.
Instead
of laughing, the girl’s eyes focused on someone behind me and they widened in
shock. I turned around expecting to find
that my parents had overheard my sassy comment, but instead there stood my
boyfriend. He must have been somewhere in the church where I couldn’t see him
and was about to tap me on the shoulder and surprise me. His smile turned to disgust and his raised hand
dropped to his side. He turned and walked away.
We were
never friends again. Whenever I ran into
him I tried to talk to him. I wanted to
tell him how terribly sorry I was, but he and I went to separate high schools
and separate colleges and he avoided me at church. Fifteen years later, when I went back to
university to get my master’s degree, he was there too, but the moment he saw
me, his demeanor changed and he looked right through me. He always walked away.
That
incident taught me a huge lesson about being two faced.
I know
too many people who pretend to like others.
They smile and chummy up to each other.
Sometimes it is to gain favor and use the other’s friendship or
position; sometimes their pretense is nothing more than cowardice or arrogance. Two-faced people think they are superior;
they lie to themselves and they are more than glad to lie about others.
They
covet what others have or they want to be coveted, believing themselves to be
better. They talk about others, stealing or degrading another person’s
reputation in order to make themselves sound blameless. Two-faced people are pretentious, envious,
dishonorable thieves. They are unworthy
opponents and unworthy of anyone’s friendship. They do not deserve trust or
respect.
That
fifteen-year-old girl I once was never intended to hurt that boy’s
feelings. I really liked him, but that
terrible incident forced me to look at myself and I didn’t like what I
saw.
I have
come to prefer the truth. I prefer honesty
to lies. I can live without false
friendships because I have true ones. I
can get along with what I call “acquaintances,” people who I do not like but
who I need in my circle.
PS: I Googled him not too long
ago. He retired recently from an amazing
career. I don’t know if we would recognize each other since that incident
happened fifty years ago, but given the opportunity, I would still offer him my
apology.
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