Andrea Wilson Woods' Blog

I remember the exact moment when TJ and I started becoming friends. We were coworkers sitting in a conference room celebrating another employee’s birthday. As the party wound down, people went around the room and announced their birthdays. He said, “August 13″ to which I replied, “Oh my god! Another Leo! Mine is August 15—no wonder we get along so well.” Everyone laughed.

The truth is that TJ never wanted to like me. When our former boss hired me to be the second writer in a small department at USC, TJ viewed me as a threat even though his workload became lighter. Sure, he asked me to edit his articles and I asked him to review the tone of my letters (ostensibly from the dean), but our tasks were different. When TJ told me months later that he had planned to hate me, I laughed at his silliness, but I then remembered his cool tone toward me when we first met during the hiring process. He wasn’t kidding.

As time went on, TJ and I discovered we had many similarities beyond our jobs and writing. We love Disneyland and went there together for our birthdays; we even like the same rides. We often found the same men attractive. We both love Gone with the Wind, and we have similar coffee cups only I have Rhett Butler and he has Scarlett O’Hara. When I was crying during the movie Enchanted, I sent TJ a text because he had urged me to see the film. His text reply was, “We are the same person.”

Indeed, he often seemed like the masculine version of me except that he goes to bed early, he doesn’t like animals, he has less confidence, and despite having many friends, he doesn’t seem capable of forming a long-term relationship with anyone. That should have been my first clue, but I know it’s hard to find the right person and perhaps more difficult when you are gay. I wanted TJ to find an amazing man, but as much as he let me into his world, I still only understand it from an outsider’s perspective. Most of all, I wanted him to be happy.

Five months after we met, I quit my writing job for another position at USC. It didn’t change our friendship; we still met for lunch, for coffee, or for a walk around campus. Another eight months later, TJ left academia for a job in the entertainment industry. He ended up working less than ten minutes from my house so we continued to hang out—only the locations were different. I have met his friends and his cousin; he has met my husband, my stepmother, and my friends. TJ and I have spent holidays together, and I have attended many parties at his house. I could never call him late at night, but I would text him about any subject and we would go back and forth exchanging messages. I will miss our texting.

I think ending a romantic relationship is easier than ending a friendship, but maybe that is because I am usually the dumper and not the dumpee. I’ve lost many friends in the past ten years, but in most cases, I understand what happened even if I don’t agree with the outcome. With TJ and me, it feels like I’m watching a bad Lifetime movie. I guess it started after his last Oscar party when his roommate became incredibly drunk and said horrible things about me, which I didn’t hear, but my husband did. I told TJ in an email that my husband and I would not be attending any more parties if his roommate was present. I didn’t tell TJ to ignite a fight; I only wanted him to know that if we turned down a party invitation, it wasn’t personal.

I never wanted or needed TJ to defend me from his roommate, but I thought TJ should know the truth. Then he left for Paris, a trip that he had planned for two years. He didn’t call me before leaving (another clue), and I was disappointed but I thought he would phone when he returned. He didn’t. I called him while I was driving, which was my mistake because the conversation became emotional for me. When I found out TJ had been home for almost two weeks (I thought it had been four days) and hadn’t bothered to say hello—not even a text or an email, I was hurt and I told him so. I got off the phone before I started crying, but I didn’t hang up on him. He thinks I did.

Three weeks passed, and I didn’t hear from him. On the advice of another friend, I left TJ a message emphasizing that I was not mad and that I cared about him. I asked if he still wanted to be friends. He returned my call the next day and left a message. It was long. It contained lies. It was painful. Tears were falling down my face before his message ended. I wailed. Like an animal. He wants to “take a break from our friendship.” A break? Even in a message, he couldn’t be completely honest. Our friendship is over.

I wish I had picked up the phone, but I don’t answer it when I’m working out. I don’t think TJ would have said some of those things to me directly. Maybe it’s better this way. He doesn’t even sound like the same person. I don’t know this new TJ with the cold voice, distant manner, and edgy tone. I don’t like him. I don’t know what I expected, but after three years of friendship, I never thought I would be dumped. I still love the old TJ, the friend who made the best gluten-free pizza, championed my writing, asked my advice, adored my husband, and flinched when I hugged him.

My husband has said on many occasions that TJ wants “everything to be nice.” Indeed, TJ became upset if my husband and I argued in front of him (but he also disliked any displays of affection). His attitude reminds me of those female Mormons who left the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints; they always say that their parents told them to “keep sweet.” Get real. Life isn’t nice and sweet all the time. I know TJ didn’t want to discuss his roommate, but I don’t regret being honest with him in an email. After all, if you can’t be honest with your good friends—especially over someone else’s behavior, then why remain friends?

Or maybe … no matter what the situation is … people—especially friends—cannot handle the truth.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. I apologize for my long absence. Godaddy and Wordpress were having security issues so I wasn’t able to access my blog for a month. If during that time you read my blog or my website, please run the following free software Malware and Trojan Remover on your computer to ensure that you didn’t pick up any cookies, viruses, or trojans. I will continue my Learning to Love LA Again series later this week.

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Did you realize there are over 46,000 quizzes on Facebook? Even though I know these “tests” are not created by experts, I am still drawn to them. However, the results rarely surprise me except for the What color is your soul? quiz. I thought maybe my soul was red because it’s my favorite color or even orange because I have a quick temper. I would have understood if my soul was blue because I suffer from periods of melancholy. But according to Facebook, the color of my soul is yellow, “the color of sunshine.”

Apparently, yellow is associated with “joy, happiness, intellect, energy, and a strong sense of humor.” This quiz even figured out that I have a good head for business. (I guess Donald Trump’s soul is yellow, too.) I radiate a sunny personality. Sounds terrific—right? However, I remember another meaning for the word yellow: coward. Just watch some films from the 1930s and eventually a gangster will accuse one of his men of being “yellow.” In that sense, I do have a yellow soul, and I recall its worst public appearance.

I had been out drinking and dancing with two women—one friend Becky and her friend Sarah. Now Becky and I were not especially close, but she had been good to my sister while she was ill. Therefore, we tried to form a friendship despite our many differences. Though she volunteered her time to lots of causes, Becky didn’t actually work. She dry-cleaned her blue jeans. She once bought a $3000 watch just “because she could” but she had never worn it. I didn’t begrudge having more money than I did; I just didn’t understand her. Even if I had a million dollars in the bank, I cannot imagine not working (e.g., no one pays me to write my blog), I wouldn’t buy something that I wouldn’t wear, and I wouldn’t dry-clean clothes that can and should be laundered. However, she was a wonderful mother and a good person so we spent time together.

Deciding we were hungry after our evening at Howl at the Moon, Becky, Sarah, and I went to Mel’s on Sunset Blvd. The hostess sat us in the corner next to an obnoxious group of 20-somethings whose noisy racket could be heard over the buzz of the crowded restaurant. Becky and I sat next to each other with our backs to the “kids” while Sarah sat across from us. We complained about them while we waited for our food. When it arrived, I made a joke about doing something to shut them up. Becky and Sarah laughed. Without thinking, I threw the garnish on my plate—an orange slice—behind my head. Having a perfect view of what had happened, Sarah stopped laughing. Her face froze. I didn’t know it, but my aim had been flawless. The orange slice had hit one of the young women squarely in the face.

Everything happened so fast. The woman screamed, cursed, and pointed at Becky. The group turned to our table and started yelling at us. One young man accused Becky of targeting his girlfriend. There were three of us and six of them. Confused and trembling, Becky shook her head. Instead of claiming responsibility for my actions, I turned yellow. All I could muster was, “She didn’t do it. She didn’t do it.” Since oranges don’t magically fly through the air, no one was listening to me. I cannot remember any other time in my life when I’ve acted like such a coward. When I’ve allowed a friend to accept the blame for my bad behavior. When I’ve been so … yellow.

Eventually, the manager intervened and ejected all of us. (I think I may be banned from that Mels for life.) Outside, the security guard told us to stay back until the kids left the premises because they were members of an Asian gang that ran around in Hollywood. Even though our fear had been warranted, it was no excuse for what I had done. Or didn’t do. Becky barely spoke as she drove me home. Despite my numerous apologies, that incident incited the end of our friendship. Things were never the same between us. She had seen the color of sunshine turn ugly.

According to the quiz, someone with a sunny personality will also “shun responsibility, preferring freedom of thought and action.” (They always tell you the positive stuff first.) Wow. Maybe I do have a Yellow Soul—happy, humorous, and energetic, but also reckless, irresponsible, and cowardly. I can accept all of those adjectives except for the last one. I pride myself on living my life without fear. The next time I do something stupid (and I will) like throwing a piece of fruit at a bunch of gangsters, I’m going to stand up and say, “It was me. I did it. Take your best shot, asshole.” The first hit is for Becky.

AWW — XoXo

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One of my favorite episodes of Seinfeld deals with the issues of friendship, sex, and love—otherwise known as: This, That, and The Other. The back story of the characters Jerry Seinfeld and Elaine Benes includes a romantic relationship that evolved into a friendship. However, during season two, Jerry and Elaine find themselves in an unusual situation. Neither one of them is dating anyone, nor do they have any prospects on the horizon. After watching some soft-core porn on television, Jerry and Elaine discuss whether they should have sex with no strings attached (i.e. friends with benefits). In an episode titled, “The Deal” they establish a list of rules that will keep their friendship (This) intact while they reignite their sexual relationship (That).

1. No kissing
2. No phone call the next day
3. Spending the night is optional

Of course, things don’t go according to plan—especially after Jerry offends Elaine by giving her $182 in cash for her birthday. I love this episode because it illustrates how complex relationships are and how despite the best intentions (e.g., “The Deal“) people hurt each other. I also realized I’ve experienced every combination of This, That, and The Other.

This + The Other = Friend—This combination may seem unusual at first. How many people fall in love with their friends? Well, it’s happened to me. Twice. Okay, I’ll admit the words “in love” may be too strong, but I definitely had feelings for the men, and I was attracted to them. However, my kiss compatibility theory failed me in these two cases. *
No matter how hard I tried (no pun intended), I was not sexually compatible with my friends, and I don’t know how you can fix that problem. Either you have “That” or you don’t. In one case, the friendship resumed after some time had passed, but the other man never spoke to me again.

That + The Other = Lover—This combination is far more common because many people are not friends with their spouses, partners, significant others, etc. Recently, a male friend told me how his girlfriend made a point of stating that they were not friends, “I don’t fuck my friends,” she said, “You are my lover.” She went on to say did not want to be his friend because she already had plenty of friends.
Although I don’t feel that way about my husband, I understand her point of view. My ex-boyfriend and I were never friends. I didn’t want to be his friend. I realized a few years into our relationship that I didn’t even like him. I loved him; we were together seven years and he wanted to marry me (dodged that bullet), but we were never friends.

This + That = Friend with Benefits—As Jerry and Elaine discovered, this combination is tricky. I find it’s much easier when you just have “That” otherwise known as the Fuck Buddy. Without the friendship, there really are no strings. You don’t have to know what’s going on in the person’s life. You don’t need to care. If both people know the relationship serves one purpose—sex—then it can be quite mutually satisfying. The only rule here is Don’t Be Greedy. Appreciate the “That” and don’t try to turn it into something it’s not supposed to be. If it were going to be “This” or “The Other” it would have happened already.

This and That sound great in theory, but usually the friend-with-benefits relationship becomes unbalanced. I’ve experienced it once in my life, and the sex lasted for a while until I developed feelings for my friend. Like Elaine, I wanted it all: This, That, and The Other, but he didn’t see me as “girlfriend material.” Therefore, we dropped the sex and returned to being just friends. A few years later though, we found ourselves very much in the same predicament that Elaine and Jerry did—we were both single, and we missed having a regular sex life. Though it wasn’t planned per se, we shared a spectacular evening full of That. We knew the terrain and there were no big surprises. Afterward, I realized I could never let it happen again if I wanted our friendship to survive. I cared too much; I yearned for The Other. So I gave up the That to save the This.

This + That + The Other =Ideal Mate—The ultimate threesome, This, That, and The Other is what I had always hoped to find in a spouse, and I did. I like that my husband is my best friend. Forty years from now, we may not being doing That as often as we would like, and if we didn’t have the This—what the hell would we talk about? I also know no matter how much gravity attacks my body, my husband enjoys me as a friend. With benefits. Plus The Other. He stimulates me in every way possible: intellectually, physically, and emotionally. As Jerry said, “Who wouldn’t want This, That, and The Other?”

AWW — XoXo

* My college roommate and I hypothesized that sexual compatibility between a man and a woman could be determined by examining their kissing compatibility. (Not a novel theory, but we used a scientific method.) Factors included kissing techniques, touch sensitivity, heart palpitations, goose bumps, time lapses, irrational decisions, etc. Though the sample was small, we determined that 83% of the time, the kiss revealed all.

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Before I could understand why I bond more easily with men, I first had to examine male and female friendships. Nothing explains it better than this Friends the difference between men and women television clip. After seeing it, I realized despite being the first among my close high school girlfriends to lose her virginity, I hardly said anything about it. The conversation went something like this:

Girlfriends: Did it hurt?
Me: Yes.
Girlfriends: How much?
Me: A lot!

Despite our tight lips about certain subjects, I was very close to those girlfriends, but after high school, I moved to Los Angeles to attend USC, where I suddenly found myself surrounded by men. I remember thinking what Harry said to Sally about how men and women could never be friends because the sex always gets in the way. Most of the guys I met wanted to date me, and I went out with many of them. Some of those doomed romances developed into friendships, but they were not the same as my few female friendships.

Harry is right; the sexual tension never completely goes away. Even if you are not that attracted to the person, having a friend of the opposite sex brings another element to the relationship. I like having male friends (MFs, not to be confused with MILFs) because:

1. They are good for my ego. For example, one MF always greets me with “Helllooo gorgeous!”  When I admitted this truth to a different MF, he said, “That is very masculine of you.” I like the harmless flirtation because it’s safe and comfortable.
2. Men are completely honest. If I’m being irrational, illogical, or a general pain in the ass, they tell me. The candor goes both ways. I can be normal blunt self with my MFs, but I cannot be so honest with most women.
3. MFs are rarely jealous, judgmental, vindictive, gossipy, or mean, and they don’t compete with you. I didn’t even realize that some of my (now former) female friends competed with me until the men in my life pointed it out. When I think about competition, I imagine winning a board game, not beating my girlfriends at life.

When I asked my MFs about this issue, here is what they said:

• You don’t have girlfriends because girls in general don’t value loyalty. Men have friends for life; women have friends for months.
• You are entirely too blunt, too honest, and you speak your mind.
• You are like a having a guy friend, “low-maintenance.”
• We were always friends; we just didn’t talk. (A MF’s comment after a nine-year hiatus in our friendship due to a fight—guess that loyalty thing is true.)

Oscar Wilde once said, “Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.” I beg to differ. Maybe I have more MFs now because I grew up climbing trees, jumping off roofs, and begging the boys to let me play ball. Then again, I played with Barbies and took ballet lessons. However, I still remember the constant teasing and bullying in junior high; being verbally abused by my female peers hurt my self-esteem for years.

Positive female friendships are rewarding, yet complicated; they require more time, energy, and effort. Maybe I just don’t want to work that hard anymore. My MFs love me for who I am, and for that—I love you, man.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. I honestly love women, but as for finding my BFF, I don’t discriminate; gender doesn’t matter.

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When I asked this question on Facebook, most people responded with the same answers although not necessarily in the same order: spouse, parent, children, and/or another family member. If their children were not old enough to own a cell phone, then they had their children’s school in their Fave Five. One person replied, “No one” because he uses his Bluetooth to voice dial his contacts.

A concept created by T-Mobile (see the Wade/Barkley Fave Five commercials), Fave Five allows unlimited calling to your five favorite people even if they are on another network or only use a landline. However, the term “Fave Five” also implies the top five people in your speed dial—your favorite people. What I found most interesting is that not one adult listed any friends in their Fave Five, which makes me wonder if I’m just odd.

Here’s my Fave Five:

1. Voicemail — I’m sure there is a way to undo this default function, but I haven’t bothered to figure it out yet.
2. Corey — My husband is second only to the voicemail. I’m like most people—my spouse takes top priority.
3. Dad — My dad earned this spot after I realized how often I call him and after a friendship with a girlfriend ended. I realize now that he should have been #3 all along.
4. Tony — The only person I know who can talk longer on the phone than I can, and certainly the only man who likes to talk on the phone as much as a woman does!
5. T.J. — My best gay guy pal who doesn’t necessarily like to talk on the phone, but I feel good knowing he’s in my Fave Five.

If my sister Adrienne was still alive, she would have the #2 spot (she was in my life long before my husband), and if I had children they would need a place, too. There is nothing wrong with putting family before friends, but sometimes, I don’t think adults (especially after we become parents) remember that friendships are important to our mental health.

Obviously, your Fave Five doesn’t reflect the full scope of the relationships in your life, but it does say a lot about who is most important to you. If you can’t add a friend to your “Fave Five” at least include one in your speed dial; the numbers 6, 7, 8, and 9 are awfully lonely.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. Check out this Saturday Night Live Fave Five spoof!

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