What is this, 1810?

Everyone has this friend.

That person you've been friends with for, like, 10+ years but you haven't got the faintest clue why you two are still friends? Yep, that one.

If you did ever have anything in common (did you? ever?) with her/him, the commonality faded long ago.  Their life is so completely foreign and different from your own, you might as well live in another galaxy.

It's what I like to call a "whiskey dick friendship."  It's awkward and annoying, and no longer fun or enjoyable, but it has a slight possibility of making a comeback.  Maybe.

(I could expound on that analogy for a while, but I won't.  But now you will. "Damn you, Nuke Girl, I do have whiskey dick friends!  What a fitting analogy! How did I never realize this before...?" Ha, ha.  Gotcha.)

Why I keep these friendships, I don't know.  I blame Facebook.  Facebook is the devil because it facilitates the maintenance of pseudo-relationships which are way past their expiration date and should've been allowed to spoil and rot away naturally a long time ago.

But I find myself in this situation.  It has reached the rotting stage.  I don't think this whiskey dick friendship will be making a comeback.

I have this friend whom we'll call A.  You know, like A for "Anonymous" (not really).  Anyways, she used to be a follower on my blog, and I used to follow hers.  Notice the past tense usage.  Used to.

Because when I went to check yesterday, her blog was, well...

But wait.  First a little background is needed.  I'll try to make it short and sweet.

I went to high school with A; she was two grades behind me but we were friends.  Don't remember why anymore, either.  She had a humongo crush on this guy named C.

C was that guy that liked to joke around a lot and draw attention to himself with humor, and you could never quite decide whether he really was hilarious or a complete douche canoe.  We went to a small high school with not much to offer in the Man Candy Department, and C was decent-looking (I'd give him a 6); so the fact that there were always several girls following him around drooling and giggling over him didn't do anything to reduce his swollen ego.

He thought pretty highly of himself.  He was that guy that was kind of an ass, but not really a big enough jerk to get on your nerves; and since he was usually nice and friendly to you, you basically just looked the other way at all the dick moves.

Anywhosit, A and C had this love/like/lust/forbidden/want you/don't want you thing going on for like two years straight.  Meaning, she wanted him all the time, he wanted her sometimes but not others, and I just remember it being all very complicated for some reason.  They finally started dating and stayed dating for a while... and a while... and a while... and then got married.

All the irritations I've experienced with her over the years can be summed up in a single statement:

He steamrolls her mentally and emotionally, and she lets him.

"Zee man is zee head offff za house!" (spoken like the dad in 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding')

He says, "Jump!" and she says, "How high, honey?  Like this?  What's that you say?  Wha... oh, you want me to cook you dinner while I'm jumping?  Sure thing, dear!"

He joined the Army about six months before I left for boot camp, and his parting joke to me was, "Alright now, take care of A for me while I'm gone.  And make sure she doesn't get fat, either."

Only I could tell it was the kind of joke that's not really a joke at all, and at that moment I finally decided with absolute certainty that he was not a Funny Guy, he was a Douche Canoe.  There are some things you should never joke about to a woman, or in front of a woman about your woman, and this is one of them.

So for all these years, she has been the good little supportive wifey; and he has done whatever the fuck he felt like doing.  Sometimes she dared to express her annoyance to me in private; but she would immediately defend him to the nth degree if I so much as suggested that perhaps he was being a teensy bit domineering.  All of their life choices have been his life choices, I guarantee it.

This enrages me.  Probably because I was in a relationship for 3 years where all my life choices were his life choices.  I knew I was being controlled by him, but I thought I loved him; and I was afraid to lose him, so I allowed him to control me.  It took me three long painful fucking years to realize that I had held the power all along.

Putting my foot down and walking away from that guy was the most painfully heart-breaking and yet overwhelmingly liberating thing that I have ever done.  So when I see the same thing going on in someone else's life, it kills me.  Time heals all things, it's true; but some things cannot be escaped without scars.  My emotional scars from that relationship are what guarantee that I will  never be that girl again.

Needless to say, nothing makes me go from zero to fucking irate faster than watching a woman being treated like property, or watching a woman allow herself to be treated like property.

I digress.  On to the straw that broke this camel's back.

I hadn't checked her blog out in a while so while perusing blogs this morning, I decided to see if she had anything new.  Much to my surprise, a nice little error page came up and informed me that "The blog you are looking for does not exist."

Mmmmmkay.  Interesting.  I wrote on her Wall on Facebook.  "Hey, I went to read your blog and it wasn't there?  What's up with that?"  Morbid curiosity.  I'm not actually all that interested in A's blog.  In fact, I could give a rat's ass what she writes in her blog or what's going on in her life, since it's quite bland.

This was the nice little e-mail I got back a couple hours later:

C was originally uncomfortable with the blog when I started, but he was getting more and more so..

After SERE training is when it really started and he was limiting me as to what I could write.  He was uncomfortable with pictures and goings on of his family posted on the internet.

I guess there have been some SF guys who actually got phone calls at their homes from “terrorists”

Not sure how true that is, but that’s the story they’re telling these guys.

C’s just being over-protective, but I can understand his point of view.

SO

No blog

Good Lord, she's so martyr-ish it makes me sick.  Also, I despise women who believe everything their man tells them and then vomit it back out to other people like a parrot. GRRRRRRRRRRR!!

C thinks he's a badass, and so of course she always talks about him as though he's a badass, because she's a fucking mindless parrot.  Keep in mind that he is not actually even SF (Special Forces, for my Brit peeps out there) but rather he is still in different training schools to eventually get selected for SF (he hopes).

Now not to brag, but I have a much higher security clearance than her fucking husband.  I know all the OPSEC rules.  I haven't violated any of them with my blog.  No terrorists have called my house, either.  I've never given away nuclear secrets on my blog.  Hell, if you go Google some shit you'll probably know more than me.

And if someone wants to hunt me down via my blog and torture me for my classified knowledge then let 'em try, because I've been on vacation for like a month and a half.  I don't remember shit about nuclear power, bitches.

I digress.

Can you believe this chick?  This is going too far.  First it was him ruining their finances with bad business investments.  Next was when A ~ who used to be Vice Prez of the 'No Babies Club' with me ~ went from zero to preggers in one week flat after she lost her job and claimed "C and I think it's a sign from God that we should start a family." (Don't get me started on that one.) But this?  This is too much.

When husbands start taking blogs away for no good reason (or no true or factual reason), it's time to reevaluate.

I mean, seriously??? Is she for real?  Is he for real?  I don't know which one of them pisses me off more.

"I'm sorry, Honey, but the blog has got to go.  Those pictures of the new cloth diapers you bought could be compromising.  And that post about how to make your own laundry soap?  It's just too dangerous and I can't trust you anymore to keep all my super duper Army secrets."

The best part is, the bitch just sent out an e-mail two days ago to her entire mailing list about how C is going to be gone for two weeks to (specific city and state) working at (specific name of hospital in that city and state) for training and to pray for her and the baby as they will be home alone for four weeks.

So the moral of this story is:  Apparently terrorists read blogs but not e-mails.

She just violated like four OPSEC rules, too.

What. The. Fuck. ♦