Friend or Foe: My Purse is Not an ATM

Welcome to "Friend or Foe," a regular Double X advice column for your queries about the trickiest of all love affairs: friendships. Lucinda Rosenfeld, author of I'm So Happy for You [2], a just-published novel about best friends, is now taking questions at lucinda@imsohappyforyou.com [3].

Dear Friend or Foe,

A close friend of mine—I’ll call her Andrea—borrowed $50 from me last month to cover dinner and a taxi and promised to pay me back. I’ve seen her at least twice since that night, and she hasn’t once mentioned owing me money! I don’t know if she’s conveniently forgotten, or just plain old forgotten. But it’s pretty clear to me that if I don’t raise the subject, I’m never going to see my moolah again. What’s stopping me from bringing it up? I guess I’m worried that, by asking her, I’ll look really petty and make the friendship awkward. For the record, neither of us is rolling in dough at the moment. I manage a book store/cafe (you can imagine the salary), and Andrea recently lost her job in advertising. Though I understand that she got a pretty decent severance package ... The other part of the story that’s annoying me is that, when Andrea asked me to spot her, we were in a restaurant directly across the street from a corner grocery with a big sign in the window that said, “ATM machine.” I’m honestly starting to think that she borrowed money without any intention of ever paying me back!

Sincerely,
Am I Being a Total Cheap-o or Do I Have the Right to Reclaim My Hard Earned Cash?

Dear AIBATCODIHTRTRMHEC,

In Pudd’nhead Wilson [4], Mark Twain wrote, “The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.” But, really, the only people who should ever borrow money from each other are immediate family members, and even then: Beware. The average Jane would almost rather you slept with her boyfriend than raided her bank account. (My husband is an economist, so I happen to know the fancy word to describe the particular terror of watching the boldface number on one’s Fidelity annual statement plummet: “loss aversion.”)

That said, let’s agree that, in the big picture, 50 bucks, whether in the plus or minus category, is not going to make a big difference to your life. Please note that we’re talking about one pair of Dr. Scholl's / case of Red Bull / standing room ticket to the Lion King here. Unless you’re a complete skinflint, I suspect what’s really bothering you is not the actual dough but Andrea’s failure to allude to its dispensation. At this point, however, it’s your failure to raise the issue with your friend—since it’s bothering you so much—that strikes Friend or Foe as both odd and even a little on the passive aggressive side. Is it not possible that Andrea, who likely has a lot on her mind right now (i.e. finding a new job), has genuinely forgotten?

If you can’t get out the words, “Hey, can I have my 50 bucks back?”—words which are perfectly justified on your part—I suggest playing the recession card. Open with, a “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you about this, but I’m completely broke right now and could really use back that ...” I guarantee you’ll feel better afterward. And maybe next time Andrea leans on a friend, she’ll remember it’s a loan, not a winning lottery ticket.

Sincerely,
Friend or Foe

Dear Friend or Foe,

I’m a sociable person and have as many friends now, in my “Lipstick Jungle [5]” years, as I did when I was younger. But I hardly ever see most of them. Most are married and living in biggish apartments, while I’m unmarried and still have my cramped post-collegiate lair. When a friend asks my boyfriend and me to dinner, we have a great time. But later I feel horrible because I can’t reciprocate. My apartment layout doesn’t work for dinner parties. At the same time, my friends with kids can almost never spare the time to go to the late-night parties I go to, much less to have dinner out (which is not only inconvenient but expensive, when you factor in babysitter plus dinner plus taxis). And brunches are the opposite of relaxing when you’re wrangling toddlers. If I accept my friends’ invitations, knowing I can’t reciprocate, does that make me a jerk? Is it enough to urge them to have dinner out with us? Or is that obnoxious, considering they just put themselves out, shopping and cooking for us? What if we were to treat at a restaurant? Would that fix it? And/or, as an adult, do I simply have to move apartments and find one with a dining room, if only to hold my head up in this town?

Sincerely,
Worried That My Lack of a Dining Room is Ruining My Social Life

Dear WTMLOADRIRMSL,

There are many reasons to move apartments, but concern that your friends will be insulted if you don’t start inviting them to sit-down dinners is, if you don’t mind me saying, a fairly outlandish one. This “friend,” for one, is just as happy to be invited to a cocktail hour involving fold-up tables and bowls of peanuts as a dinner party involving three courses and a solid oak monastery table at which one inevitably gets seated next to a joke-telling cardiologist.

Are you sure you’re not just looking for the motivation/courage to finally say adieu to your shoe (box)? I have no idea of your financial situation. But even if you make no more than you did 10 years ago, perhaps you could seek out a bigger place in a less desirable nabe. You also allude to having a boyfriend situation. I know as little about that as I do about your balance sheets, but maybe you’re at the stage where moving in together seems like the logical next step. Surely, if resources were pooled, you’d be in a better position to upgrade your living situ. And you wouldn’t be the first gal to fall further in love in the interest of real estate.

Meanwhile, your anxiety about offending your “landed gentry-ish” friends seems to me to be a separate issue. Why don’t you leave the stress over babysitting expenses and toddler wrangling to them and instead worry about wrangling yourself a comfy chair from which to begin perusing Craigslist “no fee apt” ads?

Sincerely,
Friend or Foe

Dear Friend or Foe,

I am 37 years old and single. Recently one of my closest friends got married, moved to Connecticut, and had her first child. I understood that our relationship would change and that we would probably be in touch less often, but I didn’t foresee being completely blown off. We spent countless evenings of our singles days together, sipping drinks, lamenting our sorry romantic states, and having lots of laughs. When she got married I was totally there for her through her shower, wedding, etc. When she had her first child I was there again, rooting her on and purchasing all requisite gifts. I would think that sharing in these celebrations means that you are a cherished friend, but apparently not. I understand we have less in common now, but we had a long friendship. And I feel that, even though we're now in different states of life, there are still things we could enjoy together. When she first moved, she'd take weeks to return my occasional phone calls. The last time I called her I didn't hear back at all. Then, about a month later, she wrote to tell me that she was "pregnant again and [couldn't] talk." Having never been pregnant, I have no idea what kind of strain the condition puts on one’s vocal chords. So I asked my mother, who had five children. She told me she gabbed through every gestation. Should I express my outrage at being let go, or just let the friendship end?

Sincerely,
Childless and Chafed

Dear CAC,

I’m going to tread lightly while answering this. My response to a similar, if less detailed, question a few weeks ago from the pregnant friend’s point of view [6] resulted in a series of furious takedowns of Friend or Foe in the Comments section. In that case, the “bad friend” was the non-pregnant one, and I received a lashing for assuming that her negligence necessarily had to do with jealousy.

So. Your new mom friend has brushed you off like so many toast crumbs on a kitchen counter. You’ve attended all the requisite bachelorette spa days, bought the requisite onesies and finger puppets, and tried to keep in phone touch. Plus, you provide no evidence of a dramatic and terrible back story that might have catapulted Mrs. Connecticut past the point of sociability (i.e. child born brain damaged, husband dying of cancer; house just burnt down, etc.). If this is all true, I have to say I’m with your mother here: Babies do not equal broken vocal cords.

Sure, the little ones are exhausting, especially when they pop up during the night to say hi. Pregnancy can be exhausting too. But lying on a sofa with your feet up while baby naps is really not that debilitating. Which is to say, Mrs. Connecticut has not acted like a close friend. I’d sever all ties. If she finally returns your call, you’ll get your point across loud and clear by not returning hers. If she tries again, she’d better have a good excuse (and a letter from her doctor).

Sincerely,
Friend or Foe