She doesn’t respond, which is strange for her.
A couple of days go by, and I still don’t hear from her.
I reach out to Natasja, who is a mutual friend, to see if Becky is okay.
She checks in with her on my behalf.
Natasja shares that Becky will be getting back to me soon.
When Becky’s message finally arrives, it hits like a sucker punch.
Becky:
Margaux, you’ve put me in a really difficult position.
Your partner is not welcome at the event.
I have a responsibility to keep my community, and my family, safe.
You’re welcome to come by yourself, but he cannot attend.
The words replay in my head, each one a sharp jab. She’s not just banning Timmy—she’s making a judgment about me by association.
Guilt and outrage and shame simultaneously gnaw at me.
Her words cut like an admonishment, and they make me feel small.
I’ve told her things in confidence about Timmy’s behavior. And now she’s using them against me and saying my partner can’t attend the function. The tickets are booked, his parents are expecting us, but the events were frankly the main reason I was going.
Hell, I was considering taking one of his parents along instead of him. I hadn’t firmly locked down my plus one, and she just assumed.
No conversation, just a cold DM from someone who I considered such a close friend that she’s almost family.
This is the same Becky who called me when I was in a vulnerable, isolated moment during Covid lockdown, who asked for me to be appointed to the board for one of her fitness groups—Becky has a lot of hobbies—and who once told me I was one of the strongest people she knew.
And now, just like that, I’m an outsider.
If she’s really that worried about my relationship with Timmy, why hasn’t she tried to check in on me, to call me or send an email, or even just a DM asking how I am?
This is justoff.
I wouldn’t bring Timmy if I thought he would act out. That’s partially why I had his parents mentally on standby. I’mconfident they would behave and enjoy meeting some of my friends, so if Timmy was having a bad day when the event took place I’d just leave him at home.
But now I feel shunned, ostracized, like yet another piece of my dwindling grounding foundation has been ripped away from me through no fault of my own.
The fault of loving Timmy, I suppose.
And yet another seed of resentment grows toward him. My relationship has officially become a further liability, a scarlet letter in my social circles.
Being able to attend these events is just another thing I can’t have in my life if I continue to be with him.
I tell Timmy, expecting an explosion, but he surprises me with a smirk, and pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry babe,” he says, his voice gentle. “She sounds like a bitch. She’s jealous of you. Fuck her. We’ll just go spend even more time with my parents, and it’s your former friend’s loss, honestly.”
His dismissal feels both reassuring and hollow.
I block Becky on social media, trying to push away the hurt, but the wound remains raw.
“You’re better off without her,” he adds, his voice softening. “People like that don’t really care about you. I’m the only one who does.” His words settle into me like a splinter—sharp, and too small to remove. I cling to them like they’re a lifeline.