After two and a half months of not hearing from James Reeves, my best friend of eighteen years, I received an email from him in early December 2010, addressed to Kelly, my girlfriend, and me. While I was pleased to hear from him, it was nothing I expected, given its tone.
Right out of the gate, he was upset that I had the audacity to get my cellphone back up instead of sending him the money.
Huh? He knows I'm looking for work, yet he prefers that I give him priority repaying him over my getting a job? How is that fair to me?
This past August, he loaned us sixty dollars so I could ship some items I'd sold on a Yahoo! group, as well as for some expenses. I promised to repay him as soon as I could, but our living expenses had to be met first.
Never mind that our precarious situation put us in survival mode; in his eyes, "for all intents and purposes, we have stolen from" him.
"This is just the latest in a long string of broken promises you have made to me," he wrote. "This is also the last promise that you will break, because effective immediately, I am ending all contact with both of you, except on a strictly business level." To "tie up the loose ends," he discussed that issue and others which I will spare the reader.
If I read his letter correctly, Jim was willing to throw away eighteen years of friendship over a sixty-dollar debt. I never knew our friendship had a price tag.
I have decided to repay him the full sixty dollars as soon as I can, so he can make no claims of magnanimity. Once I do that, the ball will be in his court.
I wonder about the seemingly sudden change in his behavior. I know he's been taking several medications, and perhaps one or two have either brought about this change, or have made him susceptible to suggestions from someone else, such as his wife. (It's also no secret among us that Kelly is no favorite of Jim's wife, who could have written that letter.)
Kelly and I feel Jim's action dates back to October 2008, when she won $25,000 on a progressive penny slot machine, taking home $17,000 after taxes. Our mistake was sharing the good news with him, someone to whom Kelly owes several thousand dollars by his calculation. That money is irretrievably gone now, and he's bitter and jealous about it - especially since she made no effort to repay part of her debt to him.
Kelly also made an observation about Jim. He's fine when things are going well for him, i.e., he enjoys "financial superiority," but it's apparently unacceptable to him when someone he knows experiences good fortune, all else being equal.
I'm left asking this question: Now what do I do?
Supposing Jim realizes what he's done, and comes back to me, apology in hand, what am I supposed to say or do? Aside from his apology, which I'd graciously accept, what can I say? What is there to say? If Jim chooses to resume our friendship (a mighty big "if" at this point), and I agree, his action would irrevocably color it going forward. Moreover, I doubt I'd be able to forgive him. (Of course, this is purely speculative at this point, and that bridge will be crossed when/if I ever come to it.)
Jim and I met at a model railroad club in 1992. Our shared interest led to collaborations to enhance our model railroads' realism.
Now, assuming our friendship is indeed "dead and buried," I'm left wondering what I'm supposed to do with this legacy. Do I continue with it, as though nothing happened, or do I act as though our joint efforts never took place? Fully half of our endeavors have been left empty and wanting, through his severing our friendship.
I also wonder what I am to do with cars and engines he's given me over the years. For Christmas the year he moved from New Jersey to Florida, for example, he gave me a switcher painted in a proposed scheme for his model railroad. Under the premise of our friendship's being "done," what am I supposed to do with it? Do I sell it, repaint it, or leave it as-is? Similarly, what about the various cars he's given me, usually as gifts? Given they fit my era and locale, I'll keep them.
Right out of the gate, he was upset that I had the audacity to get my cellphone back up instead of sending him the money.
Huh? He knows I'm looking for work, yet he prefers that I give him priority repaying him over my getting a job? How is that fair to me?
This past August, he loaned us sixty dollars so I could ship some items I'd sold on a Yahoo! group, as well as for some expenses. I promised to repay him as soon as I could, but our living expenses had to be met first.
Never mind that our precarious situation put us in survival mode; in his eyes, "for all intents and purposes, we have stolen from" him.
"This is just the latest in a long string of broken promises you have made to me," he wrote. "This is also the last promise that you will break, because effective immediately, I am ending all contact with both of you, except on a strictly business level." To "tie up the loose ends," he discussed that issue and others which I will spare the reader.
If I read his letter correctly, Jim was willing to throw away eighteen years of friendship over a sixty-dollar debt. I never knew our friendship had a price tag.
I have decided to repay him the full sixty dollars as soon as I can, so he can make no claims of magnanimity. Once I do that, the ball will be in his court.
I wonder about the seemingly sudden change in his behavior. I know he's been taking several medications, and perhaps one or two have either brought about this change, or have made him susceptible to suggestions from someone else, such as his wife. (It's also no secret among us that Kelly is no favorite of Jim's wife, who could have written that letter.)
Kelly and I feel Jim's action dates back to October 2008, when she won $25,000 on a progressive penny slot machine, taking home $17,000 after taxes. Our mistake was sharing the good news with him, someone to whom Kelly owes several thousand dollars by his calculation. That money is irretrievably gone now, and he's bitter and jealous about it - especially since she made no effort to repay part of her debt to him.
Kelly also made an observation about Jim. He's fine when things are going well for him, i.e., he enjoys "financial superiority," but it's apparently unacceptable to him when someone he knows experiences good fortune, all else being equal.
I'm left asking this question: Now what do I do?
Supposing Jim realizes what he's done, and comes back to me, apology in hand, what am I supposed to say or do? Aside from his apology, which I'd graciously accept, what can I say? What is there to say? If Jim chooses to resume our friendship (a mighty big "if" at this point), and I agree, his action would irrevocably color it going forward. Moreover, I doubt I'd be able to forgive him. (Of course, this is purely speculative at this point, and that bridge will be crossed when/if I ever come to it.)
Jim and I met at a model railroad club in 1992. Our shared interest led to collaborations to enhance our model railroads' realism.
Now, assuming our friendship is indeed "dead and buried," I'm left wondering what I'm supposed to do with this legacy. Do I continue with it, as though nothing happened, or do I act as though our joint efforts never took place? Fully half of our endeavors have been left empty and wanting, through his severing our friendship.
I also wonder what I am to do with cars and engines he's given me over the years. For Christmas the year he moved from New Jersey to Florida, for example, he gave me a switcher painted in a proposed scheme for his model railroad. Under the premise of our friendship's being "done," what am I supposed to do with it? Do I sell it, repaint it, or leave it as-is? Similarly, what about the various cars he's given me, usually as gifts? Given they fit my era and locale, I'll keep them.
