Used to Being Used

If you’re in the mood to read something light and perky, this probably isn’t the post for you today. Maybe Google “smiling puppies” or “I just got laid,” but don’t keep on reading.

Why? Because I’ve got a bone to pick. Or, let’s put it this way: a lot of my friends want to pick this very same bone, but I’m going to do it on behalf of all of us because, well, no bone really deserves the invasion of that many digging fingernails.

I think I always had this idealized version of social life floating around in my head-- that by the time we graduated high school we would be over our petty gossip stage, that past middle school we would stop backstabbing each other. And, you know what? I thought we’d stop using each other-- especially using the people we consider our friends-- because I thought that by now we’d be mature and socially aware enough to know that people would catch on to our behaviors.

I was wrong. Very wrong. So wrong that I should probably be embarrassed to admit that I thought people would get past this stage.

How could I have thought that people would actually grow up and start treating each other well? Did I really think that people would treat me as I wished to be treated, and that people would consistently have genuine intentions when interacting with me?

As I’m writing I’m realizing that you might have no idea what I’m alluding to. In a quick and simple explanation, here it goes: people use each other. For all things. During good times and bad, during childhood, adulthood and even old age. It’s a sick fact of life, but it’s definitely a true one.

“Friends” have ulterior motives in their interactions all the time. “Uh, hey, could you translate this into French for me? I mean, I know we haven’t spoken in months, but you’re good at French and I’m not...” or “I know I’ve failed to include you in any social activities recently, but like, my car broke down, and I really need a ride to the shop... if you could please help me out this one time...”

A personal favorite was when someone I knew tried to get in touch with an old friend. Why did he want to befriend her again? To use her dad for his business connections, of course. Obviously neither the girl or her father would have caught on. Because no one has ever tried to benefit from her father’s good fortune ever before. No one has ever tried to benefit from a super wealthy man ever ever ever before. Who would think of doing such a thing?!

Or, recently, a girlfriend was complaining about how annoyed she was with a guy friend, J, because he had asked her to do a favor for him past midnight during the middle of the week. She explained that she did out of empathy, that she considered what it would be like to be in his shoes-- locked out of the house with a broken car-- and without anyone to help out.

So, J. had the guts to let her phone ring when she could have easily been sleeping, but did he ever even say thank you? No. He didn’t as much as utter a word of gratitude.

Now, I personally would have been forever indebted to her if she drove me across town in the middle of the night. Apparently, though, the rest of the world doesn’t think that way. It’s OK to only come crawling back to someone when you need them, rather than enjoy their company in both the good and the bad.

The kicker, though-- at least to me-- is that J. really has no idea that my friend knows he used her. He’s probably going on with his daily routine, driving down some Yellow Brick Road in that car that she helped him get fixed. My friend, though, is simmering at work over the fact that she actually considered J. a friend, all the while he made it clear that they’re only friends when it’s convenient for him.

What really gets me, though, is just that-- the people who use us are too socially incompetent to know that we know. (Does that remind anyone else of that Friends episode “Does she know we know she knows!?”) It becomes abundantly clear when someone is just asking me for a teeny favor because they need my help and not because they’d ever reciprocate.

Don’t invite me to your bridal shower (and not the wedding!) just for the gift, and don’t ask me to cover your shift at work just so you can hang out with that cute boy you just met. Just don’t. And, if you do, try to make it a little less obvious, k?

Before you ask me-- or anyone with any social awareness at all-- to edit your cover letter because I’m such a good writer (enough with the flattery, it doesn’t work) or to help you move when you have no intention of helping me (we all know I’m not a big, strong girl) realize this: we’re on to you. We know what you’re doing.

Maybe you’ll get away with it on occasion, but deep down, we’re aware of your intentions. Some people will fall for your stunts, and, hey, I applaud you for being that sly that you can get away with such actions. But anyone with an ounce of self dignity and awareness won’t. The beauty in the situation is that the more you do it, the more likely the naive souls you’re taking advantage of will realize what you’re doing. And that, my friends, allows me to end this post with some optimism and, yes, a real smile-- the goofy kind, like of the class clown who just caused the class to burst into laughter. Because, hey, wouldn’t it really be funny if all the people being used caught on and stopped allowing themselves to be used?