There’s been an awful lot of women in my life. Nearly all of them were pleasant, informative, and entertaining, but not permanent. They weren’t all great, though; in sixty years, five women have had to admit they never cared for me and were only hanging out with me because I was helping with their bills or other problems. If you exclude the years before puberty, that’s more than one a decade, which is a pretty terrible record.
Four of them made it very clear they thought this was entirely my fault. The world treated white men better than everybody else. I was taking advantage of that and using it to meet girls.
I couldn’t argue that the world didn’t unfairly give white men more power and control than anybody else. I even wrote one of them a long letter explaining that I didn’t think it was fair that my life was so much easier than hers, and that was the only reason I maintained any connection with her. Still, our relationship made me very unhappy, and I would soon seek a way to end it.
She called my father and said I was threatening suicide. I’ve been around too many suicides ever to take that topic lightly. I explained to my father that “finding a way to end” a relationship isn’t nearly the same thing as “finding a way to end” my own life.
I don’t think I ever used my meager social and economic advantage to meet girls, either. I knew guys who did that and had a low opinion of it. I don’t think I ever had to do anything to meet girls. There were always just a lot of them around. There still are.
Thinking it would make me a better salesman and manager, my father had me read “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” by Dale Carnegie. In it, Carnegie says to ask people questions about their lives to make them think you are interested in them.
When I met somebody new, whether they were an Office Supply customer or a potential girlfriend, I would ask them questions about their lives and jobs to make it seem like I was interested in them. Sometimes, I wasn’t really interested in customers, but with girls, I usually genuinely was interested in their lives.
Sometimes, asking people about their lives leads to answers like, “My car broke down, and I can’t afford to fix it.” “I got fired, and now nobody wants to hire me.” That’s usually where I got caught. For most girls, if I said, “Gee, that sucks. I’m sorry.” That’d be enough for them. For some reason, I kept running into people for whom that wasn’t enough. That’s when they started talking me into getting involved.
I volunteer at the drop of a hat. It’s in my nature. Nearly once or twice was usually more than anyone ever needed my aid, but every so often, I’d run into somebody who figured that was the solution to their problem, and that’s where I’d get into trouble.
I reached the point where I gave up trying to get these people to see my point of view. As long as they let me out and did not hold me accountable for any commitment I made to them, I’d be satisfied. I‘m sure they did their best to make people think I was a womanizer, but I didn’t even care about that. I just wanted out.
One of the five had been my good friend before anything else happened. We had massive arguments about what the relationship was doing to me and what was wrong. Eventually, she admitted that she never particularly had feelings for me, but she stayed in the relationship because I was helping her. She admitted she lied when she said she loved and wanted to be with me. She also tried to blame her behavior on some pills she was taking. I have no idea if that’s possible with pills, but I accepted her explanation as long as I got out.
I asked her to sign a promissory note to cover the loans I’d given her. She agreed, so long as it meant no more arguments. That was almost the end of it. She separated herself from the others by promising to pay it all back, but it was over. There was no happy ending.
Six months later, she did something the others still haven’t done. She called to say she was sorry. She said she regretted what she did to me. It wasn’t fair, and I deserved better. She didn’t even ask for forgiveness. She just said she felt like she needed to say that. I could tell she was crying.
The difference between a lady and everyone else is that a lady will admit when she did wrong, and she’ll put the feelings of others ahead of her own, even if it takes her a while to do it, even if it’s painful to do it.
Our relationship, even our friendship, was still over, but after that day, I began praying for her. She was still pretty miserable in life, and it never got that much better, but forever after that, I was on her side, and I was praying she’d find the peace I couldn’t bring her.
Caring about others can get you in trouble. It always got me in trouble. I can’t promise that caring about your impact on other people will make you happy, but I can promise that it will make you more Christian.
I don’t think you ever owe somebody an apology. If you did them wrong, they already know. Admitting that you know you did them wrong isn’t a debt; it’s a way to improve yourself.
When I pray now, I pray my old friend finds the peace she never found in life. For me, she will always be a lady.