Andy, you’re going to die alone.

What. A. Dick. Head.

Seriously, go and read that. I’ll wait. *drums fingers on table*

Are you done? Good.

I’m going to tell you precisely why the borderline (borderline?) psychopath who wrote that piece is going to die alone, and if anyone comes to their funeral it will be because there are free drinks.

Andy taks about “Amy”, dubs her an “Afrendix” (an unnecessary part of one’s social circle), and boasts of adopting a “scorched earth policy” towards ditching her, which made her cry. Andy doesn’t feel bad about that. He was just being honest. He probably hopes she’s reading his article and recognising herself, when he refers to her as being like a dose of crabs. Amy is better off knowing the truth about how boring and crappy she is as a person. Amy will benefit from this. Amy will grow. She might even toughen up! This will be good for Amy!

I hope he has at least had the decency to invent a name for her, though frankly I doubt it. Andy paints us a vivid picture of this hideous social pariah:

The one who sends you a Christmas card even though you haven’t returned the gesture for seven years. The one who invites you to parties again and again and again…even though you would rather feed your genitals to a horse than go to one of their thinly-populated house parties. The one who always calls you up when you’re eating dinner and who always leaves a message and who never gets the hint.

WHAT A BITCH. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m just about ready to stab Amy in the eye.

I bet she would have even made that special dessert you really love for you, at her crappy sparsely-populated party. It’s probably so sparsely populated because she makes deep and meaningful friendships and nurtures them, rather than measuring her social worth by how many twitter followers she can get, and how many of them are “cool”. Amy is so dumb, so lacking any sense of her own unimportance to you, so deficient in the basic social niceties of realising how much less of a person she is than you are, that I bet after you ditch her, she’s one of those people who will worry about whether you are quite well, because of how unacceptably inhumane your behaviour has just been.

Well, Andy, I’m going to tell you a thing or two about Amy, you tragic little cockwart.

She’s the one who would visit you in hospital when you get sick. And you will get sick. Sooner or later, you will get sick, or something will happen where you need some support. You’ll be lying there, completely desperate for someone, anyone to come to break the hellish monotony of hospital life by breezing in with the smell of the outside air on their coat and something that isn’t either beige or a dim memory of green, to eat. Amy is the one who would have brought you soup and done your hoovering when you were recovering. She’s the one who would have remembered your birthday and organised a celebration when you’re 65, after your wife left you 20 years ago for a human being, and your kids have moved away because you’re such an unfeeling, uncompromising dick. But hey, you ditched Amy and all the other Amies.

Your other friends – the ones who fit so painlessly into your life and whose parties are always rammed – the ones who don’t actually require anything of you: I can tell you now, they won’t turn up. They won’t call. I’m going to offer you a top tip, Andy, and all the men I know who are like Andy: friends require something of you. If you think they don’t, you’re either being the shittest friend in the world, or – and this is beautiful, because I suspect it applies in this case – you don’t have any.

You may not have that much in common with a good friend, but guess what? Friendship isn’t about being the lead singer against a backing choir. Friendship is about recognising when someone is a nice person, deep down, right in their core, and feeling the glow of knowing that they hold the same good opinion of you. It’s about being fully aware of the huge differences between you, and loving that person in part because their bizarro ways expand you and make you less of a self-referential ass. It’s about obtaining genuine pleasure from caring for someone’s wellbeing.

Friendship, ultimately, is about kindness. And here Amy has the massive advantage, because she has it in spades, while you, Andy, have none.

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About chiller

Rachel Coldbreath spent 20 years working internationally as a technical specialist on large data collections for law firms, before becoming disabled. She blogs on a variety of topics from the news and politics to gardening and how very annoying it is, being disabled. Habits include drilling holes about 1mm away from where they ought to be, and embarking with great enthusiasm on tasks for which she is neither physically nor intellectually equipped.
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5 Responses to Andy, you’re going to die alone.

  1. I’ll die alone too. But only because I think it’s best for my friends not to see me too much. I wouldn’t want to inflict that on them too much, it’s something nobody should have to tolerate for long, if at all.

    • chiller says:

      I think that’s a very sad way to feel. Don’t block out your friends, they’re one of the few things in life that light our way out of the dark. x

  2. fatpie42 says:

    In just his last article he claimed he was “humbled” by being bullied at school. It’s like, seriously Andy, that “humility” you claim they drummed into you? Either they needed to bully you even more or bullying seriously doesn’t have the positive effect you attribute to it, because you are not even REMOTELY humble from where we’re standing.

    Gah, what a horrible guy!

  3. Lilian says:

    “Friendship is about recognising when someone is a nice person, deep down, right in their core, and feeling the glow of knowing that they hold the same good opinion of you.” – Such a good description of friendship. Thank you for this post.

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