Guilty by Association

Guilty by association.  Those were the words my friend Caitlin told me yesterday afternoon while sipping Guinness and watching the Seahawks roll over the Giants.  I didn’t feel the same level of sadness that I felt when I first heard a similar reasoning.  That reasoning came from a married couple.

In July 2012, I stepped foot into The Recovery Room – it was my birthday and there was trivia.  I had learned of Tuesday night trivia at the local watering hole by way of the girl who I was no longer seeing.  Along with me was my co-worker and friend, George.  We were too late to participate in the action, but we soaked up the scene and down a few beers.  We liked what we saw and decided to come back the following Tuesday.  It became a weekly tradition – and it was fun.  We were meeting (and defeating) our opponents and it felt like we were developing a nice rapport with them.  There was one girl in particular I found myself talking with more as the weeks went by and her name was Caitlin.  Originally from Connecticut and a James Madison alum, Caitlin and I had a lot in common – and she was quite easy on the eyes.  But I was spoken for and Caitlin was no longer interested in women.

There were Caitlin’s teammates – a married couple, Lizzy and Steve.  My interactions with them were limited to me busting their chops about not getting the right answers to certain questions.  I thought this was being interpreted as playful jest; but it wasn’t.  As the weeks turned into months, unbeknownst to me, they kept vocalizing their dislike for my co-worker and teammate and myself.  Caitlin defended me immediately, saying I was a good person and I wasn’t like George.  She fought for me tooth and nail; but it was with little success.  It would take professional heartbreak for them to understand me in the true light that Caitlin had been telling them about for months.  

It might have been earlier than that, but Lizzie and Steve would tell me how much they disliked George and didn’t like how crass (understatement of the century) he was, how he seemed to bring me down socially, how they wished I would spend time with them without George.  I started to do this now and then, but ultimately it came down to financials.  Being on unemployment and without a glimmer of hope in the job world, I knew the last thing I needed to be doing was frequenting a bar with friends on an almost nightly basis.  While I wanted to be social, I knew my mental state was weak and I wouldn’t be able to shut myself off from another beer, and another.  I became a hermit.

I still spent time with George, as much as it was hurting me – I could feel this negativity come over me as the two of us sat at the bar together.  What would start off as a simple get together, would turn into hours of consumption.  George has never had the most positive outlook in all the years that I’ve known him; and when he drinks, it gets even worse.  Some nights were worse than others.  I have always tried to ignore this, because I wanted to be social and have fun – but it felt as if these get-togethers were becoming more of a chore than pleasure.  It was also hard listening to him tell work related stories.  I was released in June 2013 after six years of working with the Corporation; it was a painful experience, however, it did come as a relief.  I knew my future did not belong in live television production; but I wasn’t too sure of how I would get to do what I wanted to pursue.  I knew there was a lot of feature style programming at the 24-7 version of the Network and I began to speak with people about that after I learned I would be leaving in two months.  

The most puzzling aspect to this day (though now I am at ease), is the fact there was PLENTY of work in my area of interest – why not just shift me over to that department, or recommend me to 60 Minutes Sports?  I saw other people being shifted to the 24-7 network and would later learn of others having this happen – so why not me?  

I’ve drastically pulled back from spending time with George – but my schedule was also fairly hectic for a good clip of time in the Fall.  But now that I am back to a schedule of normalcy, I feel like the last person I want to be spending time with is George.  While I want to be social, I don’t want to be seen with him.  It sounds so awful to say, but when I step back and think about what he has done for me as a friend, I really can’t think of much.  Yes, he’s been there for me through countless break-ups, but most of his words are cruel and never seem to truly understand what my true pain is.  I want to do trivia with him at his new stomping grounds, but I don’t want to be seen with him if Caitlin should come in – and she does go there quite often.  Caitlin can tolerate George, but I have come to the realization, I don’t necessarily see myself wanting to be connected with him all that much longer.

Strangely enough the guilt I feel when I write these words, is strong.  I don’t know why I can’t just bring myself to spend time with him.  I guess I’m an all or nothing person.  A black or white – when deep down I know everything is grey.  I feel sorry for George – but I don’t.  Most of his pain he brings on himself and don’t even get me started on his social media presence on Twitter.  The amount of anger, hate for self – that comes out is unnerving and sad.  It baffles me that with all these comments, he has not been called into Human Resources – or been forced to seek counseling.  How does someone like that keep a job, especially if his co-workers are making fun of him for his actions behind his back.  I’ve never really understood it.

Perhaps if I spend time with Caitlin at the stomping grounds and George just happens to be there, then that’s how it will play out; or perhaps the times I consider going with him, I am assured that Caitlin will be there; or perhaps I need to be stronger in walking away after I’ve had a few and I see him changing.  When I hear the aggression come out, that’s when I take my cue.  I exit stage left and get the good night’s sleep I deserve.  I want to be associated with people who love to see me and not feel a sense of dread as soon as I walk through the doors.