I spent a week staring at the draft of this email, unable to coherently write it because every time it made me cry.
I am sorry I made you feel so bad about our friendship. In my best recollection, the night of your birthday party went really well – we had fun at the restaurant, and then playing boardgames and I thought everyone had a great time, including you. I was definitely not drunk (purpusefully keeping the consumption in check because I do know how I can become) and made a point to not do anything Anna-ish, or attention-hogging, as it was indeed your night. All I wanted was to be there for you. And I actually left the next morning feeling that the whole thing has gone down famously, and you were happy. Shows what I know. Whatever I did that had upset you, on that day and apparently at several previous instances, I am sorry. I really mean it. You are my friend, and I love you and never want[ed] to be the cause of any matter of distress for you, on whatever occasion, past, present or future.
If you need a sabbatical from us, I respect that.
And this response made me feel like a terrible person. I made her cry. For a week. And it made me feel like a bitch. Because that email was actually pretty angry and hurt, and well, bitchy, I guess. Of course, the cynical part of me wants to say, “She’s full of shit and she knew exactly what she was doing…and if she really doesn’t realize it, that’s the even bigger problem,” and the compassionate side (no I am not pure evil) says, “Oh wow, I’m a horrible person for making someone so upset.” I also wonder if she’s trying to make it about her again…since she is all “I, I, I, I” again. Halp.