M is for Mareta

From time to time I mention several people that I know in my personal life.  However, I only do so when it involves a particular story that has sprung to mind.  I try not to do so too often, because I know you don't know them, and this blog is about me, not them.  If I spent all of my time talking about other people's lives, you should just skip the middle man and read their blogs directly.  You don't need full biographies of everyone I know.  Recently several of my friends have complained that I haven't mentioned them.  I told them to suck it up.

Today I had a marvelous post about meatloaf, and was ready to share a few of my favorite, original recipes.  I love meatloaf.  Last night my roommate was having a birthday party and my BFF Mareta was there.  She asked me what I had planned for today.  I told her meatloaf.  I was pretty excited.  She looked at me with her pouty eyes and said "But... M is for Mareta."  I long ago developed an immunity to her pouty eyes as a self preservation mechanism, so I firmly informed her that today M was for Meatloaf.

You can see how that worked out.

I was 11 years old when I met her.  It took me two more years to get her to talk to me.  We've been best friends ever since.

I've been talking a lot lately about how important things are to me, and that I wouldn't be the same blah, blah, blah... I'm tired of all this emotion and gratitude.  A person can only take so much.  So you know what?  You want a post about you?  This is what you get.

Mareta is the most stubborn person I've ever known in my life.  She's like a belligerent mule.  Trying to change her mind is as useless as ears on a woman*.  I just have to write the solution down on a piece of paper, date it, put it in an envelope, and wait.  When she finally resolves the issue I can open the envelope, show her that I came up with that answer a year and a half ago, and she'll always say the same thing. "I know you were right, you always are, but I had to come to that conclusion myself."

She has zero human empathy.  The fact is that I believe she is an extremely high functioning sociopath.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  In fact, no one ever notices, and very few people believe me when I tell them.  That charisma?  Learned response.  She does not understand your human emotions, but has learned what responses are expected of her in a given circumstance.

I don't think that she has ever weighed more than 110lbs/50kg, and she eats nothing but cookies and potatoes.  Yeah, I kinda hate her, too.

She is more of a man than I will ever be.  She can work a forge.  An effin' forge. She bends iron to her will.  She makes her husband to the cooking.  I feel for him sometimes.  He's got a bit of a romantic soul, and she's a very Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am, sorta lady.

She has this look that clearly states: Whatever it is that you just did was not only the stupidest thing she has ever encountered, but also that she isn't at all surprised that it came from you.

She talks about people in her life that you've never heard of like you're supposed to know who they are.

There is no one else on this Earth that has caused me as much confusion, frustration, anger, and pain as this woman.

But I guess she has some positive traits, too.  Like she occasionally makes me feel tough by perching on my shoulder.

 

Nobody's perfect.  What do you dislike about your best friend?


*It's not like they listen, anyway.