Storms of a different kind

I headed back to London last weekend, for a now annual Thanksgiving meal, tirelessly prepared by an American friend. I hope he won't mind me talking about this on here. No names will be mentioned, and the couple of people who read this blog, who will know who I'm talking about, I know have the discretion and loyalty he deserves.

It was fun to see everyone, if a little overwhelming (hell, I'm now used to seeing an average of 3 people a week, including the postman). I brought chairs, plates and cutlery, another friend provided the flat we were eating in, another brought a selection of vegetable dishes, yet another had cooked stuffing and bought a case of champagne... you can see how this is all working.

So, the table(s) groaned under the weight of the food. I think there were 13 of us in total, a mix of old and new friends, neighbours, ex-neighbours, and ex-flatmates. The turkey met a round of applause. The chef raised a toast (and nearly made everyone cry) by thanking us for being there (surely we should have been thanking him). We sang a somewhat confused version of the Star Spangled Banner and then we feasted... We drank. We laughed. We reconnected (or at least I did). We had a spectacular afternoon and evening.

Until his girlfriend kicked off. I'm trying to explain this in terms that are not derogatory to anyone, but the whole thing now just makes me rather sad. For reasons known best to herself, she destroyed all the goodwill harboured by mostly everyone within hearing (if not striking) distance. Before being told in no uncertain terms to go home.

Now this may sound harsh, but it wasn't the first time this has happened. Last year, the very same meal, in the very same flat, followed a very similar form (although that year it was gravy that ended up all around our host's home, this year it was red wine). In fact, the kicking off has become a 'when' part of any social gathering, rather than an 'if' (neither of which should ever have to be a consideration - be it pub, party or dinner at someone's house). And none which is fair on our American friend.

The following day was filled with multiple apologetic emails and tearful phonecalls, full of self-loathing and self-hatred from the (now, ex) girlfriend. Unfortunately, it fell mostly on deaf ears as she had, so to speak, well and truly cooked her own goose. Most friends are just fed up with tolerating her behaviour. And why not? She is a major pain in the arse. Quite often.

But surely underneath this obnoxious (and it was) behaviour, lies something else? Why would someone bright, vivacious, intelligent and caring, keep destroying whatever relationships they have, which they claim matter to them more than anything else?

A couple of us (including myself) have kept communication lines open, in the hope (and with very clear requests) that she goes to see her GP. Whether she does or not is up to her. Whether she manages to salvage any of the now broken friendships is again up to her. Am I pissed off with her? Yes. Am I worried about her? Yes. Will I shrug in a couple of weeks and say 'Oh, it's OK, everyone will have forgotten by now'? No.

Let's face it, none of us is perfect. And sometimes it's not the mistakes we make that define us, but rather if (or how) we redeem ourselves that does.

But we are all responsible for our own selves, and our own behaviour.

Until then, all bets are off.