The Easy-Out

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic
My first experience with an "easy-out" ended in disaster. Why? Not one person in my group of girl "friends" understood exactly how an easy-out work. Let me explain.

Submitted: July 25, 2013

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Submitted: July 25, 2013

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Explanation of an Easy Out

 

I first heard of the term ‘easy-out clause’ in one of my favorite movies. Drive Me Crazy, a 90’s chick flick with Adriane Grenier and Melissa Joan Hart, depicts the classic forbidden love story with a high-school-bad kid and the straight-A cheerleader. The two teens pretend to date, but feelings develop and they fall in love. (I never saw that coming!) But when Grenier’s character kisses another girl, Hart’s character labels it “the easy- out clause.” The relationship was over. No need for explanations or conversations. It ended.

I used my first ‘easy-out clause’ this past year with my old group of girl friends (I use that term ‘friends’ very loosely.) But while I assumed that the girls understood how an easy out works, I unfortunately made an ass out of myself. So here’s the unnecessary explanation for those of you who haven’t seen Drive Me Crazy.

Something happens when a group of girls first become friends. It happens with every new relationship. The honeymoon period is a time of excitement and happiness and a feeling of, “Oh m gee! We were all just MEANT to be best friends forever!” Just as I suspected, our new group of girls enjoyed a great honeymoon period. Since I lived with two of them, I also enjoyed this honeymoon period with my new roommates. We talked about boys and work and school and diets and going out. All was well in girl world. But just as the new husband and wife return from the sunshine beaches of the Bahamas to the depressing reality of work and house payments and moving trucks, so too did our honeymoon end.

Suddenly, the roommates wanted to talk about how crazy Cindy* was for sleeping with a drug dealer. And Suzy* wanted to tell me the embarrassing story of drunken Anna* begging the guy she was banging to date her. The guy had said to her, “Baby, let’s don’t worry about that.” All of these behind-the-girl’s-back stories ended with, “Don’t tell her I told you!”

The ending of the honeymoon period carried over into our home. One of the roommates told me how manipulative the other one was to her co-workers and friends. One roommate explained the other’s slutty behavior with, “Well you know how broken and crazy her family is. Guys are her only stability….Don’t tell her I told you.” The cherry-on-top was when one of the girls said, “Well you know she met her boyfriend on Match.com! Haha! Don’t tell her I told you.”

As the beautiful, sweet-colored veil fell, I saw the depressing reality. And I realized that if I was hearing all of these remarks about the other girls, then surely, the other girls were hearing remarks about me. I didn’t like the feeling. I wanted out.

Luckily, right then, I met a boy. And my girl world was replaced with sweet kisses and long talks and that feeling of, “Oh m gee, I am just MEANT to be with him.” (The honeymoon period with that wonderful boy ended, and I saw that my reality with him was continuously beautiful.)

I jumped head first into lovey-dovey world and out of uncomfortable girl world. But I had to pay a price. The girls berated me with, “You are so LAME, now.” And, “You really need to do more stuff with us. All you do is hang out with your boyfriend.” A small part of me felt that they could be right. Would I regret missing out on girl time? But then I remembered how “girl time” went, and I thought that I’d rather leave the gossiping to them, while I enjoyed the sunshine beaches of falling in love.

I couldn’t ignore girl world completely, however. Suzy came to me with the news. The girls had, of course, been talking about my new boyfriend. They didn’t like him. (And for the most superficial reasons I had ever heard.) But Suzy’s attempt at comforting me was even more odd. She said to me, “I told them, he may be good for you, you know, for now.” What? For now? But later he would be bad for me? Thanks for the opinions I didn’t ask for. Thanks for the support, really. It was so great to have friends who were happy I was happy.

I was done. Over it. I spent more and more time away from the roommates, and away from the other girls. And I was truly happy. Turned out that the boyfriend had really awesome friends. We had a blast.

But then, I messed up. In the midst of a texting battle-of-the-century with my roommates, I blew up. I was so TIRED of the passive-aggressiveness. I was so TIRED of the whispers and judgments. I was so TIRED of constantly hearing gossip about the other girls. So I did what any 14-year old girl would do (I’m 25) I called them names. Really hurtful, ugly names. I felt sick. I felt mean. I felt disappointed in myself. I apologized. I moved out.

And after I finally forgave myself for my bitchy-ness, I realized that I now had an easy out. I didn’t have to do anything else with the girl group. I had easily taken myself out, and they had easily given me up. It was done. No need for explanations or conversations.

Months later, I ran into one of my roommates. I had been wrong about the easy out. It didn’t work like that, she said. The girl group had decided that I must be crazy because I had not tried to make a mends. I had simply called them names and walked away. I couldn’t face what I had done. I was insane, they said.

No, no, no, I thought. That was an easy out! My apology was the only thing I needed to do, and then I was free! I was free from the toxic environment. Why had they not let me go? Why had they continued to think about me? I hadn’t thought about them at all.

They didn’t understand. I didn’t understand them. I tried to explain, “But I didn’t want to be friends with you anymore. (Oh man, I sounded like a bitch.) What can I say? I’m sorry. I, uh, I didn’t like you…I mean, I wanted to move on. It wasn’t the right fit for me…” I apologized. I left. Why didn’t the easy out work?  I couldn’t get an answer.

In the end, the girl group had settled on the ideas that I was obviously insane, that I couldn’t face what I had done, and that I was eternally The Crazy Bitch.

I had forgiven myself for calling them names (it took a while.) I had messed up. But, it was okay that I used the easy out. It was okay that I took myself out of an uncomfortable environment. I didn’t have to explain myself for not wanting to spend time with someone. I had the right to leave. I had the right to surround myself with good people I loved. In the end, though, the real lesson is this: An ‘easy-out clause’ only works when the person you’re leaving understand the simplicity of the easy out.


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