(two carpenters and a poet, but never your husband)
i am the first to admit it: i’m a bad, bad “girl”.
by that, i mean i’m bad at being female. women confound me so much sometimes that i even feel sorry for men. *gasp*
having so many "boys as girlfriends" only makes it so much harder to understand, too.
as a case in point, my closest male friend was, some 2 years ago, in possession of a girlfriend who was obsessed with not only him, but also with me.
i do not mean in romantic-novel type way obsessed, either.
we are not talking perfumed love letters and muffled midnight phone calls here, folks.
the woman turned into a raving psycho at the mere mention of my name. the fact that i was a person with control of my vagina apparently never occurred to her ...
... she seemed to think that it would somehow escape on it’s own and climb up his trouser leg, or something.
she said so herself. to him. she said “of course i trust you. but these things can happen”.
can they ? ...
... if you honestly don’t want them to, do they just happen anyway ?
no. they don’t. as you and i know. but try telling her that.
(he did. once. after which she relayed her suspicions to him that my entire life existed solely as a cover-up for my torrid affair with him. enough said)
my friend at this point insisted that i continue to contact his home as though “nothing was amiss”, under the assumption that she would “calm down”.
i did.
and she did not.
she instead chose to celebrate “catching” him on the telephone to me by hurling the contents of the room at his head.
i admit to exercising my self-preservation (i.e.: cowardly) instinct at this point and running away from the situation. i am so brave 
.
and my friend regrets to this day that he let me do it. but he cared for her. and i was making her unhappy. and, rational or not, facts are facts.
she was an insecure, spoiled little girl.
i know i probably should have done her a favour by taking her and her small-minded views on. but i just plain didn’t care enough.
somebody judged me. wrongly. unfairly. i didn't fight. why bother ?. i don’t need the points and i can’t spare the time.
funny thing is, when i walked away from my friendship and hurt myself instead of her, it made her happy. she didn’t realize it was a gift to him and not a victory for her.
but he did.
... um, what was her name again, my friend ? 