What is an emotional vampire?
What do they want?
A healthy ego may never understand the root of their motives,
nor the delusions they feed themselves to justify their inner turmoil and how that affects their relationships.
—
We’re witnessing the descent of a woman who needs to break her best friend down—
Not because her friend is wrong, but because she is unmoldable.
She represents everything our narrator can’t be.
—
This is a fictional satire on the POV of such an individual.
This is part one of the series “How To Keep A Bestie.”
Welcome to Lucy’s world.
—
The Birthday Girl
Thursday, September 28th 2023
Today is Cherie’s birthday.
“Hey Lucy, so…I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work. I don’t really feel like celebrating today.”
“Yeah, no worries! Take care of yourself!”
Cute. She thinks I believe her. I know she secretly wants to see me. And I leave for a work trip soon—I won’t be around for weeks.
—
Ding ding ding. I ring the bell, arms full of presents, flowers, and balloons. I curated everything in her favorite autumn palette: golds, browns, reds, and oranges. It’s stunning.
I know she’s going to love everything!
She answers the door looking… tired. Confused. And not thrilled. Odd. She leads me upstairs—her place is small, not very impressive. Weird she never invited me before, but finally, I get to see it. I should be able to come to your place and hang out…
Why isn’t she happy to see me?
—
“Where were you earlier?” I ask, watching her eyes.
She’s nervous. She’s dishonest. I knew it.
“Just a quick beauty appointment.”
“Aha! That explains it. I tracked your live location for hours so I could surprise you! I kept seeing you go up and down, left and right! I was thinking ‘What is this girl upto?!’”
—
“Open your gifts!”
She unwraps everything—cute stuff, body lotions, the pastry. Then the main gift: a luxury lipstick collection.
Her eyebrows jump to the ceiling. She’s not just surprised—she’s mind-blown!
Got her. I grin.
“You shouldn’t have, Lucy! Thank you!”
“Of course I should have! Do you really think I’d just leave for a month and not make up for it? I wouldn’t ever go without seeing you on your birthday!” I say and then add “These are the colors you like, right?”
“They’re kinda dark and matte. I don’t really wear these, but… they’re pretty!”
“They’re the colors you like, right?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
What a bummer. I know what looks good on her. I thought she’d appreciate the effort.
She offers me cake. I decline.
“I have errands. I’ll be going.”
—
I forgive you, Cherie. You lack social grace.
I’m the emotionally mature one, the caretaker, the mom friend. How is that my fault?
You’re lucky I’m in your life. I will fix you.
—
Back To Reality
Friday, November 2nd 2023
I’m back from the work trip. It was intense—and one of my colleagues is insane.
We were teamed up for a project. She explained the steps she takes to complete projects on time and with minimal losses. She did most of the structure and strategy, as she is a senior—I contributed too, obviously.
While she was in the bathroom, the manager asked me about our concept, and I explained it all perfectly. She came back, misheard me, and accused me of taking credit.
I shrugged. It’s not my job to give her credit. If she wants recognition, she can talk to the manager herself.
Everyone says she’s difficult. Honestly, she probably can’t pivot, so she lashes out. Not my problem.
—
Saturday, November 3rd 2023
“…So yeah, I decided not to be nice to her. She’s problematic.”
Cherie pulls a, “Hmm”—she agrees.
“Oh! Funny thing: I’ve been assigned to pick up customer calls, which I keep dodging because I’m bombared with questions I have no answers to! When I must pick up—I ask ChatGPT for answers.”
“You what?”
“Work is hard,” I say. Meh. She’s such a buzzkill.
“Life is hard. You’re an adult now. How will you grow your skills, if you’re actively doing everything not to learn things properly? How are you so confident that ChatGPT provides the proper information? That seems reckless!”
She launches into another one of her lectures. How will I learn? What if I give wrong info? Yawn.
I roll my eyes and sip my tar-black coffee.
What does she know anyway? I hate her tone. I hate when she speaks to me as if she’s SO much better.
God, Cherie really thinks she’s Jesus with a law degree.
—
At lunch, she chews too loudly.
“What the hell?” I am disgusted.
“What?” Cherie says, confused.
“Why do you chew like that? What are you? A horse?!” I am overridden by my absolute shock, frustration, and secondhand embarrassment, and if I wasn’t so poised, I would have probably grabbed Cherie by the jaw and made her spit out her food and start again.
“Like what? I chewed normally! What are you even talking about?” She gets defensive—but what’s new?
“Nothing. Just looking out for your social image.” I say softly.
She asks why I’m even here if I’m so embarrassed.
“I don’t want you to be judged in public,” I say, sipping my Aperol Spritz like the sophisticated queen I am. I hope she stops yapping because…damn.
—
I’m eating my cheesecake and watch Cherie closely.
I’m reminded that she didn’t even serve cake on her birthday. I put so much effort into all of that. So ungrateful One more example of her inability to be an elegant woman.
“My mother taught me social standards,” I say slowly and watch Cherie crumble in her little seat.
“Well, mine taught me the basics. I make people feel welcome, even if I don’t know the rules.”
I scoff.
“When a guest brings pastry, you serve them a piece. Whether they want it or not. That’s etiquette.”
Food for thought, Cherie.
Food. For. Thought.
—
“So, tell me, what’s been stressing you out?”
Cherie shifts uncomfortably. Her face hardens.
Oh, how I wonder what’s going on in her head.
“Cherie? What is it?” I take her hand gently, and lean in—I’m just a breath away from her face. Her gaze softens.
“Eh, I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s not a happy topic.”
Oh, but you will talk about it. I am your friend, and I deserve to know everything. I don’t want to hear about your little interests in books, or science, or whatever. I want the juicy stuff.
“Tell me.” I whisper. “I am your friend.”
She finally spills the beans. I ask for ALL the details. I want to know.
Blah blah blah—
Sob story. Some pet died. She’s sad. Boo-hoo.
She’s crying. In public. How embarrassing. Why does it kinda make me feel good?
—
Why can’t she be as composed as me?
Texting the group chat “Emergency: Cherie is crying again lol!”
—
The Day The World Stopped
Wednesday, December 20th 2023
“Hey, I have been calling like crazy but you’re not picking up the phone!
Please text me when you see this, I’m worried!
Love, Cherie.”
—
Today, the world as I knew it ceased to exist. It’s not kind to ignore Cherie, but… I found out that my grandmother passed away last night, and I can’t make it to the funeral.
My mother has always been hypercritical of me, and my father is naturally very introverted—keeps to himself most of the time.
Grandma has been the only stable presence in my life, someone with whom I could talk, laugh, and spend time knowing I wouldn’t be judged or humiliated for simply being myself.
Ever since my younger brother came into the picture, I’ve had to fight for attention and love. I hate that. I think any kid would hate that. It’s just so unfair!
But my grandmother never made me feel that way.
—
Hours have passed since I received the call that my grandma died. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.
I feel this pit of darkness—this unbearably painful void inside of me—and this death has only widened it.
Crying in public or around people isn’t my thing. In my family, crying means you’re weak, sensitive, naive even.
So I don’t cry. I never cry.
I really want to cry and break down… but I just can’t.
I don’t know why—
Am I broken?
—
Why can she cry so freely?
She laughs so hard she cries. She feels everything so deeply.
How is it possible that after a l l she has been through, she still moves to the beat of the music and makes time for curiosity and play?
She’s so free and so naive.
I don’t want to be like her—but I wonder what it’s like to be her…
—
I fear I am left with no one…
No one but Cherie.
I need to make sure she’ll stay in my life for the rest of time.
—
Thursday, January 10th 2023
It’s been three weeks since Grandma died.
I still haven’t cried. I don’t think grieving must necessarily include tears, but… I am afraid that my suspicions about my own blockages are being confirmed by my own body again.
I’ve been going to work like nothing’s wrong. And I’ve seen Cherie a couple of times too. She encouraged me to share my feelings if I felt the need to—or to cry.
Sitting in silence next to her is enough for me, though. She has a very gentle, serene, and comforting aura—something that drew me in from the very beginning.
But I don’t really want to talk about Grandma. Her loss hurts too much.
—
I remember my childhood—not vividly, but I do have a few memories I keep dear.
My parents—as any—worked a lot to provide for me and my siblings. I didn’t like that. I especially did not like the arrival of my siblings either, because that meant my parents had even less time for me—but I had to live with that.
Anyhow, I used to go to Grandma’s after school.
The moment the school bell rang—I was dust! I biked like my life depended on it, flung into her foreyard with the horsepower of a tiny Porsche, abandoned my bike on the grass like I wouldn’t ever need it again, and before I even got to knock on the door, she had already opened it and greeted me.
She was a tall, sweet old lady with a soft smile and charming eyes.
She had endured major life setbacks in her youth—Grandpa died when she was barely 25 years old. They had five kids together, and the youngest was a newborn of 45 days when Grandfather was tragically killed in a work accident.
This would turn any woman bitter and mean, but she never was. She was kind, warm, understanding, forgiving—and still made of steel.
Actually, Cherie reminds me of my grandmother a bit.
They liked each other too, and Cherie even cries over her death as if this was her grandmother too. Cherie cries a lot anyway.
Where everything else kinda sucked—school, home, whiny little gremlins with full diapers and boogers clinging to the tip of their noses for dear life, flaky friends, and teenage crushes that never led to anything but “L & B (or C, T, D, K, etc.) = LOVE”…
Grandma was my safe haven.
—
Friday, January 19th 2023
Spa weekend—finally!
Cherie’s rented a car for a few days. She picked me up just ten minutes ago and off we go! Woo!
“Put on some music, will ya?” Cherie is driving.
I pull up my immaculate Spotify playlist. Let’s put on something to lift the mood!
Old Money by Lana Del Rey starts playing. Hell yeah!
“What is this?” Cherie gives me a stink face.
“Lana!” I say and she’s shaking her head.
“Can you…play something less, you know, depressing? I would like to make it to the Hotel in one piece.”
“I know exactly what you need!”
Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking starts playing.
Cherie sighs but says nothing at all…
Fine. Whatever. Can’t buy taste, can ya?
—
Later that day.
“Why the hell do you allow them to treat you that way?!”
“I am not! I am outnumbered. I’m doing the best…They twist everything I do and say!”
Cherie is being bullied at work—way worse than I was. Her manager is in on it. She doesn’t deserve it.
“Stop being so damn nice and show them why you were banned from ever going back to Jiu Jitsu class!”
This slipped my mouth, but it lightened the mood. Cherie laughs so hard she cries. She always does this, it’s fascinating. I’m laughing too because, let’s be real—I am a part-time stand-up comedian.
“No seriously, treat them how they treat you! Actually no—treat them even worse!” I shout in passion. Genuinely losing my mind over this!
Her coworkers? A bunch of losers, capital L! If I ever see them again, it’s on sight.
“Lucy, it’s not that simple. I need to be strategic or I’ll get eaten alive.”
“Okay, and so you’re just going to let them do you like trash?”
“No, I won’t. They won’t know what hit them. Just wait and see.”
I love that about Cherie. She’s silly—but intelligent and sharp asf. I wouldn’t want her as an enemy.
—
Saturday, January 20th 2023
Woke up to the Swiss Alps. Glorious.
Breakfast in an hour.
Plenty of time to do hair and makeup—essentials don’t take vacation.
—
“I kinda want to go skinny dipping! Everyone else is doing it!” I say as I draw on my eyeliner.
Cherie showed up just five minutes ago. She’s “ready”—as in not wearing pyjamas, I guess. What a headache!
“Go for it!” she says in an encouraging tone of voice while booking our sauna slot for later.
“What about you? Won’t you join me?”
She pulls a sour look and squints her eyes. “I truly don’t mind it, but I personally don’t feel comfortable being naked around people. It’s just my preference.”
“Oh come on, Cherie! Don’t be such a wuss! Nobody here knows us anyway. So who cares!” I overdraw my lips and then carefully pat my matte lipstick on them, before I blow a kiss to my reflection in the mirror.
—
We enter the sauna, and I decided to go fully commando since that’s what all the seniors are doing. Cherie insists on wearing her bikini and wrapping her lower half with an extra towel.
“Why don’t you let yourself enjoy this properly? Let loose, Cherie!”
“I am enjoying this.”
“Yeah, like a nun.”
“No, like a woman on a spa trip.”
“Can I see your boobs?” I look at Cherie and smirk.
“Ew, no.”
“Oh come on! Why don’t you want me to see them?”
“Lucy, be honest. Are you?”
“No, I’m not! We’re friends. This is normal.”
“No, it’s fucking not!” She shouts in disbelief and gets up.
I grab her towel to stop her from leaving. She snatches it out of my hand.
“Hey, you can’t leave me here by myself!”
“Sure can do! Listen, I’m calling it a night. I’m tired.”
Cherie storms off visibly upset.
I can’t believe she just got up and left me there by myself like a loser!
All because I asked her a normal question?
Talk about an overreaction.
—
I didn’t see her for the rest of the evening. Next morning we drove back home in silence, which unsettled me. She’s trying to punish me for being her friend. She really has a way to ruin every occasion.
—
Seriously, no one understands how hard it is to be friends with someone like Cherie. She’s consistently weird, defensive, and refuses connection. The worst part is her constant monologuing on her little “issues,” like her work problems or family problems.
—
Friday, February 15th 2023
“Hey, we haven’t seen one another in over two weeks! Are you okay?”
I send my text and wait patiently for a reply. I usually see Cherie at least once a week—unless we’re busy or off traveling for work, which happens.
I feel a stiffness in my shoulders and neck area. And I’ve been biting my nails off these past few days…
Is she pulling away?
I’m worried.
—
My phone pings. She texted back.
“Hey, yes I’m good. I’ve been really busy and honestly also deeply exhausted due to work lately.”
—
Wednesday, March 8th 2024
I fucking swear—if Cherie brings up another political discussion and how sad and unfair the world is…I’m going to disown her as my friend until she apologizes. She obsessively reads, researches, and keeps up with “ethical” problems, and they even affect her to the point where she brings negativity with her and brings MY mood down.
Honestly, I know I can’t change the world, so why even try? Why worry about what some kids in Congo go through when I could just…focus on the here and now? Cherie is a Buddhist—I’m pretty sure one of their main teachings focuses on living in the now.
—
I am a big people pleaser. It’s important for me to focus on self-care and things that bring me joy—like food, wine, clothes, makeup, and some lighthearted gossip. These are the things that enrich my reality, and I only have one life.
—
Recently, we had a conversation with Cherie about death and the afterlife and again about how unfair (boo-hoo) the world is.
If I didn’t know her better, I’d buy it.
“I’m not so much afraid of dying but…I want to die first,” she said. She looked so sad too. If I didn’t know her better, I’d buy it. Then she added, “…like before the people I love. Losing friends, parents, my pets…that often keeps me up at night.”
I wanted to yawn, but I didn’t.
“I’m afraid of dying,” I said and shrugged lightly, then continued, “I can’t imagine the world just existing without…me. I don’t like that thought, and I don’t want it to. I want to live long.”
Truth may hurt, but it sets you free. Right?
—
This girl’s biggest fear is being alone—at least that’s what I’ve gathered through the endless crying sessions and the consistent sharing of her little problems.
When Cherie first opened up to me about her past, I flat out told her that she should be grateful and that other people have it worse. And what did Cherie do? She walked straight into that. She felt shame, first of all. And then, perfectly on time, she started spilling the beans on her past traumas, the people she knows, where she’s lived, and her ex-relationships. Throughout our friendship, I have witnessed the corrosion of her family dynamics as well. It’s kinda fun to watch. I always have the hottest gossip for the group chat!
I know she wouldn’t mind either—the girl is a pathetic attention seeker.
—
“Can we have the check?” I say to the waiter.
He comes back with the receipt.
“I’m paying,” I say, and Cherie tries to argue with me, but I won’t have it.
“Did you enjoy your stay?” the waiter says and looks at Cherie only.
HUH? Excuse you?
Cherie blushes. She says, “We sure did!”
Keep your composure, Lucy—
Keep. your. composure.
“We are NEVER coming back here,” I say to Cherie as we’re walking to the central station.
“Why?” she asks, confused.
“I don’t like this place. It’s fucking lame.”
“I thought you liked this place?!”
“What is there to like?! The ambience or the embarrassing desperation of the waiter?!”
—
Writer’s Note:
No exaggeration, I was terrified while writing this POV.
If you read the whole story—I am grateful and impressed.
—
Stay tuned for part three!
AI Generated
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are entirely imagined and exist within a fictional world created for satirical and literary purposes.
