Do you have a frenemy?

Do you have a frenemy?

She can stand next to you in a room with a giant smile, staring right into your eyes with love and understanding like no other.

Her name could be Joan or Candace or Betty — it really makes no difference at all. She laughs with you, cries with you, and is there for you — always. She is your true friend.

Right?

Um…wrong.

Gulp.

She’s a friend until you turn your pretty little head, and the minute you do —

Oh, boy.

She’s sharpening her nails, filing her claws — or even better, taking out her favorite meat cleaver to chop you, thwart you, malign you, or even bludgeon you into tiny little pieces to feed to the wolves.

Can anyone say butcher?

It’s seems hard to believe and certainly a pity because we never want to believe that “our” friends are really not “our” friends. Because the reality is that when someone talks behind your back, it’s really a bitter pill to digest that no amount of antacid can cure.

Women are always shocked when they come to find out that “they” were the topic of conversation amongst other women — and not because they were being complimented on their new shoes.

Is it the nature of the beast?

I really don’t know.

But what I do know is that lady bashing is a common practice amongst all walks of life, no matter the age, race, creed, educational background or socioeconomic status — it just happens all the time.

So you may ask yourself, what kind of lady is guilty of throwing her supposed friends under a Greyhound bus for shits and giggles?

Well, this kind of gal is a treacherous crossbreed.

Her name is “Frenemy,” and we all know her well.

She’s the perfect blend of friend and rival, whose motive is to compete with you or humiliate you.

Deep down, her motives are not pure or true, and they stem from her own jealousy, unhappiness or insecurity.

So you might ask, how do we know she’s disloyal?

Well, the answer is quite simple. We find out in the slightest of ways, most notably through the shameless, yet sadly accurate, grapevine.

It goes sorta like this:

Act 1, Scene 1
Frenemy tells a bestie something about you.

Act 1, Scene 2
Bestie tells their bestie that same piece of info.

Act 1, Scene 3
Their bestie tells your bestie what they heard.

Act 1, Scene 4
Your bestie, of course, tells YOU.

And then — voila, you’re in the KNOW.

Ouch, it hurts.

It’s the adult version of operator.

So when you see Frenemy, you sit there in her presence, never saying a word about what you know.

But you know, and you can’t let her know you know, and she has no idea you know.

But ya know.

For example, have you ever been walking in a park and suddenly see the cutest dog like in the entire world? You go out of your way to ask the owner, “Wow, what a cute dog, what is it?”

They respond with this breed that you’ve never even heard of; until now, that is.

“It’s a Maltepoo,” they say.

And you’re like, “A what?”

“Yeah, a Maltepoo. The breeders crossbred a Maltese with a poodle.”

Okay, great. First thing that comes to mind is weird science, but it’s all good because this thing is great and dandy, and it’s cute and harmless and darling and we love this crossbred doggie.

But the crossbred frenemy is anything but cute. I mean she may be cute on the outside, but inside that crossbreeding, strange mixture has made her dangerous.

I like to refer to her as a passive-aggressive saboteur, whose true goal is to see you fail or to somehow obtain what you have.

So before you entrust anyone with your deepest, darkest secrets and skeletons hidden in the armoire — make darn sure they have been properly checked.

Because in the end, never fear the enemy that attacks you…but the fake friend that hugs you.

Until next week,

Love,
Karin

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