Twitter treachery

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2021

Dear Annie: I knew my husband had a Twitter account, and I thought he only followed groups. Then, one morning, I looked at his account and saw that he was following around 75 people. They included two women. I saw that he had been tweeting at one of those women between six and eight times a day for several weeks. He said it’s not a big deal because they’re random people.

Some of the memes were of rabbits on hump day. He also never mentions that he has a wife, but he did mention that it took him a month to paint his room. He did not mention that I was there, too.

He managed to tell them what he did for a living and how he spends his weekends. He shared lots of personal stuff. In 24 years, this man never bothered with friends and never wanted people around.

While this was happening, I thought everything was great. We even had a romantic getaway planned. I feel different now. I really lost it, but I really love him. Am I making a big deal out of this? -- Mountain out of a Mobile (Phone)

Dear Mountain: Your feelings are your feelings, and if you feel betrayed by his Twitter account, then you feel betrayed. The fact that he shut you out while tweeting with other women, pretending to them as if you do not exist, is something the two of you must discuss.

Your husband may think he is protecting you and that you don’t want to be on social media. As for his reasoning for leaving you out -- while he embraces other women electronically -- you will never know why until you have a dialogue with him. Once you talk to him and sort through any misunderstandings -- with a marriage therapist, if necessary -- go on your trip and focus on the love you feel.

Dear Annie: Your advice to “Feeling Left Out,” the woman who was feeling excluded by two friends who were widows and had invited another widow to go to dinner, was spot on. I became a widow last Christmas morning, and I’d like to add a perspective from a widow’s point of view. I want to address your reader and any others who find themselves feeling excluded by widows who are close.

Your friends are not trying to exclude you, but they belong to a club that thankfully you haven’t joined. As a widow, you don’t have to worry about taking a long lunch or dinner date with your friends, because there’s no one waiting for you at home. You don’t have to coordinate your plans around your spouse’s, and you’re pretty much free to come and go as you wish.

Please don’t confront them because you’ll only come across as petulant. Trust me when I tell you that they wish they still had someone waiting for them at home. Including another widow is not about you; they recognize that someone they know has experienced the same pain and loss as they have, and they know what kind of loneliness that woman feels.

Continue being the friend that they’ve come to know and love, and be thankful that you’re not a member in the widows club. -- A Widow

Dear A Widow: I am so very sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your experience and explaining the deep connection you feel to other widows. Your shared experience, grief and sadness creates a bond that is unique to your new situation and a source of support for your loss.

Dear Annie: I am a 76-year-old woman who is still not over her teenage friendship troubles.

I should preface this entry by stating that I am by no means stuck in the past. This instance simply comes to mind whenever I face shortcomings in life.

I’ll now set the scene: It was early September of 1962. I had just turned 17, and I was a senior in an all-girls Catholic high school. I was a particularly gifted student with mostly As and the occasional B-plus in history or arithmetic. My parents had a strong sense of pride in my work and thus had very high standards for my test scores.

My literature class proved to be much harder than I had expected, and at the very first test of the year, I flunked. I mean, I totally bombed it. I didn’t want my parents to be upset with me, so I lied to them and said that I had gotten an A-minus.

My best friend at the time, “Lisa,” who was also in this particular class, had gotten a very high score and, to put it nicely, she was not quiet about it. Later on that same week, my parents invited Lisa over for supper. As expected, she was boasting about her score. My parents had mentioned that I had also done well, to which Lisa answered, “What are you talking about? She practically bombed that test.”

My parents found out the truth, and

I was grounded until the end of the year. Not only that, I had lost trust in Lisa, although it was not her fault. I did not blame her.

About three months later was the big winter formal, where my school and the brother school down the road would gather for the dance. I, of course, was still grounded, but by a crazy turn of events, my angel of a mother decided to let me go. I hadn’t told anybody I was going -- not even Lisa.

When I got to the dance, I was horrified. It was a blast up until I overheard Lisa telling my classmates that I was a liar and a troublemaker. I did not speak to Lisa again after that.

I graduated high school and became a secretary at the front desk of a local office and moved on with life, but every time I experienced hardship, this instance would replay in my mind.

I feel that I am being held back by teenage drama. I feel that I have long moved past Lisa, but the feeling of betrayal I feel will never leave. -- Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

Dear Pants on Fire: Despite what you say, it seems to me that a part of you is stuck in the past and continuing to harbor resentment toward Lisa. Sixty years, countless life experiences and surely many friendships later, this incident and Lisa’s betrayal still hold power over you today.

Instead of replaying it in your mind or trying to work through it on your own, seek professional counseling. The help of an experienced therapist could be just what you need to finally free yourself from this recurring nightmare and make peace with your past.

You connect this instance to your “shortcomings,” but do remember, a teenage fib to your parents and a failed test hardly define the person you grew up to become.

“Ask Me Anything: A Year of Advice From Dear Annie” is out now! Annie Lane’s debut book -- featuring favorite columns on love, friendship, family and etiquette -- is available as a paperback and e-book. Visit http://www.creatorspublishing.com for more information.

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