They say, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” but it pisses me off. Did you ever have a friend or family member who copied everything you did or wore? I get that a lot. I had a clothing designer friend who would wear everything I wore. I’d be wearing something different and original when we’d go out. Next time I saw her, she’d be wearing the same thing. It became a private joke after a while.
Ok. That’s clothing. But listen to this story.
I really worked hard to get myself out of the rat-infested hole-in-the-wall walk up on the way upper, Upper East Side of Manhattan, I was living in. I saved my money for years in a mutual fund account so that one day, I could own my own apartment. (Well, if prince charming didn’t save me first.) We all know how that turns out. I won’t go into it right now. All you need to know is he didn’t show, so now I’m purchasing a place. Alone.
I mean, I worked my butt off to find something good. I researched for a couple of years, and I pounded the pavement for at least six months. Saw some really scary, shitty places. I finally found a fabulous one-bedroom coop, with an elevator and a doorman. Exactly what I was looking for.
I have a cousin, Yenti, who is something of an opportunist. She’s two years older than me. As children, she would always treat me like she was so much older than me, which I always found annoying. As adults, she sort of kept that up. She was the type that would steal your boyfriend or use you. She’d use people to do whatever; get into a club, get into school, get a job. But of course, she’d never admit it. But she was my cousin and I loved her.
Oh yeah, Yenti is single.
I must have seen her at some family event. As usual, we were catching up. I mentioned my new Manhattan apartment. (She lived with her mother, in New Jersey.) Ok, so maybe I was bragging a little. But I deserved it. I worked hard for it and was proud. She asked me what street it was on. I must have told her. No big deal. Everyone was sharing, ‘What are you doing? What are YOU doing, etc.’
Several months later, my aunt, Yenti’s mom passed away. At the funeral Yenti asked about my apartment. She told me she really like the block and the building. She’d done a drive by to check it out.
Huh?
Do people really do that if they are not stalkers? It freaked my sister, Hadassah and me out a little.
Years passed.
My back goes out of whack again. I’m home from work. In bed, to rest it a few days prior to my nephews wedding that was to take place that weekend.
I’m home in bad. The front desk buzzes me. I hobble over to answer. (That will teach me to ever answer!) “Hi Blue Shoes Manhattan (BSM). Your cousin is here. Do you want to talk to her?” the doorman says.
“What??”
“Hi BSM! It’s Yenti!! A funny thing just happened. I’m in the city looking for apartments, and I just happened to be looking in yours. What a coincidence! Can I come up and see you?”
“Huh? … Yeah…. Sure. .. Great. … Can’t wait.”
I thought, “Shit!”
I said, “Sure. Come on up.”
So, of course I’m in my pajamas and I’m hunched over. Yenti’s all glammed to the max. Hair, full make up, heels.
“Oh, BSM! You’re so cutie cute cutsie!! How are you? Does your backy wacky hurt you? Poor thing. So, show me around your apartment. A friend of mind and I are thinking of sharing a studio in this building. What are the odds it would be yours”?
“Yeah. What are the odds”? I groaned. But I was thinking, “Fuck you bitch!”
“What? What are you in college or something? Why are you sharing an apartment with a married friend? Anyway, you don’t want to live here. It’s roach and rat-infested.” Well I had to say something!! I really didn’t want cousin Yenti living downstairs from me. I had to think quick. I felt like crap. My back hurt. I just wanted her out of there. She wasn’t getting the hint.
She left.
As I limped back to bed, I glanced in the mirror. I was white as a ghost, I smelled, and my hair was standing straight up into the air about three feet.
Ugh! Why me God!!
I called Hadassah, immediately. She was like, “What the …? You have to do something!”
So I decided to contact her sister Tovah, and tell her how I felt. And to try and talk Yenti out of this. I sent her an email. She didn’t write back.
The rehearsal dinner was two days later. Yenti was there. I gave it to her straight. “You know, I’m really uncomfortable about you moving into my building.”
“Really, why?”
“I’m there, doing my thing on my own. You could have asked how I felt about it before you did anything.”
“Really?? Oh, the thought never crossed my mind. No hard feelings, right?”
“Yeah, right.” I fucking hate her!
It was too little too late. I think she already left a deposit.
Myself and my whole immediate family were pissed. Even the bride. That’s my girl!
We barely gave Yenti the time of day at the wedding.
Fast forward a few months. I get a voice mail. From Yenti. She leaves me this elaborate message happily announcing that she’ll be attending her closing soon and do I have any pointers.
I didn’t return her call.
All I know is,
I gotta move.
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