Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

Broken Friendships and a Book Review of My Other Ex

I don’t think I’ve ever been especially good at making friends. I don’t remember much about forming friendships at young ages, but I do remember painfully, shyly, and eagerly learning that in order to start one, I needed to say hello. I had one true friend before the age of six, and today, I can’t picture more than her long, dark hair, and her kindness.

Her name was Janelle, she was from London, and had an accent and a jewelry box that I admired. I can still smell her house. The morning that I went to say goodbye before she moved away, we sat on her bedroom floor, drew blood from our fingers using a safety pin, became blood sisters, and pledged to remain friends forever.

I don’t think that we ever spoke again.

Friendship is powerful. At age 6, 16, and 60.

In third grade, I was the new girl after my family’s move that summer. I said hello to the girl sitting next to me in homeroom, hoping to have somebody to sit next to while I ate my hopefully-not-embarrassing lunch in an unknown crowded cafeteria.

She said hello back, told me her name, and when I got home from school that day, I looked up her number, and called to ask if she wanted to play. I called her frequently, and she always said no, until the day that her mother made her say yes.

Eventually, we became loyal, secret-sharing best friends who wrote teary letters to one another when I went away to summer camp each year. Seventh grade and puberty happened, and I spent the night at her house, like I’d done so many times before. I spent many nights there, reveling in the fact that her parents had HBO and Rated R movies, until those nights became full of too much curiosity, me being uncomfortable, and unsure how to draw lines. This time, I was the one who said no, until she stopped calling and stopped saying hello to me when we passed one another in the school hallways.

Eighth grade brought new classrooms, hormones, and health class. It brought the sex ed teacher who freed me from imagined freakdom with an assurance that everybody checked out their butts in their bathroom mirrors. He talked about forming our identities, and about figuring out who we were and who we wanted to be.

He said that we chose what to wear as a way of letting others know who we were.

I passed a note to the girl sitting next to me saying “Great, I guess I’m the Little Tulip Girl now” because that day, I was wearing one of those ugly but beautiful-then 80’s Pappagallo sweaters. It had a ring of pink tulips around the neck.

She laughed, and we became inseparable. High school began, and we decorated our neighboring lockers almost identically, using plaid contact paper, alligators, mirrors, photos, and deep, meaningful quotes only gotten by 14-year-old girls.

She was there for me when I found out that the reason my mom was in the hospital wasn’t for “a needed rest,” but because of an affair with my brother’s hockey coach. She was there, discreetly giving me tampons when I was trying to construct homemade ones using toilet paper and dental floss, too embarrassed to ask my dad for the things I needed “down that aisle” while my brothers were watching.

I spent more time at her house than I did my own during high school. We went to concerts, studied together, tried out for the same sport teams, and spoke for hours, tethered to a curly-q phone cord, stretched tightly from the base in the hallway to our bedrooms, late into the night. We shared clothing, secrets, insecurities, and dreams.

Until we didn’t.

Maybe she’d always been cooler than I was. She was certainly a better athlete, and at her 16, I was still 15. She could drive. But I was allowed to date, and speak to boys on the phone without my mother listening to me awkwardly flirt from the kitchen extension the way that her mother did. For a while, maybe, we stayed mostly friends. I still spent more after-school afternoons at her house than I did my own.

I suppose that there were many words and moments that helped to break us and our friendship. The love and trust we’d once counted on had become buried between a realization at how different our home lives were. Her, learning from somebody else about the loss of my virginity, and me learning from somebody else that she’d laughed at me when I wasn’t even there to make it into a thing that was me, laughing at myself.

Maybe it broke fully the night that we’d both had too much to drink. I puked neon strawberry wine coolers onto her carpet while she had the luxury of getting sick on her more easily-cleaned pillow and sheets. I woke the next morning to an embarrassing pink carpet stain, and to her kicking me, while I tried to shield my cramping stomach and my pounding head from her blows.

I still think about her every now and again, and wonder at how, and who, she is today. I cannot say that I miss her, or her voice, or have any desire to reconnect with her. I can say though, that I’m grateful that we were there for each other, until we weren’t.

Ex Best Friends But I Do Not Miss You

Why am I telling you about broken friendships and so much of my past today?  You may remember me sharing a story in their first book (which is unpublished anywhere else), The Her Stories Project. I read my essay out loud, to my book club, and we cried.

Anyway, right now, I am honored to say that I’ve had the pleasure of being an early reader of Jessica and Stephanie’s newest anthology, My Other Ex.

I couldn’t put it down, you guys. I started reading it the morning that I got it, at first, a little sad that I’d not submitted a story of my own. I quickly forgot my own ego though, as I became utterly absorbed into each and every story.

I read it on the toilet. I read it while drying my hair, and I continued to read it strolling the aisles of Target while Tucker looked at toys. I read and I read, deep into the night. Stories set in childhood, in teenage years, in motherhood and beyond moved me in ways that I’d never have expected.

I fell asleep with the e-book open, my phone dying on my chest. The following morning, I filled a 90-minute car ride to an amusement park with Tucker by reading the words of My Other Ex. I cried, and I laughed, and I felt completely connected to each incredible writer. Some of them, I know, and am friends with. Others, I want to know and be friends with. Each one is talented, honest, and raw.

My Other Ex has haunted me, followed me, and made me remember moments from first and seventh and eleventh grade that I’d forgotten. It’s made me think about my own roles in friendship breakups, and the roles of one-time friends. It’s made me think about friendship in general, and the power behind the bonding of women.

Get your copy today. Just click here.

You won’t regret it, I promise.

My-Other-Ex-Cover


  • Kenya G. Johnson - Wow Kristi, you drew me in with your story as well. Love your write up/review. Anytime you read a book in Target, regardless of whether or not you are in the toy department – it is GOOD! I look forward to checking it out.September 15, 2014 – 9:53 amReplyCancel

  • Don - Look, I’m commenting here even though I had to type lots of letters in the three boxes just to get to this comment box. Hahaha, box. Anyway, you should have submitted a story for this book. I can’t believe you didn’t.

    Women are ridiculous creatures sometimes, so I may have to read this for the reminder. I’m married to one, so I can say that.

    Your review is most excellent, as were your recollections about past friends. I have several friends that I’ve lost touch with over the years who I think about from time to time as well. Not really people I want to reconnect with at this point, but people who did play some important role in my life at some point.

    The hockey coach?September 15, 2014 – 10:02 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Jeez, I guess I should send some beer your way, given your extreme effort for having to type D, tab, D, tab, h, tab. THANK YOU. You should make it a more frequent habit to comment here anyway, loser. I can’t believe I didn’t submit a story for it either. I’m also a loser. And yup. The hockey coach.September 16, 2014 – 1:53 amReplyCancel

  • Dana - It was really good, wasn’t it? It haunted me – I would start each essay hoping for the ending that I knew wouldn’t come. I don’t really miss the friend I wrote about either, but my heart aches for the writers who told of such painful losses.September 15, 2014 – 10:05 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Yeah, it was really really good. I know exactly what you mean about starting each one, hoping for an ending that never happened… and yeah, my heart aches, too.September 16, 2014 – 2:06 amReplyCancel

  • Emily - Great review Kristi – you’ve made me want to get this book, not just because you reviewed it so well (which would have been enough right there), but also because female friendships do mean a lot to me. And after this past year, I think I learned a lot about friendships. In most cases, I had people support and even surprise me by their love and caring, but there were a few who well, I’m not sure what to do about it or them. Bottom line was they let me down. Do I break up with them? Do I let it go? I’m just not sure and I think about it a lot. Time to get this book!September 15, 2014 – 10:51 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Emily,
      I am a little horrified at how horrible friends can be at times. I’m sorry that you’ve experienced that so much over the past year and honestly, it’s hard to even have an opinion on what you should do regarding the people who let you down over the past year. My gut reaction is to say “fuck ’em” and just let them go. But, also, I know how inadequate it can feel to not know what to do and then, because it feels too late or too small or too whatever, not do anything, ya know?
      To clarify, I don’t really have enough friends here to be able to say that I was here/there/HERE for any of them going through a hard time, because well, I don’t really have many friends here and, as far as I know, none have been going through anything like you have with LD. I’m pretty sure that I’d be the one remembering to order them extra take-out, offer to come over and help plant flowers or whatever small thing is being neglected that makes them feel like they’re struggling, but, well, I can’t prove that I would, if that makes sense. Ach. Ok this has the potential to be a really dumb comment while I’m trying to be deep and meaningful. I fell asleep putting Tucker to bed and woke up at 1am, wide awake (thanks, husband who was NOT a good friend in just going to bed himself) but I hope you know what I mean.
      Also, let’s get your book published, okay?September 16, 2014 – 2:16 amReplyCancel

      • Emily - There is NO DOUBT in my mind that you would be one of those people ordering take-out. I know exactly what you mean when you say you can’t prove that it would be you because I’ve had the same thoughts about myself. I HOPE that I’d be one of those people, but maybe I’d suck too and not realize I was a sucky friend. Of course now that I’ve been on the other side of a really hard time, I am super sensitive to others and any possible hardships and of course that also makes me expect more of others too. Ugh, now I’m rambling…I agree, let’s just publish my stupid book already!September 16, 2014 – 10:05 amReplyCancel

        • Kristi Campbell - There’s no doubt in MY mind that you’d be one bringing takeout, checking in, and being your awesome fabulous self. Probably even more so now that you know first-hand how important it is. xxooSeptember 16, 2014 – 6:53 pmReplyCancel

  • Echo - I love this. I love the way you shared your emotions and brought along on this journey with you. I can honestly say that I cannot wait to read this book!September 15, 2014 – 4:30 pmReplyCancel

  • Jessica - Thanks so much for this, Kristi. I think I need to read this, if only to not feel so alone! I am not only going through a divorce, but also finding that my friendships are not as strong as I thought they were (ie, I’m expected to be there for everyone but no one is there for me). I’ve had lots of problems keeping friends throughout my life. I’ve always wondered what is wrong with me, but maybe it’s not me after all. Thanks again for sharing; I’ll definitely check out this book!September 15, 2014 – 4:39 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Ah Jessica. I’m so so sorry to read that you’re expected to be there for people but that they are not there for you. I wish I could say that I’ve never experienced that, but maybe most of us have? I dunno but it SUCKSASS.
      I promise that it’s not you, sweets. It’s just not. I think that in some ways, women’s friendships are more complicated than our romantic relationships are. In the book, they talk about how the breakups are more complex, but I think that it’s also true that the relationships are. I look back at some of my most important friendships, even ones today, and I’m shocked by how intensely beautiful and also incredibly cruel they were/are.
      Also, I am always always your friend, and am here, if you want to talk. For real.September 16, 2014 – 2:25 amReplyCancel

  • My Inner Chick - Just downloaded to my Kindle, Dear.
    Thank you! Can’t wait to review it. xxxSeptember 15, 2014 – 5:00 pmReplyCancel

  • Angel The Alien - Wow… I want to read it! A few years ago I had a very close, long-term friendship come to an end, and I sort of jokingly refer to her as my “ex” sometimes, because I always call her my ex-best-friend when I mention her… she’s still such a large part of my life, even though I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years. I will definitely check out this book.September 15, 2014 – 6:07 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Angel, I think they are for real our exes, ya know? I mean, we’re so often very very close to our best friends… and when those friendships end, it hurts. Badly.September 16, 2014 – 2:44 amReplyCancel

  • Shay from Trashy Blog - I happen to be going through this VERY THING right now, despite my attempts to make it better. I have learned this in life, and it holds true in this situation: All you can be is yourself. Apologize if and when you need to, but don’t apologize for being you. And don’t feel bad about it. If that’s not enough, then the friendship has run its course. Thanks for this, Kristi. It’s beautiful.September 15, 2014 – 6:38 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - UGH so sorry that you’re going through this, Shay! It’s so not easy, no matter whose fault it is (or if it’s nobody’s fault). And yes – never apologize for being you!!September 16, 2014 – 4:56 pmReplyCancel

  • MsMouse - you are just simply an awesome writer — I have to admit, I’ve “broken up” with some of my old school friends… and still feel guilty (part of being a Norwegian???) <3
    and feel guilty – and always will – about my biggest secret, that YOU know about.September 15, 2014 – 9:06 pmReplyCancel

  • Tamara - She kicked you??? You should have puked some more.
    The little you is so very Tucker. I absolutely love it.
    I cannot WAIT to read this book. I have had this happen countless times, and I always thought there was something wrong with me. This book shows that friendships don’t always last pretty universally.September 15, 2014 – 10:01 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - HAHA Tamara! I so should have puked some more. Looking back on it, she really was a mean beeeotch! It is such a great book – let me know what you think once you read it, okay?September 16, 2014 – 6:58 pmReplyCancel

  • Diane - And now I’m remembering my friends loved and lost. Priceless!September 16, 2014 – 10:47 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - UGH I don’t know if the remembering is good or bad… Either way, I suppose it should be felt, though…September 16, 2014 – 11:05 pmReplyCancel

  • Allie - I’m always intrigues by you past Kristi:)! And considering that you friend didn’t have you back – I’m inclined to think the loss was HERS! Great review. I finished My Other Ex yesterday and loved it. My review will be up at Chick Lit Plus this Friday.September 16, 2014 – 1:26 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - yeah, maybe my past is a tiny bit colorful or weird or just perfectly normal, because what is normal? And YAY to you loving My Other Ex. I cannot BELIEVE I didn’t submit to it. I’m so mad at myself for that!! But well, like my exes, I forgive me, ya know?September 16, 2014 – 11:16 pmReplyCancel

  • Sarah - I’m curious as to how many of these stories happened in middle and high school. Not that there aren’t mean women as well as mean girls, but that’s such a terrible time. My own story is a high school story. I enjoyed reading yours. Very evocative of high school and the horrors of it.September 16, 2014 – 7:17 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - The ones I shared were all complete before freshman year in college. In the book though, they span those years, motherhood, and even beyond. Fucking high school. For real. I mean, really. I can’t believe I was friends with the mean girls.September 16, 2014 – 11:23 pmReplyCancel

  • Joanna - Uhm,, I think you are good at making friends.September 16, 2014 – 8:59 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Um, maybe just good at making friends with awesome people. Like YOU.September 16, 2014 – 11:17 pmReplyCancel

  • Roshni - You now reminded me of all my childhood friends who I barely keep contact with (or not at all!). Great review, Kristi!September 18, 2014 – 4:25 pmReplyCancel

  • Lana - I can’t wait to read this book. I blogged recently about breaking up with my best friend of over 35 years. I was amazed at how many women shared the experience. I’m still not over it, but the pain gets less each day.September 18, 2014 – 6:53 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I wish that so many of us didn’t know this type of pain. It’s so so hard. What’s the link to your friendship breakup?September 21, 2014 – 8:20 pmReplyCancel

  • Brittnei - You have such a raw story! I can see why you wanted to share something. I think it would have been perfect. Reading your stories makes me think of my own. I think I would cry a lot if I read this book for sure!September 18, 2014 – 10:09 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I think it would have been good too, and I regret not submitting something. Next time though! I’m sorry that you’ve had your own friendship breakups… I guess all of us do?September 21, 2014 – 8:28 pmReplyCancel

  • Sandy Ramsey - I am always amazed when I read one of the stories from your childhood or teenage years and realize it could be mine. Sure, there are minor differences but so, so much is the same. Oh how I remember those friendships and the ones that ended badly or for reasons I’m not even sure of. Thanks for the book recommendation. I think I’d like to put that on my list.November 16, 2014 – 6:58 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - It’s a good one Sandy! And I feel the same way about your writing – we do have some really common threads in our pasts. Plus it just makes me happy that anything about me reminds me of you because you’re awesome 🙂November 17, 2014 – 12:30 pmReplyCancel

  • Wendy - I have been able to let go, as needed, of friendships that ended for various reasons–except the girl I was best friends with from fifth grade through college. It is difficult to think about my childhood and youth without stumbling over memories that include her. We never had a falling out as such; there was just a time when I realized I was the only one working on maintaining the friendship, so I stopped, and never heard from her again. She is still in touch with two of our high school friends, as am I, so we occasionally run into each other through them. That feels weird because–she can be bothered to maintain THOSE friendships, but not OURS?January 4, 2015 – 4:34 pmReplyCancel

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