() was a friend of mine. We’d known one other since we were kids, and our time together was always interesting and enjoyable. She did, however, have one flaw: she only listened to herself. This wasn’t a big deal when we were younger. I had to repeat things several times before she would pay attention, but I didn’t take this feature of her personality seriously. “So what if I have to say something a few times before she acknowledges it?” I reasoned. Nobody is perfect, but she was still a wonderful friend.”

But it was just this characteristic that caused our friendship to fall apart. She married soon after high school, but I went to university, graduated, and began establishing my profession. Nonetheless, our friendship endured. Our encounters became less regular as our interests diverged, but we still considered each other friends. After all, isn’t friendship about more than merely contact frequency?

My mother, on the other hand, was constantly perplexed by our friendship. “What can you even talk about?” she’d often ask. She has no other interests besides gossip.” In some ways, my mother was correct. I already had three children, ages ten, eight, and six, at the time of my wedding. I invited her and her husband to the wedding but told them not to bring their children. I’ve seen the mayhem that can ensue during family reunions, and I want this day to be calm.”

I knew her well enough to warn her eight times because she had a habit of not paying heed to what others said. Despite my repeated warnings, she arrived with her entire family, including the children, on the day of my wedding. “I told you not to bring the kids,” I addressed her. I’m tired of seeing mayhem at family gatherings.” “Where else am I supposed to put them?” she replied as she walked away from the wedding venue. I attempted to phone her, but she did not answer. She took offense as if I were to fault for her failure to pay attention to my words.