Recently, I wrote an article for the Lifestyle section of my community newspaper, which the editor took upon himself to entitle A boss becomes a friend. I knew from the moment I laid my eager little paws on the newsprint that I was doomed. And the title was just the beginning.

Based upon the title given to my written work, the reader would be likely to assume two things. First, that the topic of said article was my boss, which was not true. Well, not exactly. Second, one may assume that this is a pointless fluff piece, written as a veiled attempt to brown-nose this particular “boss”. Wrong again. In fact, some of the people who know me the best have come forward to tear my article apart, misunderstanding the entire premise and reasoning behind it. I am writing this rebuttal to set the record straight, not because I feel obligated to, but because I am tired of being misunderstood. So there.

Let’s start with my grandmother. To fully understand her complaint about my article, we need to refer back to the passage in question:

“He became something that my other friends couldn’t be for me – a role model. He was the kind of adult I aspired to become, the kind of adult I hadn’t had in my life previously”

My grandmother is unhappy with me because she thinks that this particular quote is a “slap in the face” to my parents. First of all, I was talking from a friendship perspective. When you take a group of twenty-somethings who are stumbling haphazardly through life and put them in a room together, how much assistance are they really going to be able to offer each other when it comes to the workings of day-to-day life? Sure, they can provide feedback based on their shared situations, but really, it helps to have an older person around who has already been there, done that. Pete, the man I was referring to, has been a good influence on me. That doesn’t mean my parents haven’t. But let’s face it, no one wants to grow up to become his or her parents, and I am no different. Does that make me evil? No Grandma, I don’t think so.

Let’s move on to my dad. His “two-cents”? He insists that Pete’s wife will mistake my admiration for her husband for obsession. Apparently the fact that I am not interested in him in that way is irrelevant, as is the fact that Mrs. Pete would surely never feel threatened by the likes of little ol’ me. So what does a self-respecting writer looking to pacify her daddy do? How about this…

Dear Mrs. Pete,
I am not trying to steal your husband.
Love, Shelly  

That was easy.

Unfortunately, a lot of my friends think that my article was a blatant “I Love Pete” fan club submission. Apparently I wasn’t clear enough in my writing…or perhaps they didn’t really try to understand. The article wasn’t about Pete, so to speak. It was about the idea that two people, no matter how different, can find common ground and become friends. Hell, when I first met the man when I was fifteen, I would’ve scoffed at the idea of even carrying on a conversation with him. Not because I thought I was better than him. (Ha! As if.) But because I thought he was better than me. The article was about my growth…my transformation into a woman who believed she was worthy of such a respected man’s friendship. (As opposed to merely his tolerance.)

Keep in mind, the newspaper only allowed me 500 words to convey my message. If I wasn’t clear, then oh well. Shoot me.

My question is…why does it even matter?

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