BEL MOONEY: My female friend's 'jokes' are so hurtful. How can I confront her?

Dear Bel,

I am part of a strong female friendship group. Over ten years we’ve had many holidays, weekend breaks and meals out, often meeting on a weekly basis.

Sadly, in the past few years one member of the group has changed and become consistently rude and challenging.

She has insulted one or other of us on every occasion and turned from being witty and amusing to being acerbic and caustic, and making unpleasant ‘jokes’ at the expense of each of the members in the group in turn.

She was away recently when we got together and it was a relief (but no surprise) to realise we’re all finding it incredibly difficult to tolerate her.

We agree we’re all sitting waiting for the next insult to someone in the group. It’s now got to the stage where we don’t want to hold the usual birthday or special occasion events, or arrange our annual skiing holiday. We don’t feel comfortable excluding her because of the previous tightness of the group. But the prospect of another occasion with her is too much to contemplate.

We have considered what may be causing this and there doesn’t seem to be a medical or emotional issue.

Rather she enjoys a laugh and she’s said she doesn’t care how a joke or comment is received any more.

We really don’t know what to do. The group is important to all of us but at the moment our activities have ground to a halt.

We don’t feel talking to her will have any effect — we’ll probably get even more snide comments thereafter.

But we are loath to let our friendship group wither because of one person we previously held in high regard. What do you suggest?

JUDITH

Female friendships are hugely important and I feel sorry for women who don’t have them.

Women can give each other immense support and I bet there are times when one or other of you comes to a meet-up feeling a bit low but is soon laughing with the rest of you. So your problem is far from trivial.

The worst-case scenario feels horribly clear to me. Something has to be sacrificed. One member of your group seems likely to destroy all you have shared unless you are brave enough to do something about it. You say: ‘We have considered what may be causing this and there doesn’t seem to be a medical or emotional issue.’

How can you know? Presumably you discussed this when she wasn’t there, but my own first thought on reading your letter was that there might well be something wrong.

I’d be wondering if she is on the autistic spectrum, yet you say she hasn’t always been like this.

It is certainly not appropriate for me to make any sort of guess-diagnosis, but I want to suggest things for you to think about. Another point is that she may be showing signs of dementia.

You don’t mention her age but, in any case, early-onset dementia can start in the 40s and can certainly cause mood changes. I think, in fairness to her, you should all think about these things. Might it be possible to speak in confidence to a member of her family?

There remains the issue of fairness to all of you. It would be very sad if you allowed the group —which means so much to everyone — to fall apart. Since this lady has said ‘she doesn’t care how a joke or comment is received any more’ either somebody must have protested to her, or she is quite aware that she is causing pain.

If it’s the latter, then she’s becoming the sort of unpleasant person you surely don’t want as a friend. People do change — and we must change with them. Groups can’t always stay the same.

What would happen if one of you (draw lots?) were to call her out next time she is intolerably snide? An honest row might (a) clear the air and show her she must mind her manners or (b) annoy her so much she says goodbye. Suffering in silence is not an option.

Why is my husband of 25 years behaving so bizarrely?

Dear Bel,

Early in 2023 my husband of 24 years, aged 52, our family rock and sole breadwinner, wonderful father and stepfather, began to act strangely.

He is a musician and loved by all. In early 2023 he started to complain of a tremor in his right arm. He’d suddenly leave the house in the early evening, returning at 2am. I became very concerned. My sons noticed he was secretive with his phone. We all suspected an affair. By summer he suffered balance problems and started to fall to one side.

We went on holiday and I got off the plane with a complete stranger. The two weeks was hell. He was texting constantly, and coming back to the hotel room at 4am. Back home I confronted him and he admitted he was having an emotional affair online. Devastated I told him to stop or our marriage was over. He chose the marriage.

However he insisted he needed to be alone and had to move out to his own flat. We couldn’t afford it but he went ahead anyway. None of us were allowed to know the address. Family members told me to divorce him but I believe I owe him my loyalty, love and support.

I got him to the GP for his tremors and strange behaviour and he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. I made plans to support him, arrange appointments etc. Then he announced he was moving to a city for work. So he now rents another flat there - without relinquishing the local one. We are financially ruined because of it. I have no money for a broken boiler. But he will not take any difference of opinion.

He says he loves me, thanks me for support, texts me daily and I visit his city flat - but am not allowed to know the address of the flat locally! I see the progression of Parkinson’s robbing me of the wonderful husband I once had - now this stranger. It’s our silver wedding anniversary this year and he has booked a holiday...one we cannot realistically afford.

Bel, all I see is a hopeless future. He will be forced to return home when his condition deteriorates to the point he cannot work. I’m 55 and see nothing but bleakness ahead. I love him very much and will stand by him come what may, but I am daunted by everyday existence in this long-distance marriage I never wanted. I want him home, but know when he returns it will be as a broken, sick man who may not recognise me any longer. We’ve been robbed of our golden years.

I cannot make sense of the 15 months chaos I’ve endured and see no way out. My sons think divorce is the only option, in order to give me a life, but it is not an option for me, as I love him dearly. Please help me.

LINDA

This is a tragic letter, because by so resolutely expressing your love for your husband and absolute loyalty despite his behaviour, you are turning the key on your own prison cell.

You ask me for help, yet it is almost impossible for me to know what to say. Perhaps that’s why I chose your letter.

I often find myself looking at the day-to-day world beyond this column and wondering that so many people sail along with no inkling of the pain others endure. They really think it a matter of willpower to ‘pull yourself together’ and ‘move on’ and ‘make a new start’, when you and I know very differently.

Love locked you into this marriage 25 years ago, and now love has locked you further into your helpless devotion to this sick and trying man at an incalculable cost to yourself.

In your longer letter you tell me one of your sons has Down’s Syndrome and you care for him, while you ‘break down every day’ because of being so exhausted by the present and so terrified of the future. This is a truly terrible situation.

Because your husband has always been the charismatic breadwinner, a musician (and without doubt, a flirt) used to adoration from women, I suspect you have always been used to taking a back seat in your marriage.

In other words, letting him rule the roost.

You see, we could perhaps attribute his shockingly selfish behaviour to the onset of Parkinson’s (there are many symptoms, including being impulsive and other personality changes). You describe him as a ‘stranger’, so it might be useful for you to read up on Parkinson’s on the internet, simply to understand a bit more.

On the other hand, his appalling behaviour may be caused by his fear of growing old and desire to flex his muscles while he can.

I can’t help wondering whether you have always allowed yourself to be a doormat. Two flats? And not ‘allowing’ you to know the address of the local one? While you sit at home in tears because the boiler has broken, you’re freezing cold, and there is no money because he is squandering it?

Oh, no, no, no – this is intolerable.

It’s interesting that when you actually stood up to him and gave him an ultimatum – to stop the ‘emotional affair’ online or lose the marriage - he capitulated immediately.

You say he cannot bear any disagreement whatsoever, yet he was sufficiently afraid of your righteous anger to stop fiddling around with a stupid online romance.

The only thing I can suggest is that you try it again. Be brutal. Tell him to ditch the flats or the marriage is over. Tell him that unless he does this he will never again set foot in your family home.

You have to give an ultimatum. It might save you.

Even rats have upsides if your mind is open

As a teenager, my son had a white rat. He called the fine creature Ozric, after a band he liked, Ozric Tentacles.

Dan could summon Ozric from many yards away, and the pet would run in loping leaps through the grass and use his pink claws to climb swiftly up his body and curl happily around his neck.

I, too, liked Ozric and it felt cool to walk around with Ozric on my shoulders, especially if there were other women around, because they’d recoil in shock-horror — ‘Eeeeuww’.

That’s why, since we live in the country, I have no problem with the occasional glimpse of a rat near the house. But inside the house is different issue.

And we had a rat in the attic — roaming the low-ceilinged top floor where our grandchildren’s bedroom is, plus a guest room and my husband’s office.

How did he get upstairs? No idea. What to do? My husband dislikes killing things, so he baited a humane trap. He also put a piece of wood across the bottom of the old, winding, attic stair, so Ratty couldn’t access the rest of the house. The cheese would surely tempt him into the chamber — but Rattus Norvegicus is very intelligent, and rumbled the ruse. The cheese remained un-nibbled, the trap empty.

So it was days before my husband came downstairs, triumphantly holding the humane trap before my face. There was captured Ratty, looking calm inside the Perspex chamber. ‘Hello,’ I said, as his bright little eyes met mine, ‘Aren’t you beautiful?’

It was an instinctive response — because he was. Fine brown coat, excellent whiskers, cute little claws . . . and I was almost sorry to say goodbye as my husband put him in the car, to be released somewhere a few miles away.

Call us daft if you like, or irresponsible, and we’ll say even a rat has the right to life. Like Ozric, handsome Ratty taught me this: creatures you instinctively find scary or loathsome can turn out to be appealing, if you let them.