A Brief History of Love, Friendship and all that Shitza

18Sep07

Every time my best friend comes over, my life feels like it has meaning all over again. We have history; we grew up together (at least life post-High School) and had an important part to play in shaping each other’s personalities. Archie & Jughead, you can call us – except that we have far better hair. Joey & Chandler, you can call us – except that we are far less overweight. Maverick & Goose, you can call us – except that neither of us is gay.

When you know someone for so long, you start to mirror each other in a very freaky way. You know the jokes that are going to come out of their mouth a nanosecond before they do – but unlike bad comedies, the all-important LULZ are never compromised. There are no uncomfortable silences and no awkward moments where someone takes offense. You can say the words ‘My Dad is a jackass’ in front of a good friend without a second thought. A true best friend is someone who doesn’t mind you calling their dad an asshole.

Every time we hang out, we talk about the good old days of shits and giggles, the easy chicks, the prude chicks who wouldn’t even give us a second glance; the fears, anxieties, depression and rejection. The failed attempts at seduction and the few times we scored big… we know everything about each other and the TotalAwesomeCoolness™ packed within our memories. But I am losing my friend – to a woman.

My best friend is head-over-heels, bat-out-of-hell, Beyonce-crazy-about-Jay-Z in love with this chick. He is always on the phone with her, talking about her day and the cute little details of her recent bi-monthly picnic with all 67 members of her thick-as-thieves extended family. He rides his bike through a thunderstorm to get to her, he always has the dial on his Charm-and-Wit Generator turned to 11 and constantly pines, longs and nurses an aching hard-on for her. It gets annoying at times but I don’t let it bother me because it had been a long time coming. But there’s a catch – they both pretend to be friends.

At this point, you are shaking your head in disbelief and probably muttering ‘What the holy fuck?’ under your breath. He’s in love with her, she’s in love with him – it’s so freaking clear that even Captain Obvious™ can’t believe his damn eyes. Captain Obvious™ is flying around in this thrift-shop cape, wondering if there was ever a moment better suited for his finely-tuned superpowers. I can hear him yell into a megaphone two inches away from their ears, “Dude, you love her and she has already named all 42 babies she wants to make with you. Cut this bullshit out, capice? For the love of God and all that’s holy, you are both fast approaching your mid-twenties and this is exactly the kind of stuff that makes angels cry and Harley Davidsons break down on deserted highways. Do you want to write the epitaph of the greatest motorcycle maker ever? Do you want the definition of the word ‘biker’ to mean a 17-year-old wannabe-yuppie Japanese kid with a 4.0 GPA on a 65MPG Honda? No, you idiot. Bring on the lovin’ and save Harley Davidson!”

I have tried to formulate theories on why grown ups love to kid themselves but I always give up. People in love don’t make sense. Hell, people in general don’t make a lot of sense a lot of the times. When I review every relationship I’ve been, I laugh and cry at the same time. I laugh because they were right out of Urban Males Confess to Dating the Who’s Who of Human Trash; I cry because they were also featured in Urban Males Confess to Dating the Who’s Who of Human Trash and Actually Believing they were in Love at the Time.

I have been in what I thought was love a few times. The one that I like to talk about most, The Deranged Foxymophandlemama, was a piece of work. She knew nothing of politics, the arts, science, humor, life, etiquette or fun. Surprisingly, our Ross-and-Rachel relationship lasted way too long for our own good. Looking back, I realize how fucking desperate and retarded I must have been but thanks to recent events, I constitute that series of bad decisions and indecisions (while I was torch-bearer of the confederacy of dunces) to global warming, neuro-toxins in my Chinese-manufactured sunglasses and the absurdity of finding love when I was truly destined to be a Jedi.

Seriously, what was I thinking? The only thing China is good at making is Chinese people. Taught me well Yoda, you have.

I am no expert in love because I tend to go for all the wrong women. So far, I have found my heart pounding a little harder for the following:

• A girl who got married while I was still trying to figure out what a clitoris was.
• A girl who liked to fry my brains so she could enjoy it with a little Chianti.
• A girl who fell in love with me but struggled to dump both her DoA boyfriend and her fiance. Party of four, Yoda likes not.
• A girl who had a Ross-and-Rachel relationship of her own.

The list contains the main women in my past half-life and doesn’t include the other gems, such as the girl who had the distinct honor of being the world’s most sinfully boring person. Ever. She shall remain so for all of eternity – or at least until the next Ice Age. But every one of these fine (or not) women taught me a few things: namely telltale signs that tell you to back your truck up and never again be within 5 miles of someone like them. But all of these details are largely unnecessary because they have nothing to do with my best friend.

My best friend has found an awesome woman and truth be told, that awesome woman has found an awesome man in my awesome best friend. Then why for the love of the awesomeness that is Bill Gates do they pretend to be buddies? Why is my friend content with being her emotional tampon? Why is she content with being in a relationship that is pristine, genuine and not under pressure to be slotted in a predetermined societal class?

Screw all of that. You like someone, go for it. You love someone, think twice before you make that proclamation. You hate your significant other? Jump ship, throw out your SIM, delete them from Facebook and drive north-west for 42 miles. If you see Baxter, call Ron and bark twice if you are in Milwaukee.

A true friend is a rare thing, much the same as true love. The thought of finding a woman that you can love as much as your best friend makes my head spin with glee. For instance, I love Microsoft Corp. and someday, I hope to feel the same way about a woman. This brings me to a startling revelation of what I want in a woman:

Mandatory:

1. I should feel as strongly about her as I do about Microsoft Corp.
2. Must not have changed genders.
3. Must look like a young Courteney Cox. (Friends Season One -> /drool)
4. Do all those cute things Natalie Portman does in Garden State.
5. Should be nothing like Alicia Silverstone’s character in Clueless.
6. Must not consider herself to be a tortured artist.

Optional:

1. Must think I would be perfect for any of Zach Braff’s acting roles
2. Must think I can sing like Chris Cornell
3. Must think that Good Will Hunting’s screenplay could have easily be written by me
4. Must never question the Catwoman outfit I have in my closet – unless she intends on trying it on sometime.
5. Should realize that nothing I care to put down in a list is optional, superfluous, filler junk.

By now, you all realize that I’m a shallow man forever doomed to be in loveless relationships; one who will ultimately take to drink and indulge in anorexic supermodels dimmer than Miss South Carolina. My advise to those of you that actually have a shot at something real – don’t be afraid to fucking live a little.

After-thoughts: Once again, I have managed to take a post vastly off-topic and turn it into a half-assed commentary all about me and my 2AM meanderings from the previous night while I clenched and struggled on the john. I do so, because I am lost, troubled and lonely. If you want to put me out of my misery with some lovin’, e-mail me with four non-Photoshopped pics – mugshot, front, side and back. Don’t put the words ‘hot/nude/naked/sexy/dirty/kinky’ etc. in the Subject field because my spam filter doesn’t like those.

/Checks e-mail alert from MySpace… Yhelothar lonelydirtykinkybabyprincessvirgin18!

Kthxbye.

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Tags: Friends, Love