Best Friends

I do not get this narrow minded view many people have that men and women cannot be real friends without sex being involved.

 

Not only did I hear someone say that the other day, but this has been an issue several times during my 20+ year friendship with Michael.  Not on our parts, obviously, but various girlfriends through the years have vigorously objected to our friendship.

 

I met Mikey when he was 15 and I was 25.  At the time, there were five of us living in a two-bedroom apartment, one of the roommates brought Mikey over and he quickly became our weed connection and one of the group. 

 

Mikey was so adorable, he had this gorgeous true blond hair halfway down his back, long skinny body always in tight spandex and cropped t-shirts.  He drew the girls like magnets, I’m sure the spandex didn’t hurt.  He was pretty much a boy s**t, so there were many, many girls.

 

Computers were just becoming popular back then, when the “Internet” was BBS’s and chat channels, programming was done in DOS or BASIC, screens were orange or green type only, no graphics at all, 300 baud modem for downloads, the archaic computer age.

 

There were three computers running at all times at our apartment, and Mikey was always inside one of them, upgrading or fixing or just tinkering, a cigarette or joint in one hand, a screwdriver in the other.  For many years, I only had to buy parts, Mikey built all my computers to my specifications.  He’s been my go-to guy for any tech question I could ever hope to have.

 

Chris and I moved to an apartment on Clear Lake on a hot, humid morning, and Mikey and friends were right there to help.  I’m not sure whose bright idea it was to take a hit of blotter acid before moving, but none of us were apparently too bright that day.  Ten minutes later, we discovered that the elevator was broken, so the twisting staircase to the third floor was our only option.

 

By the time we’d all taken our first load, we were soaked with sweat and gasping for oxygen, there were many long breaks between loads.  It took almost two hours to hoist a 6’x6’ bookcase up to the third floor, as it wasn’t going up the stairs.  Several times the only thing that kept it from falling was 90-pound Mikey holding on for dear life, nearly being pulled over the balcony from the weight of the bookcase.

 

We all gave up for the day soon after that, but after searching the few items that had made it to the apartment, we were all back at the U-Haul trying to spot the one thing we must have: one particular white plastic trash bag.  Mikey took one for the team, crawling over and under and through furniture and boxes and bags.  He emerged twenty minutes later pouring sweat, beet red, and ready to pass out, but with the weed we had to have.

 

When he was 18, Mikey got a long term girlfriend who did not like me or understand our friendship.  She gave him an ultimatum and he disappeared out of my life.

 

During that time, Chris and I moved.  About a year later, there was a knock at the door and Mikey came back into my life as Michael: short hair, glasses, preppy look, and clean.  When I said earlier that he was our weed and acid dealer, that was all our group used, but he was a big mixer of just about anything when he wasn’t with us, a connoisseur of drugs.  I don’t believe I ever saw Mikey straight.

 

But that was Mikey, Michael was clean.  And he came bearing gifts:  my hippy, dippy Dana-monster.

 

Three weekends out of four, Michael picked up Dana and they stayed with us all weekend.  We had many D&D weekends where that was almost all we did, with short food and nap breaks.  I’d cook spaghetti or a brisket, when you got hungry you served yourself, then got back to the rolling of dice and saving of kingdoms.

 

I found a short term lease duplex to get away from Chris, but soon after I moved, Chris and I were held up at gun point, and all the emotional after effects brought us back together.  This duplex was unbelievable, I won’t be able to do it justice but I’ll try.  It was a one bedroom duplex in about 500 square feet.

 

The only door opened into the living room, where you faced two shallow closets, the doors painted glossy black, the door trims painted glossy barn red, which was a continuing theme throughout the house.  On the right wall, in addition to a black door with red trim, someone had sponged concentric rows and columns of flat black, barn red, and dove grey squares, like a crazy patchwork quilt.  Dana often had nightmares inspired by that wall. 

 

The bathroom had a claw foot tub and pedestal sink, with tiny alternating black and white tile on the floor and large black and white tile on every inch of wall space.  The kitchen had white enamel sink and counter along one wall, above it cabinets painted glossy barn red.  On the other wall stood a white enamel stove and white enamel refrigerator, with the tiny alternating black and white tile floor.  It was atrocious!

 

In Houston, the humidity rarely dips below 90%, and there was no central air, only a window unit in the bedroom that would, on a cloudy day, cool the bedroom to 85, maybe.  The second you walked out of the bedroom, you were a drenched mess.

 

We could only play in the living room for about half hour increments, Dana and I in our bras and underwear, the boys in their shorts, then the four of us would run to the bedroom and sprawl across the bed until the sweat dried, and back to the game.  After a few weeks of that, we all pitched in to buy a window unit for the living room.

 

When my short term lease was up, I stupidly moved back with Chris for another year of hell.  Michael was there almost every night as a buffer so Chris and I didn’t kill each other.  I have to tell you that I laughed my a** off the day Chris realized that Michael was there as my friend and not his.  He was livid when Michael basically told him that he’d only hung out with Chris because Dana and I were off doing girl things.

 

I finally got away from Chris, and not long afterwards, Michael and Dana broke up.  I told them both they were going to have to learn to get along because I was keeping Dana, too.  I didn’t encourage them both to be over at the same time, but if they were, they better get along.  When they snapped and picked and b*tched at each other, I kicked them both out, and they eventually settled into their own peace and have become good friends themselves over the years.

 

Michael is an extremely intelligent and inquisitive guy, but with few exceptions, the women he’s chosen can’t engage in intellectual conversation.  I’m sure they had other things to offer, but conversation was not one of them.  So he partake of their other offerings, but talked to me, about anything and everything.

 

I remember just getting in the car and driving for hours with no destination, just talking.  There were times the girlfriend du jour was even in the car, but could rarely add to the conversation.  Most of the poor little things probably couldn’t even spell conversation.

 

I imagine Dana and I together offered a real challenge for Michael’s potential girlfriends, being his older woman best friend and his ex, now friend.  That didn’t always fly too well and he disappeared for months at a time for one girl or another.  But he always came back.   

 

As his standards rose, there were bigger gaps between girls, so there were many a Friday and Saturday night spent shooting Cuervo, playing eight ball, and hours and hours of conversation.  One night he might show up with a new girl who might last awhile, or not, but eventually we were back at the pool hall.

 

Camping and tubing trips down the Frio and Guadalupe rivers; watching meteor showers from the beach; horseback riding; go-carts and mini golf; shooting pool and tequila; hot tub trips to Clear Lake; D&D weekends; computer games; laughing pains and after-effect pains from acid trips; being adopted by a third “mom”; hours and hours of conversations; and always a true sense of love and acceptance.

 

My other friend, Michele, moved into the same complex where Michael was living, so she and Dariele became part of our “family.”  The four of us, Michael, Dana, Michele and myself, have continued to be in each others lives since.

 

Well, except for a very long span where Michael disappeared, got married, and had a daughter, all without any of us by his side.  I thought she like me.  She let me get her a job, she even let me cover for her while she planned her wedding instead of actually working.  As she was hired to assist me, and the bosses could see I was now busier than ever, they decided to let her go.  They told me right before they told her, and she was gone without a word.

 

I have no idea what she told Michael, but I went from an almost every day Michael habit to no Michael at all, one day my best friend was just gone.  I knew where he was several times through the years, but like the other times he’d disappeared, I didn’t interfere.  I just hoped he’d find his way back one day.

 

About four months ago, he found me on Facebook.  We’ve only managed to get together a few times, and those pretty short, mostly spent catching up.  Our lives are no longer linked as they were for so many years, it’s much more difficult to find time to get together.

 

Although I understood and supported his decisions to pull away when a relationship required it, that never made the hurt any less.  As I’m writing this, I’m finding that I’m still a little hurt and angry that he stayed away so long.  This time felt more like abandonment than circumstances.  I know that I should just be happy that he made his way back and let the past go, but while that’s easy to say, it’s not always so easy to do.

 

Previous breaks were just a few months, or maybe even a year, never this long.  And this time, we’ve moved on without each other for so long that it’s difficult to get back into each others lives.  We'll never be as close as we once were.

 

But the past is done and can’t be changed, and he’s here and I’m here.  The only thing that matters is that he's back now.

 

I really hope the new girlfriend likes me.