There you are, at the local watering hole with a few of your buddies, when Tommy introduces you to his best friend's little brother, Jared. Tommy brought him along for the ride tonight, because when they were sitting around playing PlayStation with Jimmy this afternoon, Jared mentioned that his friends had ditched on him for the evening to go see a monster truck rally up in Wisconsin, and that's just not his scene. Fuckers.
Everybody knocks back a few brewskis, telling and re-telling the same old jokes that fill the conversation every Friday night. But Jared adds a new element to the mix. When Tamara jokes about that time the old lady at her work ripped a huge fart right in the middle of a meeting, everybody laughs, except Jared. Jared says "How can you laugh as something like that? Imagine how embarrassed she was." Totally deadpan. Everybody stops talking and stares at Jared, and just when Ramie is about to ask Tommy who this pussy is that he brought to church tonight, Jared starts laughing his ass off. He says "I'm just fuckin' with you guys! Farts are funny!" Everybody calls him an asshole and cracks up. Ramie buys him a shot of Wild Turkey. This guy's hilarious.
All night I notice that he's glancing at me every time he makes a joke, waiting for my reaction. He asks me to play a game of pool and I kick his ass. By the third game, we're both completely trashed and I can't aim worth a shit. It's not only that I can't aim - I can't see. But, damn, I'm having a good time. And so is Jared. "I've gotta go before I fall down," I say, matter-of-factly. Phone numbers are exchanged; future coffee drinking plans float between us.
Surprise! Jared calls on Tuesday night. We go to coffee at a place by his house, because the diners around my house have rude servers. He says he understands, and I know he's silently grateful that I don't expect him to drive all the way out to my side of town.
We talk about our family histories, irritating jobs we've held, our M.O.'s and philosophies. There's so much to learn about Jared! He's not just funny; I think we have a connection. I begin to wonder if we'd make a good couple.
We have coffee three more times before we reach the comfort level of discussing our sex lives. Unfortunately, he has one.
However, a couple months of casual coffee talk and beering turn into a weekly meeting. Just to keep up with our lives' happenings. We've weaseled our ways into each others' Outlook calendars as a repeating event. We don't talk about our philosophies anymore. In fact, we spend most nights together relaying details from our work days and relationships. There is no need for a back story anymore, because I know his secretary's crazy Harley smashing son is named "Terrence."
He's not different anymore. He's just like me.
And did you notice how many details I was able to share about that first night I met him, as compared to the following 17 months? That's because "new" is exciting. Comfort is not. So you forget the details and the witty quips, the inside glances and the drunken confessions. Well, you still talk about those things, but only when other people are around, because now you use them as proof that the two of you once shared some crazy times; that there was a reason for the initial attraction of a self-proclaimed video game addict to a hemp-wearing cigar aficionado (that's me, by the way).
But it's all good. I mean, we'll probably be friends forever, unless he marries Ramie, because that would just be weird.

05/11/2006

Posted on 11/11/2006
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