Do you want to be my friend?
God I want a drink right now.
Just to get rid of the small voice in my head that's so smugly reminding me that all my emotional pain is self inflicted. That the cure for what ails me is at every major convenience store/gas station and available for purchase for another two hours at least, more if I go to one of the many bars in the area.
This all started today with a short conversation with jynjyrbug over instant messenger where I mentioned that I feel as though I only have one real friend right now. In this case the definition of a "real" friend would be someone who voluntarily hangs out with me outside of a group setting in real life. Not that friends like jynjyrbug aren't friends, but it's not the same thing.
So my mind started wandering over friends and how they've left my life. Specifically the people who've called my best friends. The first one I contemplate is Charlie "Booger" Wiechec. I spare no pang of guilt towards that monstrosity of a wolf in sheep's clothing. He is rotten to core not even having the decency to pay his own child support anymore while his mother uses her connections at the post office to track down and harass his baby-mama. He is a fucker through and through, but no one who knows half of the shit I forgave that man for could possibly mistake that I must have thought of him as a best friend once.
Then I think of Travis. I had the idea that Travis and I were going to be hetero-life-mates sharing the same apartment in much the same way I watched my friends Mickey and Ed live together for the entire time I knew them. Of course they aren't roommates anymore because of woman as well, but Mickey moved across town, not across Lake Erie. I talk to Travis, but he's become an online friend. He still refers to our friendship glowingly, but I can't help thinking about the time before he left. The guy who could never listen to me about anything. I know he'll say he hated my girlfriend and it was in some kind of protest to her constant verbal abuse that he smoked in the house, but I don't buy that. Even if I did, what kind of logical sense does it make to infuriate a girl who is going to respond by making your friend's life a living Hell? That takes care of the two guys I was so close to that years ago I asked both of them to drop everything and come with me to California and they did.
Which brings me around to my old friend Jerry. I would call Jerry my oldest friend were it not for Brett, but Jerry and I have, over the years, logged more hours in the friendship machine then I have with Brett by an order of magnitude. It happens that way sometimes. When I came back from California something had changed about my relationship with Jerry. At first I chalked it up to being three years behind on in-jokes and experiences. I had to re-acclimate to the group dynamic.
Sometimes, when I want to feel superior, I think that I hurt his feelings when I moved to California. He carried around an April Fools card in the glove compartment of his car for a month after I left expecting me to pop up at any moment and tell him it was all a practical joke. He wanted to be ready to tell me and everyone else that he had never been fooled. Now I read that as, "I never believed for a moment that Shawn could actually leave." perhaps unfairly and perhaps not. It's possible that tainted our friendship more then I could realize. It's possible a lot of things tainted our relationship more then I could realize. I've never been able to hold a grudge and consequently I've never been able to get into the head of people who can. Jerry can.
What I never felt before I left for California and have felt ever more keenly over the past few years is the solid notion that Jerry looked down his nose at me. Pitied me and felt superior to me. It was directed at my drinking. He said to me once, quoting something he told our friend Vic, "Shawn's my friend and someday, when he gets himself to AA and gets cleaned up, then he'll be my best friend." and more recently, "You might not deserve a friend like me." I could go on, but why beat a dead horse. Given my behavior over the years Jerry's not without good reason to feel superior to me, but it irks me now that he's in prison. I don't think I'd even have gotten into thinking about this, but his last words to me were "Don't drink." followed up by TWO girls I know telling me Jerry told them about my problems with Ava. My indignation abounds.
When I torched his laptop after finding naked pictures of him on it (did I mention him having good reasons to feel superior?) we struggled to find time to talk about it so that we didn't leave any bad blood hanging. Getting a moment alone with Jerry this past year has been horrendously difficult and I wanted to spend the time laughing, not hashing things out, but now I think I should have because every time I start a letter to him in prison I just want to scream. The week that he spent trying to get his laptop back from me was the most he called me in the entire five years I've been back. My first letter finally went out yesterday. It's mostly pictures.
So there's the trifecta. One friend's a fink, one friend's a dink, and one's in the clink.
I thank Bob for my friend Kaela, currently the only person outside of my roommates and their friends that I see on a regular basis, since I think I would have gone insane in the last few weeks without her coming over to watch old Veronica Mars episodes.
Tonight I went out the Dave & Busters for Gabby's birthday party. I walked in thinking about how almost all the girls I've loved cheated on me and some of my truest friends have left, slamming the door on the way out. Then I played video games, which is not a "social" activity, unless you're all playing the same game. I walked around alone and played a LOT of Silent Scope with (I hope) a good sense of irony. I kept looking at 50% of the people there and realized I disliked or hated most of them. Finally, I came and sat down at a table with people I liked. Unfortunately, about five minutes later they all went back to to the Sutterkowski house for drinks, so not really the place for a repentant alcoholic.
Instead I'm at home alone. Thankfully Bill (a guy who I think likes me, but has stated on more then one occasion that he's too polite and tactful for me to tell if he hates my guts or not) drove me home with Brad. I'm desperately trying not to draw any associations there for the sake of my last lingering thread of self-esteem.
Ava's staying the night at her dad's house and I'm all alone. The evening was depressing enough without knowing that friendly people are having good times drinking with each other. The urge to drink was almost overwhelming. Instead I've just spent the past five hours ranting and raving in this Live Journal and now it's nearly time for the stores to stop selling alcohol. Score one for the big guy? Hope so. Still got a half an hour to go.
Still, I wish I could have just called someone else to come over and hang out. Maybe smoke some pot and play some videos games (pot's a poor substitute for drinking, but I should really start having my own stash) or watch the one season of Freaks and Geeks. Does that sound good to you? Do you live anywhere nearby? If so please call.
After writing that line I got up from my computer feeling much better and more self-controlled. I congratulated myself on a job well done. I went to the fridge to get a glass of water or something.
I just found Long Island Iced Tea mix in the fridge.
I'm hyperventilating.
Fuck. This. Shit.
Just to get rid of the small voice in my head that's so smugly reminding me that all my emotional pain is self inflicted. That the cure for what ails me is at every major convenience store/gas station and available for purchase for another two hours at least, more if I go to one of the many bars in the area.
This all started today with a short conversation with jynjyrbug over instant messenger where I mentioned that I feel as though I only have one real friend right now. In this case the definition of a "real" friend would be someone who voluntarily hangs out with me outside of a group setting in real life. Not that friends like jynjyrbug aren't friends, but it's not the same thing.
So my mind started wandering over friends and how they've left my life. Specifically the people who've called my best friends. The first one I contemplate is Charlie "Booger" Wiechec. I spare no pang of guilt towards that monstrosity of a wolf in sheep's clothing. He is rotten to core not even having the decency to pay his own child support anymore while his mother uses her connections at the post office to track down and harass his baby-mama. He is a fucker through and through, but no one who knows half of the shit I forgave that man for could possibly mistake that I must have thought of him as a best friend once.
Then I think of Travis. I had the idea that Travis and I were going to be hetero-life-mates sharing the same apartment in much the same way I watched my friends Mickey and Ed live together for the entire time I knew them. Of course they aren't roommates anymore because of woman as well, but Mickey moved across town, not across Lake Erie. I talk to Travis, but he's become an online friend. He still refers to our friendship glowingly, but I can't help thinking about the time before he left. The guy who could never listen to me about anything. I know he'll say he hated my girlfriend and it was in some kind of protest to her constant verbal abuse that he smoked in the house, but I don't buy that. Even if I did, what kind of logical sense does it make to infuriate a girl who is going to respond by making your friend's life a living Hell? That takes care of the two guys I was so close to that years ago I asked both of them to drop everything and come with me to California and they did.
Which brings me around to my old friend Jerry. I would call Jerry my oldest friend were it not for Brett, but Jerry and I have, over the years, logged more hours in the friendship machine then I have with Brett by an order of magnitude. It happens that way sometimes. When I came back from California something had changed about my relationship with Jerry. At first I chalked it up to being three years behind on in-jokes and experiences. I had to re-acclimate to the group dynamic.
Sometimes, when I want to feel superior, I think that I hurt his feelings when I moved to California. He carried around an April Fools card in the glove compartment of his car for a month after I left expecting me to pop up at any moment and tell him it was all a practical joke. He wanted to be ready to tell me and everyone else that he had never been fooled. Now I read that as, "I never believed for a moment that Shawn could actually leave." perhaps unfairly and perhaps not. It's possible that tainted our friendship more then I could realize. It's possible a lot of things tainted our relationship more then I could realize. I've never been able to hold a grudge and consequently I've never been able to get into the head of people who can. Jerry can.
What I never felt before I left for California and have felt ever more keenly over the past few years is the solid notion that Jerry looked down his nose at me. Pitied me and felt superior to me. It was directed at my drinking. He said to me once, quoting something he told our friend Vic, "Shawn's my friend and someday, when he gets himself to AA and gets cleaned up, then he'll be my best friend." and more recently, "You might not deserve a friend like me." I could go on, but why beat a dead horse. Given my behavior over the years Jerry's not without good reason to feel superior to me, but it irks me now that he's in prison. I don't think I'd even have gotten into thinking about this, but his last words to me were "Don't drink." followed up by TWO girls I know telling me Jerry told them about my problems with Ava. My indignation abounds.
When I torched his laptop after finding naked pictures of him on it (did I mention him having good reasons to feel superior?) we struggled to find time to talk about it so that we didn't leave any bad blood hanging. Getting a moment alone with Jerry this past year has been horrendously difficult and I wanted to spend the time laughing, not hashing things out, but now I think I should have because every time I start a letter to him in prison I just want to scream. The week that he spent trying to get his laptop back from me was the most he called me in the entire five years I've been back. My first letter finally went out yesterday. It's mostly pictures.
So there's the trifecta. One friend's a fink, one friend's a dink, and one's in the clink.
I thank Bob for my friend Kaela, currently the only person outside of my roommates and their friends that I see on a regular basis, since I think I would have gone insane in the last few weeks without her coming over to watch old Veronica Mars episodes.
Tonight I went out the Dave & Busters for Gabby's birthday party. I walked in thinking about how almost all the girls I've loved cheated on me and some of my truest friends have left, slamming the door on the way out. Then I played video games, which is not a "social" activity, unless you're all playing the same game. I walked around alone and played a LOT of Silent Scope with (I hope) a good sense of irony. I kept looking at 50% of the people there and realized I disliked or hated most of them. Finally, I came and sat down at a table with people I liked. Unfortunately, about five minutes later they all went back to to the Sutterkowski house for drinks, so not really the place for a repentant alcoholic.
Instead I'm at home alone. Thankfully Bill (a guy who I think likes me, but has stated on more then one occasion that he's too polite and tactful for me to tell if he hates my guts or not) drove me home with Brad. I'm desperately trying not to draw any associations there for the sake of my last lingering thread of self-esteem.
Ava's staying the night at her dad's house and I'm all alone. The evening was depressing enough without knowing that friendly people are having good times drinking with each other. The urge to drink was almost overwhelming. Instead I've just spent the past five hours ranting and raving in this Live Journal and now it's nearly time for the stores to stop selling alcohol. Score one for the big guy? Hope so. Still got a half an hour to go.
Still, I wish I could have just called someone else to come over and hang out. Maybe smoke some pot and play some videos games (pot's a poor substitute for drinking, but I should really start having my own stash) or watch the one season of Freaks and Geeks. Does that sound good to you? Do you live anywhere nearby? If so please call.
After writing that line I got up from my computer feeling much better and more self-controlled. I congratulated myself on a job well done. I went to the fridge to get a glass of water or something.
I just found Long Island Iced Tea mix in the fridge.
I'm hyperventilating.
Fuck. This. Shit.