If you’re in a relationship and you haven’t listened to this song with your significant other with or without clothes, you need to do that right meow.
That Night, at the Reunion, by the Lake
- Him: So, you're a "missus" now. How's that going?
- Her: Oh, it's pretty good. He's a great guy. Makes me laugh. He's just about the best thing I could ask for.
- Him: But?
- Her: But, what?
- Him: But you could ask for more?
- Her: No...it's not that. I mean, he's everything I want, it's just not what I thought it would be. I know the honeymoon stage is over, but I thought there would still be some sort of madness running through me.
- Him: Was there ever?
- Her: Well, yeah. We had our crazy moments, our fights, our impulsiveness, that jolt you get when you're with someone...but it's like I have to try for that now, you know?
- Him: No. I don't.
- Her: Why are you being like that? I thought you said you were happy for me.
- Him: I am. I am. But I don't know about trying for the jolt. It was never about trying for me. It either was there or it wasn't. You just can't force it or hope that it shows up one day.
- Her: So <pause> was it-was it there for us?
- Him: Always.
- Her: Always?
- Him: Always. Never a doubt. Never a second guess. You were always in my bones.
- Her: Don't...
- Him: I'm just telling you the truth. You asked and I answered. I'm not being romantic or jealous. I'm being honest.
- Her: It doesn't help.
- Him: Then what are you doing?
- Her: Why did you stop fighting?
- Him: That's not an answer. Don't change the subject.
- Her: Please!
- Him: Why? Because if I kept fighting, chances are I'd lose my sanity. What was the point in fighting for someone that couldn't see what they had in front of them?
- Her: I was scared! It's not like I meant to hurt you!
- Him: But you did. You meant to cut things off. You were scared and you didn't want to face the reality of the situation, so you ran away to another city, got a new job, new friends, new distractions and you didn't bother to confront the fact that you left pieces of yourself behind. And now you have a new life with a new boy and a new name! And you don't know where you are because you left pieces of yourself in a box I threw out a year later when I realized you weren't coming back! I can't go back there. I picked up my shit and moved on! Don't bring me your marriage's dirty laundry just because your husband can't figure out how to work your washing machine's dials, or yours for that matter!
- Her: Why are you being like this!?
- Him: Because when you fight for someone, you only end up fighting with yourself... and I don't need a rematch. I sincerely hope you're happy, but I can't do this right now.
A Thank You in the Wake
What do you do in the wake of a suicide?
One of the funniest, smartest, and compassionate friends I’ve ever had has taken his own life. Last night, authorities found his body sitting in the driver seat of his car in the garage of his house two weeks after the time of death.
There was a note and his identification left on the dashboard.
I don’t know what he was going through. The last time I had heard from him, he had texted me from a new number 2 months ago, and I had meant to add his number. We had communicated back and forth over the course of two days and that was the last I heard from him.
I still have his text in my inbox.
Why is this death so weird? Upon first reading the news a former coworker sent, I sat at my desk in bewilderment and disbelief. His method was calculated, deliberate and peaceful. He knew what he was doing. He always knew what he was doing. He was always happy and cheering other people up before this tragedy.
Roughly three years ago, I went through a bad breakup. Possibly the worst breakup of my life. We hadn’t dated long, but for whatever reason I was head-over-heels-irrationally-in-love.
The end of that relationship registered like her death in an earthquake that I was to blame for.
It sounds a little over the top and dramatic, but love is like that sometimes.
I had started my first job out of college in San Antonio, Texas as an “adult.” I met a good deal of people that meant well, but I never quite felt like anyone ever seemed to totally understand where I was coming from. I was wracked with an irrational and illogical pain and sadness to the point that I often drifted in and out of “reality.” There were some days at work that I think I just sat and stared at my computer for hours in between meetings and doodle sessions. There were days where the only person who I wanted to talk to was the girl. I thought she would be the only one to understand and through making her understand, I could get her back. But a lesson to you all: no one wants a sad boy. I learned that from my friend.
Through after-work dinners with coworkers, I met some jerk named Steve. He and I got along immediately because we treated each other with such sarcasm that most people interpreted our snarky exchanges as a mutual contempt for the other’s existence.
Steve and I started hanging out at work and outside of work. We talked about music, women, literature, comedy, movies, relationships, everything that concerned young, single men.
Steve and I checked out girls together the way most socially awkward guys do around the opposite sex - with failed attempts to hide our awe-struck faces. Any time we saw a beautiful woman he would say “Relaaax,” and heads would turn.
He was the only one to stay up late with me on my 24th birthday to make sure I had a good time. Steve and a few of my guy friends would go downtown together and have drinks and laugh until we nearly pissed ourselves. He and I were known as jolly giants at work in a company population of 20,000 plus, myself being 6’3” and he at 6’10”. When we walked down the massive corridors of that government compound and laughed so loud that you could hear the echoes a quarter mile away in the next indoor courtyard, four stories up, laughter bouncing off the glass, marble, metal and concrete.
He helped me get out of the worst bout of my depression. I don’t know if I hid it or if people were just in denial of the state I was in, but I was in the thickest fog of my life, wanting to disappear until things got better. It was as if no one really seemed to notice. A family doctor said I just had a bad breakup and that my slump would go away, but a vacancy that exists for a whole year and takes a few more months to finally dissipate is not just a slump. (Not all doctors are bright) Steve, on the other hand, listened to me and told me his stories, he being the “wiser” at 33. Through some sort of cynicism, he made me realize that I was lucky and that whether I realized it or not, I was not alone. No one is ever truly alone. Steve was one of most genuine, compassionate, and understanding human beings I have ever met. Through our talks, I started to become comfortable with where I was and where I needed to direct my thoughts.
I wish I had called him up after those texts to see how things were at work and if he really was moving to Portland, Oregon like he had said he would. I know that my actions may not have changed the outcome and that he could be sitting down in the drivers seat for the last time a few weeks later. I only wish that I could have helped him whether he realized it or not, that he too was not alone.
I don’t know what happens when we die. I don’t think anyone truly does. There are things beyond our existence that we will never know or understand. But if there was some way for him to know I’d want him to know this:
You were my closest friend in a city of strangers.
Thank you, Steve, for saving my life.
