What happened to that curly haired little boy I used to know?
What happened you ask? You really want to know what happened? After at least sixteen years, but you seem to think about me like how I was when I was eight, so split the difference and call it nineteen years, so after nineteen years you're finally concerned about me? About how I am now? Fine. Let's talk about the little curly haired boy you used to know.
That little curly haired boy moved to a different country when he was ten. He had never been on a plane before, but he loved it. Except that he got a little bit sick on the landings. His dad taught him how to fish while he was in that foreign country. It became one of his favorite things to do because he could spend time with his dad. That little boy got his first computer. He picked up a joy of reading. Of riding bikes. He took karate lessons. He got the chicken pox. He learned to play the trumpet.
That little boy moved again. He spent time with his grandma for a while before he moved, but that had to end and ended too soon. He was across country on an island in the middle of the ocean. He learned how to skateboard. He went through a hurricane. He learned about skater culture and nature. He became first chair trumpet and learned what it was like to hate a teacher.
He moved back to the desert he was living in before you met him. Or at least before he met you. It was the first time he realized what leaving a friend was but held out hope that they would meet again because it's a small world right? He made friends. Deep friends. Friends forever friends. He suffered disappointment at not making the basketball team. He had his first feelings for a girl. Deep feelings. But he couldn't separate those from lust and he couldn't talk to girls, so he passed them notes and got laughed at. He learned he sucked at the trumpet but was great at the tuba. He learned that band kids were considered geeks. He was made fun of. He learned he wasn't cool. He learned that he was an outsider. But he found music and hobbies that resonated with him. To his core. He learned computers through those hobbies. He became a Christian. Albeit a fearful one.
He moved again and finally, for the first time, felt the weight of loss of friends. He couldn't just make new ones to replace them. But he could make new friends. He made new friends through video games. Through a love of the same TV shows. And because the girl in the seat near him was painfully extroverted. He made many friends but was still an outsider. He learned what it was to not be black enough. To talk white. To lose respect among your peers for succeeding and to have a teacher truly have it out for you. But he also knew what it was to gain respect from those that mattered for being you. He had his first relationship. He didn't handle it well. He had his first break up. He didn't handle that well either. He learned that friends will betray your trust, but that those that betray your trust aren't your friends. But he didn't have his music to fall back on because the school didn't have a band program.
He graduated high school. He invited you. You didn't come. That's fine. You were busy. A gift, a card, or a phone call would have been nice though. He also got into college. Picked the easiest one he could get into but still. 3.7 out of 4.0 GPA and 1380 out of 1600 on the SAT. It was a proud moment.
In college he got his first job. It was seasonal and he was not hired on full time. That was fine though. He joined a club. He met friends through that club. It was a nerdy club but he felt at home. He found out that he loved nerdy things. He fell in with a not great crowd through his club. He started drinking under age. He also got food poisoning.
He got another job though. He was able to save up money for his brother's high school graduation gift. He bought his brother a graduation gift. So did you. And cards. It was upsetting but I got it. Graduation was a foregone conclusion for me and not so much him. And you were always really close with him. I gave him my gift. I love my brother.
I fell in love. It caused a lot of drama though. A guy wanted to fight me because I “stole his girlfriend”, but that isn't at all what happened. In fact we didn't start dating for a year after they broke up. He was a shit head though so fuck him. I was president of my club for two and a half years. I dated this girl for 5 months. Maybe six. Lost my virginity at age 21. Whatever. Broke up with her when she went off to another college. Hurt her, hurt me. I was an ass hole.
Coasted into a pseudo-relationship. I was really drunk and really high. She made out with me. Didn't last a week. We maybe had sex. I don't know. I was drunk and high. Those years are kind of a blur to me because I was basically in class, playing Magic: The Gathering, drunk and/or high. I worked the same shitty job through the rest of undergrad.
At the end of undergrad, found a girl I liked. Went on a date with her. Got drunk. Fucked it up. Sought out a shrink. Found another girl. Took up D&D. She broke up with me. I got drunk and threatened suicide. I sought out a shrink again. She told me call the suicide hotline if I ever wanted to talk. Didn't have to want to commit suicide. Never wanted to in the first place to be honest. Ex dates my “best” friend after a week. I knew he liked her. Asked him to wait a month before dating her. He didn't. He also actively broke us up. He is a dick. I called the suicide hotline. I got picked up by the police and brought to a mental hospital. I do not blame the suicide hotline. They are helpful. I blame my shrink for telling me, a heavy drinker, to stop drinking in a time of emotional turmoil and to call the suicide hotline to talk even though I had threatened suicide before. A large part of that is on me though. I was an asshole and too proud to get help. Please get help if you need it. It probably did save my life.
Anyway. Almost failed a semester. Doctor's notes saved me. Got on anti-depressants. Be warned, they will help you A LOT, but there was a period of a couple months where I had no motivation at all. That's why I almost failed. Failed one class. Retook it. Got an A.
Got into grad school. 3.0 GPA, 1380 GRE. Kept same shitty job from undergrad, but looked for others. Found real group of friends. Love them to death. Got into board games and table top RPGs even more. Had shitty roommates in an apartment that stole my shit or got it stolen. Stopped trusting people. Never got a card or call or anything for graduating college. Neither did my sister for graduating. Explained a lot. Though to be fair I didn't get her anything for graduation either. I didn't know her well enough and I was broke.
I got fired from my shitty job, hired on to another, and fired after three months. I missed a lot of days because of dentistry and I play a lot of computer games because the job was bullshit. I drank a lot during that time, but I got a better handle on it. I stopped drinking hard liquour and started drinking beer. Almost exclusively.
I moved to Utah. I started blogging about beer. I started drinking too much again because Utah kind of sucks. I loved my coworkers though. And I had friends. Not close friends but they were there. I started going to the anime club at the local college and started playing board games and table top RPGs with them. I cut back on my drinking because life was a bit easier.
Until I got furloughed. I worked for the government and lost 20% of my pay for 11 weeks. I maxed out all of my credit cards just to live. So I started looking for, and found, a better job.
I moved back to Florida. Kept blogging about beer. But I was making enough money that I had alternative choices to drinking myself into oblivion to entertain myself. Also I was closer to my family. Until they moved across the country. It was my fault because my mom was trying to transfer to be closer to me in Utah, but she kept the transfer so she could help my grandma.
That hit me kind of hard, but I liked where I lived so I just grabbed my stuff out of their garage and took it with me. I moved later, but that doesn't matter much.
I made a friend who had a baby and grew to love their baby. I dated women and it didn't work out. But the one thing that got to me is that I joined a beer club and missed a meeting I really wanted to go to. Because of anxiety. Because you probably don't know but I have a phobia of vomiting and it got bad to the point that I would leave home with a stomachache. It upped my drinking which made the phobia worse. I told my doctor and found a shrink and now the medicine and the therapy is helping a lot. I drink more than I should but I am trying.
But you know what? You didn't see that. You saw someone failing to live up to your expectations. I will, and did, admit that I drank to much at your Christmas Eve party. I was belligerent. I was an asshole. But I was also in an uncomfortable situation that was hitting my anxiety on all levels and I told you about that and you didn't care. You weren't there for me. I also woke up perfectly fine on Christmas, but you didn't tell me when dinner was. I was an hour and a half late to Christmas dinner.
Then after we got back to your place, you confronted me about drinking too much at your Christmas Eve party. Saying you didn't know me. That you couldn't stand me.
Well guess what. It's true. You don't know me. If you did, you probably wouldn't be able stand me. But don't you dare for a fucking second try to put that on me. You had every fucking chance in the world to try to get to know me. To be there for me. And you absolutely weren't. So until you are ready to get to know me. The real me. And to accept me. Good bye.
PS: You can claim that you have gay friends all you want but while your husband is a homophobic church pastor and your friends are similarly homophobic, I will never believe you.
