I had dinner with my old friend, John, on Monday. I'm just now blogging about it because it's taken me this long to collect my thoughts.
John and I have known one another forever (28 years this June). We have gone through so much together: the death of my dad, the loss of both of his parents and his baby sister, medical problems, new jobs and career setbacks, love affairs that almost worked out, love affairs that never stood a chance.
Aside from "time served" and the accompanying memories, the glue that holds us together as that we accept each other. I'm animated and he's calm, he's black and I'm white, he's gay and I'm straight, he's tall and I'm short. Yet everything is always cool between us. In nearly 30 years, our friendship has never even hit a speed bump because we have the ability to just laugh and relax completely with one another.
Because he is so open and accepting, he often finds himself in complicated situations. Like the one he's in now. I want to just slap him, a la Cher in
Moonstruck, and yell, "Snap out of it!" I hate the path he's on, and I told him so Monday night. But I have to remind myself that he's John. A 50+ year old man with gray in his hair and his beard. A friend who always accepts me no matter how ill-advised my actions have been over the years. He needs an understanding confidant, not a judgmental mommy.
About 6 years ago, he found himself assigned to mentor a new hire. A big kid from St. Louis that I'll call Robbie. Young Robbie acted as though he still had straw in his hair, all "aw shucks" about the big city. (Frankly, this annoyed me; yes, St. Louis is smaller than Chicago, but it's certainly not as rural as Dogpatch!) John found himself flattered by the way this much-younger man looked up to him -- professionally and personally. Eventually Robbie began getting flirtatious.
At this point, John was a middle-aged gay man who had endured quite a few broken hearts. He told Robbie straight up that he wasn't willing to be "an experiment." If Robbie wasn't committed to a gay lifestyle, he should do his erotic exploration elsewhere.
But John and Robbie still worked together, still had lunch together, went to movies together more than once, and the line started getting blurred again. The sexual tension between them intensified. John found himself daydreaming that this kid was finally The One.
Then Robbie dropped a bomb. He had met a girl at one of Chicago's outdoor summer festivals. They had only dated a few times, but now she was pregnant. Robbie barely knew the woman, but he wanted to "do right" by her. Soon a wedding was in the works. John was heartbroken.
Robbie insisted that he needed an older man's friendship now more than ever. Robbie was scared of marriage and fatherhood. He was confused about his sexual orientation. He didn't have many friends in Chicago, and his nearest family was a pair of grandparents in St. Louis. He pleaded with John not to abandon him.
One thing led to another and John and Robbie finally indulged in some sexual play. I don't know how far they went actually, but it doesn't matter. Robbie also persuaded John to lend him money and buy him some coke.
After he got the coke and the cash, this poor, confused country boy turned into a thug. (Like you didn't KNOW that was coming.) He said some very threatening, very ugly things to and about my friend. Now working together was unbearable. Happily Robbie left his position shortly after his baby was born. Whether or not he ever married the baby mama is up for debate -- I ran into Robbie months later and he talked about his wife; he told John they never made to the altar. Whatever.
For the last 4 years, John has heard
NOTHING from Robbie. Until last week.
Robbie left John a message saying they had to speak. John asked me what he should do. I said erase it and move on.
John met him.
Robbie has no friends, not a one. He's also unemployed. He's living in a motel, but soon his money will run out. He can't leave Chicago, though, because he can't bear to be away from his son.
They are back to having dinner and going to the movies again. (Guess who pays.) Robbie has apologized for how he treated John and is back to implying that they can be more than friends. "You were the best friend I ever had … Why didn't I appreciate how wonderful you really are? … I wish I'd stayed with you … A day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought about you …" Barf.
I told John how incredibly awful idea this is. I said that the ice is thin and the sun is warm, and they're going to end up in bed together and then Robbie will suddenly remember he likes women, and John will find himself with less money but more heartache for having let Robbie back into his life.
"But, Gal! He's all alone! Completely alone! He's just a few steps away from sleeping on the streets."
Good, say I. Robbie just discovered where his seat is on the karma train. Besides, he can go back to his grandparents in St. Louis. I don't think people like Robbie ever actually hit rock bottom, anyway.
That was Monday. Yesterday and today our conversations have been limited to the play John is going to and the Caylee Anthony case. He hasn't brought up the subject of Robbie, and neither have I.
Which is not to say it's not
KILLING me! You have no idea how much I hate this. But John and I are equals, two adults who respect one another … and one another's opinions. He knows how I feel because I was pretty blunt about it. He hasn't asked me again, which means he doesn't need a refresher course.
I'll just wait here. Waiting for the emotional explosion that's about to happen in his life again.
Poor, dear John.
Tatiana is soooooo obnoxious when she walks, talks, cries and squeals. Yet when she sings, she's awesome. Go figure. She's not only a good singer, she makes good TV, so I'm glad she made it to the next round.
