However, in the midst of all of that insanity and hate and confusion and jealousy and hurt a seed was planted that forced its way through all of the venom and blossomed into a friendship that has truly survived the test of time.
Before everything went south, I had moved out of my fraternity house and in with the object of my insanity. Unfortunately, this lead to a distancing from my fraternity brothers. I think I got caught in that 'I'm all happy in a couple and don't need that anymore' trap. I understand now what a mistake that is, because by the time the shiznit hit the fizan, there were very few people 'on my side' for me to confide in. I think alot of that lead to my insanity.
I was crazy. I admit that freely. I was certifiably insane, and am surprised I managed to get through it without hurting myself or anyone else, really. One of the things that resulted from AND contributed to my crazy was joining the performing group that the ex had been a part of.
Spite? Yes. I'm sure now that it was partially out of spite. It was also partially out of obsession. The need to not let go of what should have been laid to rest LONG before. But it was also because through my peripheral association with the group, I met some really Good People that I didn't want to lose.
I made sure to get myself involved in the end of the group that the ex wasn't a part of, and while it seemed to be a good idea at the time, I think that in the long run it served to foster the polarization of the group that became a pretty constant source of friction. Now, I'm not TOTALLY to blame, but I'm sure my being there contributed somewhat.
I joined the group during the spring semester, and made some VERY good friends. People that I'd barely known (because the ex didn't really know them) bonded with me rather well, and we had a great semester. The semester was made even better (at the time) when I learned that the ex was leaving the continent in the Fall to study abroad.
So along came the Fall. I returned to the group a changed man. I'd gotten through the majority of my crazy (with some help), and was ready to face the world, freed from my obsession. Or so I thought. After the first few rehearsals, our former manager (the guy who was in charge of tech) was deposited 'in the garage.' Now, the garage was an awesome place. The garage is where those of us who sang practiced. It wasn't really a garage, but the storage area under the bleachers that was separated from the rest of the gym-like room by a garage door. Hence the name. The folks who (in the eyes of the director) couldn't cut it as a dancer were deposited 'in the garage' to become a singer.
Well, said former manager had wanted to perform this semester, and had tried dancing. Apparently it wasn't up to par for the director (which is actually untrue, because he later proved to be an AWESOME dancer), so she banished him to the world of song.
That first night, I was really wigged out. Said manager and the girl he was dating at the time were the best friends of the ex. My crazy came out of it's storage box and started poking me in the paranoia button. He's here to spy on me! He's here to make me miserable! He's here so that I can't possibly forget!
He was there to sing. And he was good at it.
We were polar opposites in terms of personality, even though I was only three days older than he was. He was the bearded, mulleted axe throwing redneck. I was the goofy, damaged, song singing artist. But somehow we started talking. REALLY talking. And through that talk we started finding a commonality between us, and before I knew it, we were inseparable.
Both of us have changed immensely since then. The mullet is gone, the damage is healed, he taught me how to throw axe (seriously!) and I got him doing theater, where he eventually met his wife. I actually talked his wife into dating him, when she asked me if she should. Wow, he totally owes me. :)
We've also had our share of disagreements. But they're nothing in terms of the friendship that formed between us. He changed my life irrevocably. Hell, he is the one that taught me about good beer. Right there, that has to tell you something.
He's far away now. But that's mostly my fault. His wife is expecting their second child. I miss the days when (even though we lived in different cities) we would randomly show up for whatever reason. But he's got responsibility now. I'd say I missed him, but that would imply that he's actually far from my thoughts. I miss talking to him as frequently as we used to. I miss the laughter at what I now realize were early forms of improv that we'd spontaneously do in the car, in restaurants, or wherever we happened to be. But I know he's there. And I know he cares, even if we only speak every other month.
He has a Live Journal, but he doesn't write in it. Occasionally he'll use it to comment in mine, but mostly those comments are anonymous. He may see this, he may not. Depends on how busy work is that day. But either way, I wrote this for me, and to share with all of you more information about my friends.
Beer God, Brother to a Beer God