AJRMAN
A good friend of mine
I am a Manager of a restaurant. This means I am Tyrant, Clown, Therapist, Mediator, Mother, Father, and Friend. A lot of responsibilities for a Thirty year old. I work ten hours a day at the least. Not much time for anything else. Thank God I have friends. A good friend of mine, has been that for the past ten years. We met in High school, where he was a "New Waver" and I was the "Prep" with a girlfriend. My first and last girlfriend. She was such a whore, I loved it. We made out everywhere, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I wasn't attracted to the girl as much as I was attracted to the role I was playing in the relationship. I was the Man and she was the Girl. In my head, this played out like a good John Hughes movie. You remember those, don't you? The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Some Kind of Wonderful, and Sixteen Candles. We broke up after the Prom, where she predictably "put out". Memories, such lovely times. This is the time I met David. I thought he was weird, because he dressed in black and had long hair. We we're both on the speech team. He went to another High school in the same city. We didn't meet again for another two years.
I worked as a Manager of Crown Books. Even at 19 years old, I always assumed the leader role. I befriended a girl there, her name was Lillian. She had a friend named Michelle. Lillian and Michelle were friends with David. David had picked Lillian up to take her home, and told her that he knew me. Lillian had a crush on David, and at the same time, thought he was gay. Needless to say I wanted to meet David. I manipulated my way into a night out with them. We all played pool, and I met the infamous David. I did remember him, but he had definitely changed. No more the weirdo, he turned out to be such an adult. A year younger than me, but I still found myself looking up to him. He dressed preppy now, while I dressed dark. He had a nice sports car, while I drove a hatchback. He smoked, while....I guess, did not. He was able to drink at the bars because he looked and acted older. I wasn't attracted to him as much as I wanted to be him. He liked weird music, knew where all the hip spots were, and had style. By the end of that first night, I began my tasteful and costly habit of smoking. I enjoyed the buzz so much, I smoked three packs a day. That brought me to a stay at the hospital, because I couldn't breathe one night. I now smoke one pack a day, if that. I know, I know, still not good. But hey, I'm addicted and plus I look really cool smoking. Of course that's a joke.
I have been through David's ups and downs of relationships. I was there when he met his first boyfriend. That relationship lasted one year. The day after they broke up, I took my friend out to a club. He had to get back on the bike and try again. Little did I know he would meet someone that night, and have a two year relationship. How fucking depressing is that? I am forever single, and he gets men at the drop of a hat. My relation to David seems to be the role of the ugly best friend. If he wasn't such a good guy, and friend, I'd dump him for my own personal "Ugly Best Friend". If a such a thing was possible. I'm the first to admit, fuck yeah I'm jealous.
Today I go to meet David and his new boyfriend. David always seems to want my approval on his guys. I never get along with his boyfriends. They are always rich, cultured, and deep in the gay lifestyle. I always feel like poor white trash. Which isn't far from the truth, if you've ever seen my family. I never dress in Gucci, or Donna Karen. I'm not even sure if that's how you spell her name. I wear baggy Levi's and Vans. Dressing up for me, is wearing a Polo shirt. The sad part is that when I do wear Polo shirts, along with ratty jeans and Vans, my friends actually do ask "Why all dressed up?". Okay, time to put on my "Dress" shirt and get a move on.
I met David at the Burbank mall. We planned to take one car to the restaurant where his new boyfriend would be. We took one car because I have no sense of direction. No sense of style and no sense of direction. Was there any doubt why I don't have a boyfriend? We drove to some Mexican restaurant in North Hollywood. It was a dive, but I guess "Dives" were the new thing in Los Angeles. It was crowded with beautiful people, all dressed in casual chic. The first person I met wasn't David's boyfriend, but "Boyfriends" best friend. The friends name was William. Not Will, Bill, or Billy, just William. At first glance he was attractive. I extended my hand to shake his. He shook my hand firmly and proceeded to look me up and down, with a disdain look on his face. Didn't this idiot know I could see through his blue tinted sunglasses?
We walked across the street to the restaurant and saw "Boyfriend". Another good-looking stylish guy. Why would David bring me here? Did he want to see a gay man cry? David introduced me to Stephan. Not Steve, or Stevo, just Stephan. Sounds like "Steven", but I guess the "PH" makes it more exotic. Good-looking guy, about my height, but more muscular. He's the Vice President of some cologne line. I wouldn't know the name, because it's just Zest soap for me. The four of us went inside and sat on the crowded patio. When we sat, the three of them reached into their pockets and pulled out a cell phone. They put it on the table at the same time and began to laugh. I reached into my pocket, and pulled out lint. I didn't think my "Lint Bunny" would make a good impression sitting on the table next to their cell phones. This was going to be a long night.
They all ordered Margaritas. I ordered Coke. Ever since my twenty-first birthday, I have never been able to keep down liquor. We ordered our meals and began to chat. They began to chat, I must say. I just sat there with nothing to say. Like I said before, these people were the "Pretty" people of Los Angeles. I obviously didn't belong. They talked about the "Industry" and other stuff I had no relations to. To make things worse, an ex-employee of mine saw me, and called me by the wrong name. How embarrassing. Could my life be anymore pathetic? From experience, I think yes it can. As the minutes dragged, my self confidence became nonexistent. I saw at that moment how truly different my friend and I are. But I'm his friend. I don't have to be his boyfriends friend or Boyfriend's Friend friend. Does that make sense? Oh, who the fuck cares? In my crazy mixed up mind it makes perfect sense.
I must start to dress better, and look more my age. What's wrong with following? I tried for years to be my own person. But that certainly hasn't worked. I want to be part of the "Pretty" crowd. Is that so wrong? Maybe, but it seems to be an easier life.