The Last Time I Fell, part 1

He became my fourth, and final, unreturned love.

But long before that, he was one of the best friends I had.

I was so lucky.

And then so unbelievably stupid to walk away from his friendship, even when he asked me not to.
--

Strangely, most of my good friends ended up being from classes younger than mine.

He was another guy from the freshman class when I was a sophomore.

I met him, along with The Kid I talked about before (I’ll just call him “The Kid” now) at about the same time.

My fourth was kind of a polar opposite to The Kid. The kid was, well, like a kid – a little shorter than me, slight but toned and athletic, quiet and contemplative as often as laughing and playing with the jock crowd.

In contrast, number four was tall, lanky with a lean musculature, very outspoken and boisterous and he had an enormous sense of humor. I loved his laugh. It made me want to laugh more.

I remember being astonished the day I realized he actually was being friendly with me.

We were all sitting at a table in the cafeteria (The Kid was there, too – this was before I crashed and burned with him), and talking about random shit, as usual.

Something I said made him laugh so hard, and he shouted out, chuckling:

"I like you!"

No one had ever simply said that to me.

"Really," I tossed out.

Not buying it, I assumed this was just a line to reel me in and slam me down with an insult. Yup, that's how my brain worked.

"Well, yeah!" he said, with what seemed like genuine concerned confusion. "Hey… you don't think very highly of yourself, do you?"

"I dunno. I guess not," I muttered.

And he responded with certainty, "I really don't see why."

That touched me right there.

No, I wasn't falling for him.

But no one had ever said that to me either – other than my parents, and you know that doesn't count.

So I decided to trust him a bit.

We hung out in a casual way a lot. Talked about shit and drank alot, me listening to stories about his friends and their endless quest for booze in the teen years, some of his girlfriends, and so one, and me talking about… I can’t remember what I could have possibly said that interested him. But it did.

We weren’t really into the same music, but he did get me liking Jane’s Addiction. I associate “Jane Says” with him.

I started smoking because of him. He was a big-time smoker.
But I needed no peer-pressure. I wanted to be more part of his world. So out came the smokes.
--

There was the day I knew I was just happy to be around him

It was common for people to fall asleep on the couches in the main TV lounge.
Once, we both fell asleep – actually, passed out – late after some Saturday night drinking. The next morning, my eyes opened to Bugs Bunny cartoons on the TV – the real good ones from the 30’s and 40’s.

I started chuckling at some classic Bugs-in-drag-foolin’-with-Elmer bits. At the same time heard him deeply laughing his cigarette-raspy laugh while laying on the next couch over. We looked at each other laughing and I realized we really liked many of the same things, some of the simpler things.

We both liked to laugh.

I felt like, "it would have been great if we'd grown up together."

There was a connection I had not expected.

And no, I was not in love.

I just felt like I'd made a friend very different from those people that would normally even speak to me.

And he liked me because, I guess, I was likable. Who knew?
--

Now, around this time, the whole thing with The Kid started brewing up.

And the day which crystallized the respect for my tall, charismatic friend was the same day I first fell into despair while in college.

When I realized I was in love with The Kid.

When The Kid had left my room, with no words of affection.

When I was angry and lost, aimless and sad, vulnerable and alone.

And I said about that moment:

There is a side story – the only reason I didn't simply cry myself to sleep and die was because of another budding and unexpected friend who forced his way in that same night and roared at me…

This is that moment.

I was experiencing the worst feelings of helplessness, so far, in my life.
This was the beginning of despair.
I just sat their balled up, quietly letting the tears flow.
I realized I'd once again hooked myself to a lost cause.
And I wept some more…

SLAM!!!

Someone had kicked open the door with his booted foot so hard I heard the door gain a permanent crack hitting the wall

"What the fuck is going on with you!!!"

"What?" I mumbled, wiping my eyes on my knees.

"Fuck you, what! I have never seen you like this before! What the hell is wrong?!"

My tears dried up from the shock.
He was pacing around my room in his heavy boots, cig in his mouth.
He stopped.
He was wide-eyed and angry

“Talk to me!”
--

It clicked in my head that he cared enough to be this forceful about my well-being.

And it was true that he had become a friend that I respected and felt I could trust with certain things.

But not this. This was forbidden.

I wanted to tell him, but I knew he would just turn around, walk out, and never speak to me again.
--

My eyes clenched shut and I shook my head.

"Damn it!!! You're a great person even if you don't think so, and I don’t like seeing you this way. What… Is... Wrong?!?" His boot stomped on the floor.

I wasn't talking.

"Fine! You know where to find me!"

And he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
--

It was this performance that solidified my affection for him.
He really cared.

No, I wasn't in love.

I just felt, even in this painful time for me, I really had a good friend.

I could never bring him into my world completely, but I was so glad he was there.
--

But then, a year later, I began to fuck it all up.

There was a special moment in the future that could have turned this into a really special friendship of understanding. We could have become even better friends with him understanding I was gay. It might have been the closest relationship I could have had, outside of a lover.

But, in classic fashion, I brought ruin to that potential bond.

I destroyed it.

And that was just the beginning.

(See Part 2)