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Tuesday, July 17, 2007

A Big Him Hug ...

... today at the Kinkos by my work I ran into an old friend - slash - nemesis of mine. Ricky, the legendary "Big Him" that I've been writing about since the first posts in this blog all the way back in 2002. I was mentioning him in the first two or three posts on this blog. To put that in perspective, this is currently post #696. So Ricky and I go way back. I'm talking back when I was waking up at 5am every morning, doing an eight hour shelving shift at my new bookstore, coming home at 3pm, sleeping for three or four hours, waking up, showering, going out with my brother and our gang and drinking and smoking until 2am, somehow drunk driving back home, staying up playing video games and talking shit, then passing out and starting the whole ball rolling again. I had all this youthful strength and unchecked anger and I used it to drink and fuck and party my ass off through 2000-2002 in Phoenix, then arriving here and closing the bar every night. I didn't care about anyone else but me and I drinked like I wanted to die, which probably wasn't far off. Ricky, the "Big Him", and I became involved in a nasty piece of drama regarding a woman that still haunts me to this day. A few people know about it, friends of mine and old friends and my wife and hazily remembered friends who have long since passed. And longtime readers of my blog. However, for those of you who don't know what the fuck I'm talking about when I say The Big Him, I have crazily compiled an exhaustive list of links to blog posts of mine from 2002-2003 that pretty much chronicles the Big Him/Little Her Saga. Here you are ...


1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18


Reading these posts back as I have, it pains me. I was such a different person back then. I was angry and immature and drunk and lonely. I wasn't in love as much as I wanted someone to be in love with me. It's easy to date a married person. If you're dating a single person you have to be charming and witty and well off and mature and funny and attractive and smart. You have to be better than every other single guy in the world. If you're dating a married person, all you have to do is be better than one person: the significant other. Collyne didn't want to be with me. If she did, then why did she break up with me five times? She just wanted to be with someone other than her husband and I was lonely and drunk, so I was suckered into this strange little triangle that broke my heart repeatedly and cost me a shitload of friends. Ricky was angry at me. Fuck, he had every right to be. I shouldn't have done what I did. I just wished that at the time he would have realized that it was less my fault as it was hers, that I was the one being dragged into this pathetic drama shit storm. I broke up a marriage, yes. That's true. But would it have stayed normal if I hadn't fucked it up? No. It would have been somebody else and some other situation and she would have found somebody else's heart to break. I felt that I was used and to this day I still do. Yeah. Big drama. That's so not me now. Now I'm a family man with my head tightly screwed on to my shoulders. I read to kids and I'm a daddy and I watch the same damn Dora cartoons over and over again as I cook dinner for my two amazing daughters. To think that I was so self-destructive and drunk and angry and depressed and suicidal, a million times away from the happy person I am now. I have such a deep, shameful dark side that I hide from everybody. God, I just wish that I could go back and track down that leather jacket-wearing drunken 26-year-old and tell him to stop trying to kill himself and start living. But that's impossible. Ricky and I had a violent parting of the sensory. There were some heated words, a lot of them less than pleasant. But reading the posts over, there is one MAJOR thing that is lost in the mix. Ricky was a near and dear friend of mine. That doesn't come across in the posts. We would drink and party and the next day at work I'd get made fun of by our big bitchy receiving manager Q because I'd have a neck covered with hickeys. What I never told anyone was that half were from Her and half were from Him. He was in love with me. I forget that. He loved me as much as Collyne said she loved me. He was always there for me. When Debby broke my heart and left me alone in Sacramento, Ricky was there to pull me out of my suicidal pit when even my own family wouldn't bother to help me. As much as I was frightened by the memory of him coming to my work and trying to kick my ass and threatening to kill me, I really do owe him a lot. Before our drama triangle burned a ton of bridges, he was one of my closest friends and he loved me and I miss that.


We hadn't talked since sometime around 2003. Then this afternoon after sad storytime I walked into the Kinko's to make copies for our big Harry Potter party and I saw him. Ricky. Apparently he's been working there for about three months and in all the time I've been making Captain Book trading cards our paths had somehow never crossed. God. Seeing him was like a pleasant punch to the stomach if that's possible, the last thing I expected. Talking to him, putting my order in, and then walking back to work, I was nervous and frightened and scarred and excited and stressed out to the max, not the right frame of mind to be in when my sprained neck is killing me. I cranked up System of a Down on my iPod and punched every steel post I walked past with full force. My middle finger on my right hand is still dark purple and swollen. I worried that the fit was going to hit the shan again, that the drama was going to come back, except this time Q wasn't there to step in and break up the fight. At 3:15 I told my manager that I wanted to go to Hot Topic and look for Potter stuff. That was true. I also wanted air and some time by myself to think. On my way back to the store I made a conscious decision to walk around the back of Kinko's. And, in typical Steve luck, guess who was having his last break? Yeah. We talked. It was frighteningly easy to slink back into friend mode. We talked about being fathers and Dora the explorer and spanish and Harry Potter. He was more into Harry Potter than I thought. We talked about who we thought were going to die. Yeah, Harry's totally dying. I don't care what my brother thinks. I said the same thing about Neo. If he's the chosen one, then he has to die.


And I was the one who told him that one of these days we should go out for a beer. And at the end we shook hands and he gave me a hug. It felt good. I feel like such a massive weight is lifted, like some big huge invisible plotline has just come full circle. I'm feeling good.




I know this has been an epic, heavy ass post, so to clean the pallet here's some wack ass youtube videos ...













1 comment:

Wifey said...

I am proud of you my love.