Wrote this yesterday afternoon after a phone call from a friend I hadn't heard from in years...
Just got that call that everyone dreads. That call that reminds you that this life is far from a permanent thing and that one person you used to know, well, you don't anymore because he's gone for good.
I kept thinking as she was talking there was a time that would have been me. Hell, when I met him, that was me.
Massive heart attack, she said. He'd been sober for so long. Somewhere along the way he decided fuck this sobriety shit.
Met him in a gay club in a gay town in Delaware. Saw him with a redhead at the end of the bar. Couldn't stop looking.
He walked over to me. Excuse me, are you looking at me, or are you looking at my friend?
I'm looking at her.
He walked away and I heard him say to her, you bitch! I told you if you came in here eventually you'd meet a straight guy!
I went home with them that night. She passed out after telling me she had a boyfriend. I ended up getting high with him that night.
For the next month we got high and hammered most nights. In that time I learned that a good looking gay man is the best wingman on the planet.
After a month my leave was up and I had to get back to base. Never once worried about getting asked to piss in a cup. I was bulletproof.
The next couple of years consisted of weekends partying together, dating his friends and often behaving in an ill-advised manner.
I don't remember who got sober first. I think it was him. As much fun as he was high and drunk, he was even better sober. He built a life, bought a home, relished in the beauty of living.
For ten years he was that way.
And then he wasn't.
Before too long the life he built was gone. And now, so is he.
Hug someone today.
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