The other day Grillman called me about some chick he's seeing. I've brought it up before. But before I get to that, I'm going to give a little bit of history, because when I think about my friendship with him I almost want to laugh at how great it has turned out.
I met Grillman while studying abroad in Japan, we had a lot of common politically and socially. He was also the kind of dude that could spend hours talking about whatever interested him and liked open discussion on those ideas, so of course we hit it off like crack-cocaine. - I'm still in rehab. - Things we specifically shared in common were guns, huge breasts, and blowing shit up; however, when those things weren't enough we would end up - more like a beginning to me - usually talking about the quality of life. But isn't that the point of any healthy long lasting relationship?
***
The phone call from him yesterday was around 9:30 or 10:30 am - I can't really remember, - "Dude if you were here we'd be going to bar right now." He said tersely. "Well, why not just drink with me on the phone?" I said, realizing breakfast downstairs was going to be Steel Reserve High Gravity Lager 211. - I pronounce the "211" as "Two eleven" so does everyone else. - It says "EXCEPTIONALLY SMOOTH FLAVOR", but it's everything other than exceptional and smooth. At 8.1% ABV for a dollar a can - thank you Wally's World, - I don't think I should complain too much. It should be called "Steel Reserve High Gravity Lager 9.11: because it's that depressing to drink"
He continued, "Dude, she just left, but she's coming back. She said she wants to come over and make me breakfast." "So like dick in a box?" "No, I mean she's just coming over to hang out, she's pretty conservative about that kind of stuff." "What do you want? I mean, are you dating or anything?" I asked. "Actually I think she's having a hard time dealing with her recent break-up. And that's why she's is afraid to call me her boyfriend or give us a label, and also I think she's holding back from sex because if we don't work out and she goes back to her ex-boyfriend she can say 'I didn't have sex with him.' Fuck dude! I don't even know." "Why don't you ask her then?" "I will!"
I opened the can and took a sip. It tasted like full blown battery acid that had been blended with pig vomit and stale cat piss. "Have you confronted her about this?" "Yeah I have." He said without reservations. "I told her not to fuck with me, and I'm not going to play any games." "You know I've also had to say that before." "My situation isn't as fucked as yours." He quipped at me. "Fair enough, but if it's just fun and games WHY are you investing real feelings? Either it's all the way or fucking forget it."
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| Not an accurate representation of white people or Grillman |
"Hold on." he said, as I heard his faint voice bullshit over buying something. "You still there? I got Miller High Life." "I'm sorry." "Dude no way, it's worth the extra price compared to your shit." "Mine's at 8.1 ABV dude, for a buck a piece, it's worth it." I lied to him. It's not worth it all the time, but for how I'm feeling now why not? Of course this also explains why it sat in the fridge for 2.5 weeks before I was able to drink it for the second time.
"Anyway, she's just taking things slowly and I'm not sure if she knows what she wants." "But you know what you want?" I asked. It was like I was talking with myself. "Uh, yeah." We surfed the conversation until the waves and sun died down, and then we went back on the beach. Giving each other the verbal version of a "Same-time next week?" face, we hung up only to talk again later in the evening.
This morning, I sent him a text, "How do you feel about your situation w Constance?" "She just left.. made me breakfast like she said...seriously I am about to move on her to see what she does..." Of course we both knew he's talking about making a sexual move to expand upon the relationship. No healthy relationship that is intimate exists without physical contact of some sort, even if it's just stroking someone's head or hand on a shoulder. Unfortunately, unhealthy relationships can and do exist with tremendous amounts of physical contact, just ask anyone who sleeps on the bottom bunk in a super-max prison.
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