I Am Not Lord Voldemort

Today I had a really neat realization. Something that I had long considered to be an impossibility for me is a reality. When I was in High School, someone was asked "If you were holding the wrist of _________ and the wrist of _______ and could only save one person from falling off a cliff, who would you save?" I thought about that question, and in my self-centered high school way, I thought "Who would pick me in a choice like that? At least over all their other friends?"

That was a bad question to ask.

I thought about it. It's unfair to ask of family, even though I have a cousin who is as close to me as anyone, and a couple others I love a lot. I knew that the girls I was friends with all had a girl who was a closer best friend, and even if they didn't eventually they'd marry someone else. I didn't have a whole ton of friends that were guys. At that point in my life, I came to a strange realization. I had lots of close friends. I knew that in a time of need I could call on many of them. Even if one said no, I always had more friends. That was the realization I had. In the midst of all my friends, I was ultimately kind of alone. Even with many loyal friends, no one truly put me first as a friend.

I was Lord Voldemort.

In my mind, a best friend was someone who would call and tell me when they were dating someone, even if it wasn't very serious. A best friend would be the first person to come visit you after something terrible like having surgery on both your knees.They might even bring you Jones soda.A best friend would move heaven and earth to attend your wedding.A best friend would be someone you trust enough to have to make flirtatious comments about your wife, and not have it be (very) weird. After all, my wife is super hott. A best friend would be someone who would call me just to talk. A best friend would be  the person that when anyone says, "Who is Scott's best friend?" the answer would always be the same. A best friend would be so many things that you could make cheesey lists like this forever, and you'd never hit bottom.

And then a funny thing happened today. My best friend called me. I realized today that even though he hasn't always been my best friend, he IS my best friend.

We met in 6th grade. He had hit puberty like 10 years earlier and had a deeper voice then than I have now. He had about a dozen pins sticking out of his leg from a horse crushing his leg. As time went on, he got more sensitive about his hair. We liked several of the same girls. We always played opposite one another in our High School plays (Grandpa Joe with Willie Wonka and The Hero vs. the Villain in our Western Melodrama). We have shared hundreds of inside jokes, we've never been in a fight to speak of. I discovered that he giggles like a 10 year old girl when caught off guard by a tickle. We wrote letters to one another on our LDS missions. I've been there for him through a lot, and he me. And he reaches out to me.

My deep voiced friend? He's truly my best friend. It was a nice realization today.

Friends In Name Only?

Friends, and what they are, and how we feel about them as defined in today's world is a complicated thing. The only way someone can really answer the question, "How many friends do you have?" is based on their social media right? As of this moment, I have 748 Facebook friends with another one pending. That seems so silly to me. How can a friend be "pending?" Who is to say how someone can be a good friend, or what that even means? We try really hard to figure this sort of thing out so we feel secure in what we have in terms of relationships with others. As humans, we're social creatures more so than any other living thing.

I want to add a wrinkle to what perceptions we have about friends. I'm also going to call this friend by their real name.

I have a group of friends who I met as a teenager because we had a mutual interest in reading books by a particular author. We met over a summer, and we would meet together every day, and talk about the inexplicable things that pop into the minds of fifteen year-old youth. We decided to come up with a name for our own little group of friends, and called it the Muffin Club. Super original. Muffins are right up there with bacon, monkeys, cheese, the word "random", and a handful of other things that 15 year-olds think are funny for really no reason. So through this summer, and surprisingly as time went on, even though we didn't go to the same schools, we kept the MC alive. 

The group consisted of me and about four girls. I thought I was SO cool. One of these girls, Eponine, would end up becoming one of my closest friends. We talked regularly, and out of all the people in that group, she and I were the closest. to this day, we still keep in excellent contact. We dated for a little bit, and I was actually the first boy Eponine ever smooched. That didn't end too well, but she forgave me, and we went back to being friends. I went on an LDS mission, and she consistently wrote me good thick letters. In fact, on the toughest day I had when I wanted to quit and punch my missionary companion squarely in the nose, I got a really encouraging letter from her. She went on her own mission to Russia, and I wrote her all of twice. So that was four years of our lives where we didn't see one another.Since she came back we were attending schools in different states, I was married, and the only time we'd really talk was at 2am when I was working graveyards, and she would type in Russian while I practiced writing in Chinese. We didn't see each other again until last week when I met her at the school I transferred to.

I should also take this time to mention that we met online. 

Yep. It's true. This nice girl was one of those people who went by a screen name (Eponine) for the first several months of "knowing one another." We were talking about it, and we've spoken face to face less than ten times. Yet she's one of my best friends. When we were talking face to face the other day I realized things I never knew about her. She communicates a lot with her eye brows. Her hair had been cut much shorter than I remembered it because I'd really only seen it in pictures for the past several years. Her laugh sounded different than I had remembered, or maybe just imagined it in my head. 

I also contemplated on the fact that she's never "been there" for me, nor really I for her. I've never called her when my car needed a jump start or when I needed a ride. If I had a date back out on me at that last minute, which happened all the time, I never called her. She never invited me to her shows. One of the few times I set her up on a date with someone I knew, it ended up being her second-cousin. 

But our friendship is still legitimate. I think what makes her such a good friend is the fact that we share ideas, and we talk. Even if long spaces of time go by we still have a friendship we can fall back on. That makes me happy.

-Scott

As a PostScript, the last blog I wrote, the one about burned Bridges? I sent that blog post and a "Happy Half-Birthday!" post to the person I wrote it about, and she read, and responded, and is talking to me again. We're even Facebook friends. Never give up on friends.

Burned and Broken Bridges

For the first time in the life changing and ever impressive history of my blog, I'm writing about someone who doesn't talk to me. I've written about old friends who I don't talk to as much as I like. That's not what this is. I've written about passed on loved ones. That ain't this either. I have even written about a Mortal enemy who  redeemed herself in Phoenix-like fashion. I hope someday I can write that story about this friend, but today isn't that day.

This friend is someone who I've known for 10 years. For me, that's a really long time. It's about as long as I've known anyone except for my deep voiced Butler, my first childhood crush, and a really short girl whose hair I used to pull. Those are three different people who all deserve their own posts -- but I digress.

This friend, who shall be heretofore called "Bridget" was in my health class in seventh grade. She was cute, and I was awkward as has hopefully been made clear to this point so I can stop saying it. She was also super sweet though. She had a bright tinkling laugh and really bright eyes. She's probably is five feet tall in shoes (though I haven't seen or talked to her in nearly four years, so I'm not sure) and never grew after seventh grade. I learned later that she played guitar and sang and had many talents.

The event of how we met can be summed up in one word that, if she ever reads it, already knows is coming. Bridget was reading out loud from our health book and said the word, "Heredity" which she pronounced "Here-ditty". I laughed and repeated her. She blushed and then kept reading. Somehow that worked, and we became kinda friends at that point.

Over the next five years, we were in plays together, and we went on a couple of dates. We were buddies, and pretty good ones at that. She and I talked on the phone regularly, and we kinda liked each other on and off, but it never really clicked.

Bridget also had her share of unfair breaks. Some guys that she dated were not good to her. She had some unfair breaks in her family life. She was always that girl with a heart of gold that wanted to love and be loved and never take anything else too seriously because sometimes life just stinks.

So what happened to us? As best as I can tell, it was one argument. It was over Facebook  It was with a group of people. It was over something political. It was also the only time we ever fought. It was right before I left to be an LDS missionary for two years so I didn't hear from most people I knew, and wasn't shocked that she didn't contact me during that time. Missionaries don't use Facebook call home/leave their area, or things like that while they're gone. Their contact comes in form of e-mails to parents once a week and letters from those old fashioned and caring enough to send them.

So she didn't write me. It happens.

What DID happen was she started living her own life. She married a guy much different from myself, but one who, by all appearances takes care of her. He seems a little scary looking, but I think that's what he goes for. She's going to school. They work worked. She stayed fairly static to what I've known and written about her, and, really, I'm pretty sure she's happy. Her life followed the path of what I probably expected the longer I knew her.

What I didn't expect though is that when I came back, she wouldn't let me be her friend. We let our 2nd grade music teacher and our Jr. High Acquaintances mother be our Facebook friends, but she wouldn't let me. She didn't have the same number, and she was married now, so it's not like I could call her. Every once in a while she runs into one of our mutual friends, and I invariably get brought up. She validates the fact that she stopped being friends over a Facebook disagreement. She mentions to them that she's "thought about" getting in contact with me. And every time, I just wonder why she doesn't do it.

I called her Bridget, because in this gap we've created, I'd like to "Bridge-it." I know, I know. I don't need to be best friends again. I don't need to be invited over for dinner, or have your child named after me. I'd like to be able to talk though. I'd like to be able to wish you a happy Birthday, or to tell you when I'm excited about something. We have so many similar interests, and stories, and I don't want that all to be wasted. I think somewhere inside, you don't either. Please let go of whatever stops you. All I want to know is...

Why can't we be friends?

This Is A First.

Many times I've said, "This person is not the love of my life."

As much as I like all the people I write about, and I do like them quite a lot, no one compares to my wife. I have in the past not wanted to blog about her in this sphere because there's no way I could do justice to describe her. However, I realized that I can spend lots of time talking about how great she is. So all you ooey gooey touchy feely readers of my blog, be prepared that I've now come to terms with including the occasional post about my wife. I think these will be shorter because I have more of them to do, and I feel that these should be more specific rather than long and tangent laden like my other blogs.So I want to talk about three of the things that I really loved about my wife at first.

First, this may come as a shock to many of you, but I happen to tell a lot of stories. I talk a lot, and when I talk, I tend to forget that sometimes people don't know who "Amber, Bones, Jess, Q-Bear," or any of the hundreds of people who have impacted my life are. I can't just rattle off names like "Sullivan's, McClelland's, Ogles'," and expect people to connect the dots of who these people are that have spanned the whole course of my life.

With one exception. From the very first date we went on, and ever after, my wife Natalie has remembered my stories, and laughed at them. When I would tell stories later and say, "So I was out with Danny on this horrible double date" she would say, "Danny's the one who you do the pistol thing with, right?" I love that, and really need it.

Secondly, some people think it's rude or something to consider someone a "trophy wife." Natalie really is. My friends who don't know her say, "tell me a little about Natalie." So I always give off a massive list that scratches the surface of her accomplishments. It goes something like this: "She plays viola, violin and piano. She was a national qualifier in speech and debate. She dances clog, ballet, ballroom and a little bit of other things. She choreographed an award winning piece. She was the top of her class. She's had two A minuses in her LIFE, and none of them came in college. She's beautiful, and funny. She acts, sings, is my best friend and wins at games ALL The time." That's just the basics of my complex and wonderful wife.

The third thing is something that has happened later, but it makes me so proud every time I hear it. I have, on a couple of occasions, had friends tell me that they want their future marriage to be like ours. That doesn't happen without my best friend.

So for today, that's the little bit you get to know about my wife. More to come, you know, all in good time.