Being an adult sucks.
Kids, put it off as long as you can because once you start acting like one, everything changes. I’m not saying to be irresponsible or a fool. Do all the cool stuff that comes with being over the age of 18 but don’t buy into the “adult” mentality. It sucks all the fun and awesomeness out of life.
You start forgetting what inspires you. You forget how to have a good time without booze. You stop appreciating the small things. Having wonder in the world around you goes out the window. You forget how to be open and love. You start pontificating about bullshit. You wait to speak instead of listen. You accumulate baggage and don’t know how to let it go.
Last week I got schooled, yet once more, in how bad it sucks to be an adult.
There are only 3 people in my life right now that I would go to hell and back for. Two are childhood friends. One of them basically told me that we can no longer be friends due his dating situation. The amazing amount of sadness and heartbreak that I’ve been feeling is overwhelming. I could see how horrible he felt as he told me this. She has never met me. Quite oddly, I saw this coming.
But nothing really prepares you for the blow.
It’s like being in that scene in A Fish Called Wanda where Ken rolls over Otto with a steamroller while he’s stuck in the concrete. I was stuck in the concrete of my own shock, unable to move my feet, just nodding, smiling, and as the steamroller of his words and the look on his face crushed me , said:
You’re in love.
I’m okay, really…
She’s important to you.
I’m happy you’ve found someone.
You have to do what you have to do.
I was good. I didn’t cry. I try not to in public especially when I’m at a fundraiser. I kept my game face on and did my best to keep my emotions in check. Because that is what adults do. Since I get to see him only a few times a year these days, we kept talking like nothing had happened. I wanted to enjoy probably the last conversation I would ever have with him. I wanted to remember each moment.
Then it hit when I least expected it. My fidgetting and looking up at the ceiling failed my eyes and I wept a little. It was the thought that I might never see him again and if he married to her, I probably would not be invited to the wedding. Not seeing someone because they are dead is one thing. Knowing they’re alive and healthy and wondering how they are but you’re not allowed to be friends anymore…hurts more than you can imagine. I tried to quickly wipe away the tears. I tried to force myself into a different emotion. I prayed to a mericiless Universe to not let him see those tears.
Of course my prayers fell on deaf ears.
That moment went by like 50 years. It was just a few tears but it felt like they just wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want to be sad. I wanted to part ways with a smile on my face and happy he’s in love. We’ve known each other over 20 years with ups and downs. We grew up down the street from each other. Our mothers were friends and worked in the same factory. He saw me get married and divorced. He was always there, even when he wasn’t physically there. This is NOT how I wanted it to end. Not this night and definitely not the friendship. After I quickly wiped away the tears, it was the reassurance again:
I’m okay, really.
No really, I’m okay.
I just got a little verklempt.
Just like the adult I’ve learned to become. We continued catching up and discussing as we have for the past 20 plus years.
I went dancing later that night. Promised myself that I would go at least once a week to shake my groove thang from now on. It used to be the best way for me to figure out life. Just the music, my thoughts, and my friends. He used to be my best buddy for going out dancing. Not that night and never again. That night I let the music drown my thoughts. I allowed it to silence everything and just take my feet and body on a journey out of myself. That was the last place I wanted to be: inside my own thoughts and emotions. I wanted solace from this storm. I wanted to just curl up, be held and cry for a while. Since that wasn’t an option, dancing was my best bet.
All you readers out there, I hope the last words you say to one of your best friends never has to be this:
“I love you. If I never see you again, I hope you have a good life.”
I’d still go to hell and back for him.