“Bring an expensive present; you have to bring an expensive present,” he said of his forthcoming third marriage. “And I’m seating you at a table with my fiancé’s family; they’re fundamentalists and you can tell them how Jesus was a fraud, insult them.”
This fellow is a professional who over this 57 years found himself tossed from partnerships in three major firms because he couldn’t keep his fly zipped up, nor the whiskey from his lips. A few years ago he skated on some major charges, though his career fell to shambles. He does alright now, but not close to where he was and his potential.
I told the fellow that my wife and I were on our way out, which we were, and we could talk later. (We went to see “Hot Tub Time Machine. I’ll see anything with John Cusack and this was quite enjoyable, albeit silly and I enjoy silly.)
When we returned, I sent my “friend” an email with the subject line: “R U really getting married?” It was rather a serious question as he’s marrying a woman more than 20 years younger who wants children.
His response to my email was: “Since your broke and therefore of no use to me just assume that the invitation was a mistake.”
I did assume that he was “in his cups,” I had stood by this person for years and up until then – most, if not all of his old friends simply considered a pariah. As an aside here, I’m not broke, but though I have a thick skin, I found myself uncharacteristically insulted.
I’ve always felt that those who are drunk have there inhibitions significantly reduced and say what they really believe. I responded to his note simply, “OK.”
For the past couple of years, in speaking with this fellow on the phone (he lives in another city), I’ve felt exhausted afterwards, as those conversations amounted to tirades regarding politics and society. They were discussions as I could barely get a word in, as they say “edgewise.”
His conversations were always tinged with an “Oh poor me, I haven’t got any money.” The fellow owns a house in a rather upscale area and pieces of three homes in a major city. His ego precludes him from changing his lifestyle, or at least accepting the forced change in his lifestyle from a reduced income.
Over the past couple of years, more often than not I could tell he’d been drinking. When I lived in the city in which he resided and I was single, we used to go out for drinks regularly. In retrospect, it occurs to me that he probably is a person termed a “functioning alcoholic,” though who knows for sure.
I’m not sure he was ever a close friend, or even a friend. Nor am a sure that he believes my wife and I won’t be attending his wedding.
I am sure, however, that the non-attendance will end whatever one might term our “relationship.”
That will be a relief.
I’ve pretty well concluded that approaching 70, I’ve not the time to deal with this sort of person, or issues that I cannot control. Certainly, I can intellectually discuss the latter, but I can also back off at my convenience. I figure I’ve earned that privilege.
So, with that goodbye to my acquaintance and all the best in the future.
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