If I had to choose someone to spend the rest of my life
with, it would probably be Mike. We got on real well when we first met, and
we've got on well since. He respects me and he gets me; he laughs at my
jokes, and is the first one to call me out on something stupid I've done.
He's not afraid of me. Not that people generally are, but most of the time
they're at least in awe. I mean, fucking look at me.
But Mike wasn't. I could have been anyone. I just so happened to be the kind
of guy he liked to hang out with. We golf. And talk on the phone. A lot.
Seriously. I was probably the first person who spoke just as much as him only
didn't think it was queer. See, that's the thing. He's so fucking quiet, but
he rambles on for hours. You'd never think that, just looking at him.
Everyone knows I like to talk; they assume that just because Mike is quiet
that he doesn't. He's just selective, that's all. Not necessarily with his
words--he's no poet. Jesus fucking Christ, Brett, and fuck and uhh... this
chick was like and uh, fuck, shit, man. But he doesn't say that stupid
shit to just anybody. He's private.
Private. I hate that word. Because it makes it seem like he has something to
hide. But he doesn't. He's the most open person I've ever met. He doesn't
have time for bullshit, which is why he rides my ass all the time. My
bullshit amuses him, and annoys him too. The thing is, if you know Mike, then
you really know him. He doesn't hold back. Instant trust. Honesty. Those are
some pretty scary words. Which is why he finds himself in these situations so
often. People don't come across guys like Mike that often; it scares them. So
it's easier to strike first, to take advantage of him. Because nobody wants
to end up looking like the sucker. Because this guy can't really be
like that, right? It's all just some elaborate trick, right?
He guards himself more each time, but it's his nature to fall victim again.
He can't really help it. Though he tried. Tried real hard after that summer
with the cup.