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| Robert - 2014 |
"The only way to have a friend is to be one." Emerson
The regret I have most at this point in my life, is over all of the missed opportunities to accept offers of friendship. I have never been one to strike up a friendship at the drop of a hat, making the easy conversation that brings folks into my intimate circle. Have always been astonished at how easy some of me mates have make long lasting friendship based on clever chat at a party.
Do not feel sorry for me, dear reader, as I would be quick to remind you that if memory serves correct, I am not without me charms to get folks to venture toward to meet. I doubt that I was shunned ever, and I have known a few in life that never seem to have had folks like them.
Events in early life had trust knocked out me and it was and continues to this day to be the single main reason for folks not getting through to me. The reasons for that are a story not suited for this piece and will have to be re-visited at another time.
Friends and Friendship has been on my mind since I have been laid low with me lame leg. It got me to thinking of folks I have known and what they mean to me and how they might think of me were I not to be here anymore. Not trying to be morbid, stay with me, it does get better....
I have been loved and loved. Had the great good fortune to have made some truly great friendships along the path of life. I have been touched by some and would like to think I have touched. As with all things, there are the moments that stand out, and it is one friendship that I would like to share with you. I have thought to tell this story, just did not know if I would do it justice and wanted to give you, the dear reader, more clues as to why I am what I am. The telling is much helped by a very long conversation had, benefit of having massive amount of time on hands...
In the dark period that followed the death of my partner I cut myself off from friends known for ages. It was as if I wanted to limit any contact with the world I knew when I was most happy. It suited me for some time to drag a coffin behind me and wallow in self pity. I brushed off all efforts to contact me and rebuffed any attempt by folks to make a personal connection with me. It was as if I was willing myself back into the days of my youth when every person met was view with a jaundiced eye. Desperately I wanted to believe that I was not worthy to be loved, much less liked as an agreeable chap. Looking back, I am not very proud of meself and wish that I could take back some of the hurt I caused.
Had it not been for John, my partner, doubt seriously I would be among the living today. In so many ways, he saved my life. I can not state too strongly how his love and willingness to understand me gave me the opportunity to feel a part of life. All of the bad memories were locked away in a closet in the very back of my mind. I came to realize that I had driven off many a fine person, and in doing so denied self the ability to grow. Would that I could meet some of the folks who would have made a difference in my life that I tossed into the rubbish bin. Life does not always allow one to take back things, you just have to live with the regret, more's the pity that.
When I met Joe, it was at time when re-joining the human race was most important to me. Having checked out is so many ways, I had just sleep walked through more years than I care to remember. Joe was not the sort of person one would have thought someone like me would ever meet up close and in person, much less become lifelong mates with. That is the real shocker of life, that the best gifts received come from a quarter least expected.
Right, I am wordy and need to get on with the story........
Joe is younger that I am, comes from a background entirely different. One could not be more opposite than meself and Joe. He came from a large family and tried to live up to the expectations of that family. There was anger in the family, Joe feeling that much of it was directed at him and this drove him away from his family. In leaving the family, Joe set out to try and make his mark in the world, something that proved to be more difficult than he would have guessed.
Joe was no great student and dropped out of high school and not having a trade made due with a series of jobs that were never top drawer. Several attempts to connect and start a family of own did not work out well and that drove him further away from where he was born and had family. He was all alone in the world and about to find out just how mean it could be.
California is like a beacon to so many like Joe, offering the hope that opportunity is better here than elsewhere and folks are more free in thinking. Must be the reason why so many still strike out for California, hoping to find gold here.
With much free time, Joe found self spending loads of time in the park and it was here that he entered a dark period of his life. While he sat in the park, he noticed that men were meeting other men, leaving with them. There were several times that he had been approached by older men to go home with them or to come back to a hotel room with. At some point the battle was lost and knowing that it was not a good solution, Joe entered the dark world of 'rent boys', men for hire for sex. He did this all the while telling self that it was a place to sleep for the night, another meal, a little cash to get ahead with. After more lean days than he cared to remember, the brief encounters seemed no big deal and he willingly sold his body to one and all.
I must tell you that it is hard to understand why this happens. Not sure there is ever a good reason to sleep round just to get some cash, a room and some food. The idea is not original, have heard many, male and female, justify 'prostitution' as an acceptable act to starving. Even after the need is gone, many continue due to the easy cash and possibility to have loads of sex AND get paid. Joe was not one to make being a 'rent boy' his life's work and after six months the lifestyle wore him down and he let it to try and make a living legally.
With effort, jobs were found. Some worked out for a long spell and others did not last long enough to remember what they were. Joe was not at peace with self and was still searching for answers.
The search took him into the world of drug and alcohol abuse. One or the other could have easily done him in, but it did not. It did rob him of a purpose to his life and after a spell he just gave up entirely and gave himself to one long party of drugs an alcohol. Like most parties, this one ended at some point and when it did Joe was no longer the bright young thing but a man getting older by the day and showing the wear and tear of the mis-spent years. It was after sleeping behind a rubbish bin, waking and searching through for cast off food that the light went on in Joe's head and he realize that it was 'time to get on with living or make ready to die.' Joe made the call that life was more preferred than death and he got help.
If one overlooks the fact that being a 'rent boy' is illegal as is the buying of drugs, Joe did not break any other laws that placed him at risk. He was very proud that his slumming had not got him arrested for crimes and a stay in the nick. Somewhere deep down, Joe had managed to hold onto a part of his dignity.
I first met Joe in a social setting. He went out of his way to try and shock me with stories of how wicked he had been, daring me to turn away and not continue having contact with. Under different circumstances, I might well have given him what he wished for. What Joe did not know was that I was a wounded soul as well, knew full on the horror of trying to overcome events from the past. I was also tired of being alone.
No, this is not the story of a late romance in life. Joe and I are extremely close mates but it is a pure friendship. What Joe needed, what I craved sorely, was a sense of purpose again, and in becoming mates we gave each other support to try and sort out the days ahead. I got engaged in doing volunteer work and giving of myself, Joe got life sort out and finished one programme after another to keep his former life gone.
In the sunset of my life and middle of Joe's, we both have managed to thrive. Marriage for Joe did not work out and he has resigned self to fact that he more than likely will never marry again.
To many who are not 'au fait' with me, I come off as a prude. More than that, as extremely judgmental and unaware of how hard others have it. Am too quick to loathe folks for living a horrid life. There is not much that surprises me anymore. I know that drugs ruins everything it touches and that there are people that have given up and believe that it is easier to blame society for their failure to get their lives sorted out. My dear friendship with Joe has taught me much and I offer no apologies for feeling as I do about some things.
Dear reader, the story told did not come out all in one sitting. It was over time that Joe told me more and more of his past. Testing the theory that if one is truly a 'friend' one can bear to hear the truth. More to the point, if one is a friend, knowing dark secrets will not be used as ammo in a spat, hurling the sins of the past at the friend. I too have shared my secrets. Like Joe, I believe that it is only in telling all that one lets a person in. Mind, it is not the sort of thing one should do lightly, but suspect that it is the reason marriages last through time, the tow in the relationship know all there is to know about each other. The bits and pieces that are important.
However lonely I feel at times, I know that I am not alone. There are folks that care deeply about me and love me regardless of me faults. The battle I wage with meself is that I am not so sure that I have the courage at times to keep going. During the lows, I remember Joe and the gift of his friendship he gave me and I smile and march on. In many ways, Joe was my opportunity to pay back so many who I met and should have stopped and got to know. I will never know how many wondrous gifts I have denied self.
If there is a moral to the story told, it is that I have tried to re-invent self the whole of life. There is more to this old book than the battered cover, what stories are on the pages.
I know not the hour of my death. Like to think that it is years off. Joe has made me come to embrace the view that each and every day counts as if it were the last, meant to be lived to the fullest. I asked Joe recently what his regrets were. He told me he wished our paths had crossed years sooner. What a lovely thing for one to say. I might add, the feeling is mutual.
