Every guy has that one friend that their wife or girlfriend hates. Maybe not hates, but she just doesn't understand why her man is friends with that guy. Whether her man acts different around that buddy, or maybe its buddy himself, I am not sure. One thing that I do know is that I am usually That Guy.
On the one hand, maybe I get it: I am a big guy, six foot four and 200 plus pounds. I am loud. I talk loud and I laugh loud. I like to drink a little more than I should. I tell jokes that maybe I shouldn't sometimes. I am big and loud and some folks might say aggressive.
But other people will tell you I have a heart of gold. I have a big truck, and I can't tell you how many people I have helped to move. Or pick up lumber, or clean out the garage. If my friends are building it or breaking it, get a case of beer on hand and they have my strong back (and weak mind, HAHA!) to help out.
When Buddy's girlfriend dumped him I went damn near broke making sure he didn't sit alone in his empty condo stewing over it. A few years later I set up all the tables at his back yard wedding, and barbequed the steaks for the reception to boot.
So yes, I am rammy, but I really try to help people out, so I do feel kind of bad that my friend's gals just don't seem to want me around.
The biggest example I can think of is my friend Davey's wife, Stacey. I knew Davey for years! We used to hike in the mountains together, and ski together. Hell, we even went to the same college. While we were in school Davey met this girl Stacey on an out of state camping trip. Every few months one or the other of them would scrape up the cash and make a visit to the others town. She would sometimes come to our classes and hang out just before semester break for example.
Davey was nuts about her, and I could see why: we had the same taste in women, Davey and I. Stacey was a small, fit gal with short blonde hair. She was always dressed stylishly and was just pure cute. She was really nice, and quite friendly, at first.
Like I said, Davey and I had the same taste in women, but as far as I was concerned, "Licked is picked" as the saying goes. Stacey was Davey's gal, and I would knock the block off of anybody who said otherwise! I get protective of my friends I guess, and Davey wasn't what you would call a fighter. He was maybe five eight, but he was a tough little guy. He had been on his schools gymnastics team and always held his own in sports. It's just that he wasn't a scrapper. And I was. Am. Whatever.
Eventually we finished school and I got a good job and left town. I ended up moving to Stacey's neck of the woods, while poor Davey got a low paying gig back home. On the upside I helped him out when I could, with rides and a place to crash when he came to see Stacey. She was still in university and living with her folks, so Davey saved some cash by couch surfing at my place. I would even head out to the pub alone some nights, telling them that I would be gone for no less than two hours for example.
Long distance relationships are tough, everyone knows that, and after a year I was worried for them. When the desk right beside mine opened up at work I could think of no-one better for the job than my boy Davey, and got him on a plane to interview the next day. A month later his stuff was in the back of my truck and he moved into a little apartment a few blocks from mine. We carpooled to work, and Davey and Stacey got serious.
I think it was maybe their wedding, the first time I got an unwelcome feeling from Stacey. I mean, a wedding, my best friend's wedding, of course I had a good amount of the sauce. I know I was loud, and too friendly, but I didn't do anything stupid. No hitting on a bride's maid or motor boating her sister or anything. I guess it was just that Stacey was from a nice family, and I suppose I am not what you might call nice. Maybe I embarrassed her? She wasn't rude or in my face, just very cool. Whenever Davey looked like he was about to sit down and have one of the three or four beers I kept at my table (saves the waitress a trip, you know!) she would swoop in and take him away to meet a second cousin, or an Uncle twice removed or something. I didn't think much of it; I knew that the wedding is the Bride's day and had a good time anyway.
Fast forward a year or so, and I was helping Davey and Stacey move again. This time from their apartment to a four bedroom house. Davey told me as I carried the loveseat that they needed the extra room because Stacey was pregnant. I tossed the furniture aside and swept the boxes out of Davey's arms and hauled him up in a big bear hug! I swung him around, his feet in the air and congratulated him. Stacey came out of the house to tell me to stop scaring the neighbours. I set Davey down, and when she wasn't looking I pulled my emergency pint of whiskey out of my truck and Davey and I had toasts to his success, until he got caught. He came out all hang dog and asked me to unload my truck, and that they would finish by themselves.
I felt bad, but figured that now that she had a 'little' on the way she wanted Davey to be a good stable father, and not goofing off with me.
Years went by, and I saw little Davey less and less. I helped them rip out an old fence and build a nice tight one to keep their new tyke safe in the yard. I helped gut the basement and hauled the drywall when they rebuilt the basement because baby number two was on the way. Always Stacey was polite but cold. I definitely knew when it was time for me to go home, put it that way.
My own hard times came, my own Wife got sick and passed away. I finally heard from Stacey and Davey again. It was so awkward. Maybe young people just don't know how to handle death? The message on my machine was basically 'Sorry for your loss. If you need anything let us know. By the way we are moving back East.'
And that was that. My Wife was gone, my old best friend was gone, and my nice place out in the country was very, very quiet. I didn't hear from them again for a long time.
***
I was digging through the steaks at the grocery store one day when I heard my name called.
"Is that you?" Stacey asked smiling sweetly, "I almost didn't recognise you, what have you done?"
A few years in the service to our country had changed me somewhat. Gone was my shaggy hair and chinstrap beard. I was less lean and more muscle for another thing.
"Ma'm," I said, still stinging a bit, after all this time.
"Wow, Ma'am! That's new too," she exclaimed, smiling and touching my arm in a far friendlier manner than she had shown ever before. I had to admit, Stacey looked great. She was still small and fit, blonde and cute. Her hair was longer than I'd seen it before, it draped down to her shoulders. Her belly was so smooth in her tight fitting top that I would not have believed that she had had two kids if I hadn't held them myself. Low cut jeans let out a glimpse of smooth skin near her hips. Only something around her eyes said that she wasn't still twenty something.
"Are you here visiting your folks?" I asked, being very conscious to sound polite.
"Oh no," she was still smiling, "We are here again,"
"I didn't realize that, when did that happen?"
"About six months?" typical Stacey, I figured. They moved back and didn't even check to see if I was still alive.
