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Relationships are a funny thing. I don't mean just girls and guys. I mean anyone. And I don’t mean acquaintances. I mean the type of friends you expect to know for the rest of your God-given life. The type that aren’t afraid to tell you you’re being a fucking moron, the type that stick around when your ass is getting dragged in the mud, that actually listen and respond to everything you have to say. There’s not a lot of these sorts of friends around but they happen. I feel bad for the people that don’t have friends like that. I feel bad for the predictable people, those boring cliché archetypes – the bad boy who won’t call, the slut who can’t get it together, the college drop-out working at his parents’ business, the thirty-year old single guy who acts half his age, the teen girl trying to be twenty-eight, the gossip-talking getting-wasted-every-weekend credit-card-abusing mommy-hating spoiled rich easily-offended over-sensitive immature grudge-bearing child of some other lost backwards generation that went out of style in the nineties. They’re like slap bracelets and ’76 Pintos – I take a look at you and I’m thinking, “They still make you?” I feel bad for these people because they never grow up and never have friends. The real ones. I have to thank a lot of people all the time. Face to face, or at least in my head. Ted was never afraid to tell me I was screwing up. He would tell me that the last resort is to walk away. Which means, if I screwed up too much, he loved me enough to walk away so I would force myself to get it right. I remember when I kept floating back to Jennifer even though I knew she wasn’t good for me (and to be fair, I wasn’t good for her), and about the tenth time I went back to her, Ted walked away. He said he wouldn’t be friends with a guy that couldn’t keep his own word. His purpose was to fix me and I knew he would come back, but then I knew he wouldn’t come back if I didn’t fix it. He had every right to walk away and I never got mad about it. If I was in his position, I would’ve walked away earlier. I remember when I helped this girl for a couple weeks after she broke up with her guy, but then she floated right back to him. I was upset as hell. I told her that too. She actually laughed at me. She said, “Don’t care so much, it’s my life.” How many times have you heard that sort of fucking bullshit? If I’m her friend, I’m supposed to care, and it’s not just HER LIFE.
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