There are some awesome things about being a guy. The ability to laugh at farts, peeing standing up, and being ultimately cooler than chicks. But the best part about being a guy is making friends with other guys. Sure, girls as friends are usually more understanding, compassionate and thoughtful. But don't fall for that. They're just baiting you so they can eventually suck the life from your masculine body.
So about two weeks ago, this new guy, Pong, started at my work. I couldn't tell if I liked him or not. I thought he was cool, funny, etc. But in the back of my mind, I kind of thought something about him made him seem like a dick. But he was cool. What was that little voice telling me?
Then I realized. I figured it out. I solved the matrix on how we knew each other. I asked him if he knew why we both seemed so familiar. He didn't know.
KC: Are you ready to get your mind blown?
PONG: Go for it.
I said a name. A female's name. A name that used to mean everything to me, but now reminds me of how I was a whipped little bitch. And the name did the same thing to him.
PONG: Holy shit! You're THAT KC?
KC: And you're THAT Chad.
It turns out, we dated the same girl for a combined six years. He served four years in her service before me. I only managed two.
That little voice telling me what a dick Pong was happened to be all the stories I know about him, told by my (excuse me) "our" ex—who isn't the most reliable source of information. However, some of the awesome stories are true.
KC: So you're the guy who gave her Sea Monkeys on Valentine's Day?
PONG (nearly having a heart attack from laughing so hard): I can't believe she told you that.
KC: Dude, you know for the rest of her life, she's going to remember Valentine's Day as the day her boyfriend gave her Sea Monkeys. The rest of her life.
PONG: Well, she shouldn't have skipped Steak And Blowjob day.
KC: I felt your pain brother.
PONG: So you got stabbed defending her honor?
KC: Yeah. Kind of.
PONG: How so?
KC: I didn't really get stabbed. Just slashed. And you know, her honor isn't really that honorable.
PONG: Did she ever try to correct your grammar?
KC: “Try” is the main word of that sentence.
PONG: Why try?
KC: I worked as an editor for years. I graduated with an English degree, then a masters in journalism. Plus, my folks beat me with a rubber hose for saying stuff like "ain't" or "brang."
PONG: But of course, she always thinks she's right. I hated that shit.
PONG: I was pretty sure I liked you before. But now we're like blood brothers.
KC: Totally.
PONG: You know, her and I are actually blood brothers.
KC: Gross.
PONG: Yeah.
KC: We almost got matching tattoos. To show our eternal love.
PONG: How'd that work out?
KC: I chickened out.
PONG: Good for you. In my opinion, she's totally ruined her figure with all the tattoos.
KC: I don't think I'm responsible for any of those…
KC: I almost kicked your ass one time. The only time we kind of met before this whole working in the same place thing.
PONG: I was just at the bar! She acted like I crapped in her Kool-Aid!
KC: Didn't you guys have a dog?
PONG: No. SHE had a dog. I bought HER a dog. For HER. Because SHE wanted one. I told her it was a huge responsibility. Her responsibility. Her dog. She said she'd take care of it. So we picked out a dog, for her. When we broke up she dumped her dog on me like it was my fault.
KC: What about…
PONG: Don't even get me started on those damn flying squirrel things.
KC: We should find her other ex-boyfriends and start a club.
PONG: I think she only dates dicks.
KC: Um…
PONG: Besides us. Of course.
And like that, we've become instant best friends. It's like when two WWII vets or guys from Hell's Kitchen meet for the first time completely by accident, but from their shared experiences they know all the same places, history and bullshit.
So during our hangout sessions, we usually drink a lot. Which is how I received this text at noon:
PONG: Effing Rumple.
KC: And Jager, Beam, a three o'clock toke and whatever else we did. If we're going to keep this friendship, we're either going to have to slow down or buy spare livers.