Friends

I was just on the phone to an old friend, a friend who I will see later this week and he said something profound and interesting. He said he is my only friend who has never hated me.

It's kind of true too.

Even his wife has hated me. Although, I am pretty sure she does not hate me now, or today. But trust me, given time, she will hate me again.

It is a given, or certainly was, and that is a funny thing. It's not like I ever set out to make people hate me, especially in Seattle. Something about the liberal hippy culture has never quite meshed with my abrasive personality. Seattle is filled with people who love to agree with one another, so when I would say something the least bit controversial, it would lead to a bad vibe argument and me being asked to leave.

Then for a while I dated a drunk and that was not pretty because drunk people, while funny to watch, are often strange and hateful, and since I have a tendency to make hate a hands on sport, being around drunk people made it even easier to hate.

It's an interesting moment, returning to Seattle, a place where I made babies and good friends, and a place I left with a sense of shame and disconnect. I am hoping to reconnect with some friends and avoid others, but in the end, my neurosis makes me think about scenes that will probably never happen. With so many people who have hated me in my life and remain my friend, I have to think that no matter what paranoia and goofiness filters into my head, visiting with people I like should be easier than say, winning over the homo baristas at the coffee shops I plan to once again frequent.