...
He's an idiot.
I've known him ever since pre school, in a little place called Gingerbread. That means, both he and I turned 25 this week, we've known each other for more than two decades.
Over that span of time, our intertwined lives have been a sordid affair seeping with inadequacies, summer camps, and sleepovers with zero sleep, if you know what I mean.
^-_-^
In a totally non homosexual way.
We're not gay.
...
Through our elementary school years, Alex would master a technique we have all learned he epitomizes.
Being terrible with women.
For some reason, elementary school girls treated Alex back then much like middle aged divorced women treat me. With chasing adoration.
During recess, they would play Boys Vs Girls, which always, always resulted in three girls chasing Alex. Given that their options included stellar selections such as a 120 pound Asian 10 year old with glasses (read: me), I wouldn't say that Alex was any more suave back then.
Just, you know, decent.
Now any intelligent young man would naturally take this opportunity to use his limitless charms during these formative years to become a hunky playboy of a man, but
1) Alex does not have limitless charms, and
2) I said intelligent young man.
3) Also I said man (zing!)
So, without a thought, Alex spend the rest of recess running away from the girls. Hell, until this day I've never seen a guy so bad at picking up women he might as well be running from them. At least that way, they get to see his fine, fine behind....
Also we are not gay.
Like any good friend, I've spent a good amount of time being his wingman. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, a wingman is a military aviation concept where another pilot (the wingman) offers an assist during a dangerous mission. Nothing short of sacrificing himself is under the duties of a wingman to ensure a successful mission. In these cases, the wing man was me, and the dangerous mission was trying to get Alex a girl without getting arrested for trying to solicit prostitutes.
The wingman in dating concept in men arises directly from a female behaviour that dictates that any attractive girl in a social situation is always accompanied by a fat ugly best friend, likely to make the attractive girl even more comparable to David Poon in terms of raw beauty.
One year, Alex brought me to Victoria to hang out with his grandma Good times, though (like with any Alex Grolle interaction) it would obviously end in horrific hilarity.
We were at this club (after Alex heroically got scared by a bouncer at a separate club), were we saw:
A beautiful, auburn haired white girl, slim profile, blue eyes, and delicate facial features that were just sharp enough to pierce the heart, but remind you that she will never break it.
as well as...
her fat ugly best friend.
^-_-^
Like I said, Alex has zero skill with the ladies.
So like any good wingman, I prefer for doom.
I ask the FUB friend to dance.
She hesitates.
I scream silently.
The beautiful girl tells the FUB friend to go ahead.
I open my arms to go around her.
Then I open my arms a little wider.
I think I settled for the shoulders after the fourth attempt.
But I did it. The beautiful girl was free.
And then....
... without a thought, Alex hides behind some black guy. Another man 30 seconds later comes in, dances with the beautiful girl, and I think they make out later.
If we keep up with the aeronautic metaphor, this would be the equivalent of the wingman crashing directly into the enemy army, leaving the base exposed, while the heroic lead pilot ejects, takes a taxi back home, and watches Denzel Washington movies with his grandma.
I hate you Alex.
At least I would, if I still had the ability to feel after the night with the FUB friend deadened my senses to the world.
Though honestly, I guessed I probably owed him one. He did save my life once.
When we were kids, he and I annually went to camp. Sometimes science, sometimes sports, one time even art.
Take a guess which camp I didn't do so well in.
During sports camp, we had to do drills in swimming. As a fat kid, and as Newton would dictate, that meant I was a hazard. I mean, I could have worn a tshirt in the pool to cover my man boobs and avoid bullying, but you know, I'm not THAT fat.
(At least until I met girls...)
I remember when some kid grabbed my head and held it under the water. I didn't know how to swim. It was scary cause I didn't know what was going on, and you know, I was drowning.
I was screwed.
I remember Alex grabbing me, pulling me back up, and saying
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah... you saved my life!"
"Yeahhhhh...."
Turns out he was the one drowning me. Without a thought, he figured it was just having fun.
WHAT EXACTLY IS FUN ABOUT GETTING SCREWED WET BY ANOTHER MAN!?!?!? (Nothing because I'm straight!)
Somehow I always get in trouble with him.
In grade 11, there was a dance to find out who would be elected to high school student council. When I won the election to become president of my high school, I was with my girlfriend at the time, and Alex. JUST BECAUSE I accidentally kissed Alex instead of my girlfriend in my excitement, my ex got pissed off.
At me!
Can you believe it?
Just cause Alex has pretty lips!
Bastard.
He's always like this; one time, in grade 7, we were skiing on these things in Saskatchewan we call slopes (which are actually pretty close to piles of snow taken from the streets).
I was just learning how to ski, but I was getting pretty confident. Alex and I went up the lift, the highest height I had ever been to (yeah yeah, Alex takes me higher than I've ever been before, we're not gay).
We went down, but since he was more experienced, he was ahead of me. I was getting comfortable, so I started picking up speed.
Down.
Down faster.
Alex in front, me behind...
it was awesome.
And not gay.
Not sure what he was thinking, but as he would tell me later, he was worried that I was going to run into the orange fence that was set up at the end of the hill, to prevent lost skis from running into people at the chalet.
I wasn't.
I was slowing down pretty good actually. But Alex was never that good at math, or thinking, really, and so...
But as I bolted down the hill, I remember, and will always remember the moment where without a thought, Alex turned around, skied in front of me, put his arms up to brace himself, and...
(dramatic silence)
WHAM.
My weight, combined with the speed I was going at, ran both of us directly into the damn orange fence.
Idiot.
...
Lemmie tell you about Alex Grolle.
He is my best friend in the entire world.
I remember when we were just 13 or so, and I was having a goodbye party at my place. Someone was leaving, but on top of that, there were some deeply personal issues I was sorting out. I remember making a speech to the person leaving, and well, breaking down partway through. I ran out the back door to a nearby park, and just sobbed.
Not long after, Alex found me.
Held me together.
He had started chasing me after I left.
Without a thought.
And I think about it now, and I realize the measure of man he is.
A little tidbit of trivia is that while Alex and I met in pre school we were too young to remember it at the time. It wasn't until four years later, when I transferred elementary schools, that we met again.
It was scary being the new kid - I didn't know anyone at the new school, who I thought my best friend was at the time left me, and, let's be honest, no one likes the fat kid.
On my first day, without a thought, Alex asked the teacher if he could show me around.
I have no doubt that seeing that act of kindness when I was that young shaped my amicable nature today.
Be good. Be friends. Simple.
A week later, a new, new kid showed up, and thanks to Alex's example, I volunteered to show him the school.
Who knows how my life may have been - would I have been bullied in elementary school? Would I have been able to make as many wonderful friends in my lifetime if I didn't have the guts to raise my hand and say "I will be your friend?"
Will I have been who I am had I never known Alex.
Where would I have been without him to be my wingman and help me fly.
When I wanted to dress up as the Backstreet Boys, only he would don the clothes. At swimming, when I bled from the nose, he came with me to the washroom and helped me clean up the blood.
Also I accidentally saw his penis in the change room after, the first time I saw another person's ding dong.
...
When the police first came to my house in Regina, before any of my family knew about the allegations against my father, my sister was by herself. My mom was in Asia helping my family, my dad at the hospital helping his patients. I was in Edmonton for school.
My sister, terrified, didn't know what to do, with two officers asking for my father. She called me, but I was just as confused, and just as scared.
Still not knowing why the police were at my door, the next person I called was Alex.
I asked him to go to my sister and watch out for her.
Not even asking what happened,
not questioning anything,
stopping everything,
without a thought,
Alex drove over to my place, made sure Lisa was safe, and didn't leave her.
Alex may seem like a regular white guy, going to work, coming home and playing video games.
But he is an exceptional person. One of the best men I know.
One of the best men we all know.
He is far more intelligent than I will ever give him credit for, but he will never make you feel like nothing.
Though he has never had much luck with women (in fact, has been treated pretty badly by some) he offers nothing but respect to any girl he has been with.
He doesn't earn alot of cash, but never once does he think about swindling someone. He gives to his friends the best he can offer, even when he doesn't have much himself.
He never did well in school, but perhaps unlike the rest of us high energy academics, he has never even considered copying work, or cheating on an exam.
He knows what is right, and lives by it. Not due to pious air of superiority, and certainly not due to a cowardice of reprimand.
He lives honestly because it is who he is.
My immediate family is close to me, my brothers, my sister, my mom and my dad. We love each other, fight each other, scream at each other, then come back together.
But as they say, you can't choose your family - but you can choose your friends.
Which means bonds between family can't be broken, but friends can eventually leave you.
Alex Grolle is my best friend in the whole world.
We don't fight. We hang out. We go to McDonalds at 3am and talk.
It's how we choose to be together. It's how we are, and how we always will be.
And I don't care if that makes me his fat ugly best friend...
... or his wingman for life.
- David
Today is Alex's 25th birthday. If you haven't seen him in awhile, or just want to ask him if anything I'm saying is actually true, go to his Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=504352371
He could use the attention. No one else likes him.