When I think about growing up in West Virginia, a parade of memories begins to march through my brain…
Most days in Morgantown, the population was a traffic-free 25,000.
But on football Saturdays?
The stadium alone had 60,000 people in it.
My sleepy town roared awake for those handful of days per year. Reporters with camera crews infiltrated the streets, hotels were sold out, and excitement filled the air. On game day, everything felt so ALIVE. As an elementary school kid, I’d throw on my favorite Mountaineer shirt and jump into the car with my old man. First stop? His employer’s tailgate party. Like a miniature crackhead, I’d run for the tent and pile a skyscraper of food onto my plate. It was the type of cuisine I never saw at home – mountains of brisket, racks of ribs, and tall towers of football-themed cupcakes. Even Willy Wonka had nothing on me. Then, with full bellies, we strutted into the stadium. It was time for the main event. Were a million people cheering for the same outcome? Because that’s what it felt like.
Absolutely electric.
In high school, I spent those Saturdays amassing a collection of memories with friends. We snuck into university student tailgates…doing our very best to fit in. Obviously, my best was terrible. Any secret dreams of charming a college girl and walking into the stadium together were not to be. It wasn’t time for that yet. Apparently, you need to actually speak to a girl in order to charm her. But my incredible awkwardness was only a minor footnote on those Saturdays. Walking through the gates flanked by my doofus friends…hearing the roar of the crowd…was every bit as magical as ever.
Once I enrolled in college myself, game day took on a different kind of life. My hairy roommate Chris woke us up at 5:00 in the morning – courtesy of AC/DC’s “Back In Black.” Cranked to max volume, of course. We rubbed our eyes, yawned, and kicked off the special day by chugging one of these each. Tailgates were now 90% liquid. Most of our pregame time was spent in “the pit” – the craziest area for college lunatics like us to assemble. The kind of place parents warn their children to avoid. From shotgunning beers to keg stands…we enjoyed all the wild drinking rituals that get quickly outgrown in the years that follow. Thankfully so. But, at the time, we were young enough to have an appetite for all of it. I even have some vague memories of crowd surfing from the tops of port-a-potties.
It was absolute madness.
Still, none of that matched the energy of the game itself. Not even close. No matter how old I got, nothing outside the stadium could compete with the beautiful perfection of what was going on inside. As always, that hopeful energy shared between 60,000 fans was the biggest highlight of all.
Man, I adored that team.
But there was one I loved even more…
See, that college football stuff was amazing. But the pros took it to another level. And the nearest big city was just a 90-minute drive away. It’s impossible to fully express what I felt for the Pittsburgh Steelers. All the affection described above was child’s play compared to my massive man crush on the black and gold. So, let’s just put it this way…
In college, I spent a night outside Three Rivers Stadium on the sidewalk to get playoff tickets…
In the peak of winter.
In Pittsburgh.
I was absolutely 100% a fanatic. Sure, the sidewalk temperature dropped to can’t-feel-my-toes levels in a hurry. And it probably wasn’t great for my health. While an angry penguin has never stabbed me repeatedly with his frozen beak…I imagine the pain is similar. But none of that mattered. My excitement for those playoff tickets was off the charts. Plus, there was plenty of entertainment to keep me awake until the morning…
As you might imagine, humans who spend January nights on Pittsburgh sidewalks aren’t exactly boring. We quickly realized we could only take so much shivering. So, by midnight, my fellow diehard fans and I started dragging huge wooden crates over from the Lazarus store across the street. Why would we do such a thing? To light them on fire, of course.
The combination of (A) our possible hypothermia, (B) numerous bottles of whiskey, and (C) our undiagnosed insanity – created quite the scene. As the hours passed, things got a little nuts. One of the guys took a big swig from his bottle, sat in the fire for a few seconds, and then ran around the stadium with the ass region of his Wrangler jeans on fire.
(Obviously, we cheered wildly for him)
Like I said…it sure wasn’t boring out there.
At around 2:30 AM, things finally started to calm down on the ol’ sidewalk. I found myself sharing a nice, quiet moment with the two old guys sitting next to me. Their names (in all seriousness) were JimBob and Bill. In those days, there were no iPhone distractions available. We couldn’t aimlessly scroll through social media. If we wanted to pass the time, we had to make actual conversation. So, at one point, Bill pulled out his Harley Davidson wallet. He carefully removed a well-worn photo of an adorable little girl. After softly rubbing his thick beard, he said in a grunt of a voice:
“She’s the apple of my eye. Means more to me than anything in this whole damn world.”
I was shocked. And touched. Not to mention slightly delirious from the cold. But…wow. I mean, this guy was running around the stadium with his ass on fire just a couple of hours ago.
I said, “Bill, that’s so sweet. What about you, JimBob? Do you have any kids?”
JimBob looked me square in the eyes, paused for dramatic effect, and said:
“None that I know of!”
…followed by a booming yuk-yuk sounding belly laugh. In his mind, he’d just told the greatest joke in history. And it was impossible to resist his unique brand of JimBob charm. The guy was having a ball. So…weirdos that we were…we cracked up until our stomachs started to ache. Sure, it was a frigid sidewalk in the middle of the night. And, no, I’d never see those guys again. But we had a blast out there together. At one point, the team owners even ordered pizza for everyone as a way of saying thank you for our devotion. Or maybe they were just scared we might die on their property. Either way, those were the best slices of my life.
I loved that team. Every win was a celebration. Every loss was gut-wrenching. But we experienced all of it together. As strange as that probably sounds to people who don’t enjoy sports…it really does feel like being part of something. I think that’s where the affection comes from. You and your tribe are united through thick and thin.
Over the years, my affection for the Steelers was definitely tested…
Poor management, lackluster effort, and questionable decisions became the norm. But then…it finally happened. They drafted a star player with the talent to change everything. The type of quarterback who could throw a ball like JimBob could tell a joke. It was incredible to watch. Unfortunately, my friends in Pittsburgh began to share their not-so-great interactions with him…
Apparently, the star player was making a habit of walking out on checks after dinner. As if he was above paying for food. I had buddies throughout the city and some of them worked at these restaurants. They were literally chasing down this millionaire in parking lots begging him to pony up what he owed. Even when his meals were comped (as often happens with star athletes) he never tipped a cent.
Then came the final straw…
My friend Julie was planning a special birthday gift for her son Max. He’d never gone to a Steelers game, so she wanted to make it an unforgettable experience. She started putting money aside to save up for great seats. Even called in a favor with her boss to get a pregame sideline pass. Clearly, Max would never forget this day. Seemed like a good possibility he might even meet a player. As expected, the kid was overjoyed when Julie handed him those tickets. Much like me in elementary school, he could hardly sleep the night before the game. He woke up early, put on his best team shirt, and jumped into the car with his parents. In his lap was a brand new football. Hard to know for sure, but it certainly seemed possible that Max could end up with a signature or two.
As they stepped onto the field, the kid was in awe. His heroes were standing right in front of him. Since it was very early in the pregame routine, players casually strolled by. Max waited patiently for his moment. And then it happened. The star quarterback passed right in front of him. Somehow, the kid found the courage to speak. With a soft voice, he asked:
“Could you please sign my football?”
The star player quickly grabbed the ball…
…and kicked it down the field.
Laughing to himself while exiting to the locker room.
Max stood there in shock. As did his parents. A teammate saw what happened, chased the ball down, and quickly brought it back. He apologized and scribbled down his signature. But the damage was done. Even as I type these words, I find it hard to grasp such incredible douchebaggery. What the hell? Like a fucking comic book villain, this guy kicked a child’s ball and laughed about it?
Never could wrap my brain around that one.
My team’s star player was a complete asshole. I imagine Max will, in fact, always remember that birthday. Just probably not in the way his mom intended. As for me…after that day, I found it very challenging to root for the team I loved. For a while, I tried to go through the motions. But, man, I just couldn’t shake that image. Until it finally hit me…
I was done.
Look, I’m no moral superhero. I’ve certainly rooted for teams with questionable players. But this one felt personal. I really loved the Steelers for a long time…but, just like that, those days were over.
You guys know me. I like to share personal stories as a way of making a point. These posts are my way of expressing what’s been on my mind for the last month. So, here’s what I’ve been thinking about lately…
We tend to act like our closest relationships will be around forever. It gives us a sense of security. And, no, I’m not referring to a dumb sports team if that’s what you’re thinking. Let me ask you this…
How many friendships have you seen end in your life? Ever known someone estranged from family members? I imagine you’ve witnessed a person plan to spend their life with another human…until that didn’t work out.
So, my point is this…
Our closest friendships can end. Our dearest loved ones can leave us whenever they want. And I think it’s so important to remember that. Because we take our closest bonds for granted. Yeah, I shared a story about a football team. But here’s the thing…
When I catch a Pittsburgh Steelers game now…it doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.
Relationships aren’t bulletproof.
None of them are.
So, for fuck’s sake, let’s remember to take care of the connections we value most.
**Final reminder for anyone who subscribes by email – the old service is ending (or has already ended). Details are in the previous 2 posts**
From The Observation Deck
You are a voyeur.
Let’s just look at the data:
You have, at some point, peeked into a stranger’s hotel room when walking by their open door.
It grabs your attention every time someone has an intense outburst in public.
You enjoy movies and TV shows. For the exact same reason as the rest of us – because it’s fun to be a fly on the wall. Clearly, you like watching humans and their stories. You even spend your free time doing it.
Translation: You are a voyeur in life.
Me? I’ve been a captivated viewer of the humanity song and dance for as long as I can remember.
Hell yeah, I’m absolutely a big-time voyeur too.
As a kid, I even took things to another level with what I called “science experiments.” For example, one day I unwrapped a Kit Kat and stuck it in a prominent location. Right on the edge of the kitchen counter. Guess what happened whenever someone walked by? They stopped, broke off a piece of chocolate, and popped it in their mouths. Even family members who claim to not have a sweet tooth. Nobody made it past that Kit Kat.
Clearly, it didn’t take much to entertain me. I did that kind of stuff all the time and thoroughly enjoyed it.
The “science experiments” eventually just turned into a passion for people-watching. As I grew older, I’d grab a drink at a café or bar and start studying the room. Have you ever observed the body language between 2 people on a date? It’s incredible. Sometimes you can actually see the moment a woman decides in her head, “Oh yeah, I’m going to sleep with him.” It’s 100% nonverbal but clear as day. Much like the moment when someone realizes without a shadow of a doubt, “There is absolutely no chance of a second date.”
(Editor’s Note: I probably should have spent more time going on my own dates – but that’s a story for another month)
During one of my people-watching expeditions, I saw a young boy run right into a star athlete who was clearly his all-time hero. Literally rammed right into him in the middle of a restaurant. Boom! The boy’s whole world swelled up into a hurricane of happiness when he realized who he’d crashed into. Just one high-five and a laugh from this gentle giant had such a profound impact on the kid. I wondered if it was the happiest 10 seconds he had ever experienced. Would he look back at that memory for the rest of his life and smile and the thought of it?
On the flip side, I’ve also seen the precise moment a little girl’s heart broke into two. I couldn’t hear a word of what was being said, but it was obviously something huge. Have you ever observed the exact millisecond someone stops being a kid? If so, you probably understand what I’m describing. When a childhood abruptly ends right in front of you, that image gets stored in your brain forever.
Month after month and year after year…I just kept watching the humans.
Even with normal day-to-day stuff, I realized how much we can see about a person if we slow down enough to pay attention. When we really look at them. From people pleasers to confrontational types…from the silently tortured to the habitual spreaders of joy…we are all such interesting characters. Even when we try to hide ourselves, we can’t help but reveal so much about who we are.
As the years passed, I started getting obsessed with how aggressively we get in our own way. What the hell is our deal? I saw it over and over. When push comes to shove, we humans (with very few exceptions) would rather hold on to a shitty identity we’ve grown accustomed to than face how wrong we’ve had it all along.
All of the above probably gives you an understanding of what I mean when I say I’m a big-ass voyeur. I’ve done a lot of watching. To an unusual degree. I just find humans to be endlessly fascinating. But, along the way, every so often…I encounter a “wow” person. Someone who stops me in my tracks. Not because of wealth, power, fame, or anything like that. A person in those categories is often stuck in the same mental boxes as their less fortunate peers. They just have more stuff. No, when I say “wow” people, I’m referring to those who don’t keep banging their heads against the same walls as the masses. They seem to have figured out a better way to live. I’ve spent a long time observing the hell out of them to try and figure out what these people have in common. And hopefully I can articulate it in a somewhat coherent way.
(Disclaimer: In no way am I claiming to be the master of any of this. I’m not even close. The point is just that I’m a passionate observer who notices stuff. Nothing more)
So, without any further delay, here are the main 3 traits I’ve observed that “wow” people share…
An Ease About Being Wrong.
There’s a certain tension the vast majority of humans have when it comes to being wrong. Sometimes slight. Other times, way more noticeable.
Today, I was picking up lunch and started watching a random lady in the parking lot. She wanted to walk behind a van, but the Camry next to it was backing up. Camry guy wasn’t much of a driver. He was struggling back and forth. The lady could have easily just walked to her right and gone in front of the van. There was even a sidewalk right there. It was maybe 4 steps away. But she stood impatiently waiting for the Camry to back up out of that space. It occurred to me that…even in these tiny ways…we can have such a hard time changing from our original thinking.
“Wow” people have a very different relationship with being wrong. An ease about it. And this branches out into so many significant benefits. It allows them to be much more willing to fail. In big ways and small. Their life motto almost seems to be, “Dare to suck.” Because of that, they are so much more eager to try new things. I’ve watched it closely for years. Wondering why their lives seem more full and vibrant than most. And it all seems to grow out of an ease with being wrong.
The reality is it’s way harder for most of us when it comes to the big stuff. I know many of you are probably thinking, “Oh, I can be wrong, no problem.” But now look honestly and deeply at the biggest things in your life. Who you are, what you believe in most strongly, and what you stand for. Are you open to the possibility that you might have some of it wrong?
Hey, maybe you’re more comfortable with it than most. But I’d be confident betting every cent that many of the people reading these words (myself included) are on a path to reach the end of our lives and realize we had something big very wrong. You see it happening with old folks all the time when they finally “figure it out” at the end. Others won’t even get that far. They’ll never be able to even consider being wrong in any significant way. Obviously, I don’t know most of you. I can’t say any of this for sure. But I’ve observed this relationship with being wrong very closely. And with so many people. It really does blow my mind to think about how much better so many lives could be…if we just allowed room for ourselves to be wrong about the big stuff.
Possible Solution: Again, I don’t have any answers here. I’m just an observer. But isn’t our relationship with being wrong something we can practice? Wouldn’t we just get more comfortable being wrong by saying it more, thinking it more, considering it more, etc? This certainly seems like an important muscle to build. And, clearly, the “wow” people have it way more developed than the masses.
2. Emotionally Articulate.
Some humans are John Wayne types. They repress their pain and shove it all below.
Other humans feel the need to appear happy at all times. As if they’re putting on a show.
And some humans look at emotions as an annoyance. Almost aspiring to be a robot.
But “wow” people have a different way of handling their feelings…
They accept their humanity. Not just trying to feel the same way each day. They can articulate their pain, anger, and joy. Does that make them perfect? Hell no. But it does make them more comfortable in their own skin. A “wow” person wouldn’t poo-poo therapy or pretend to be ok when they’re not. And, because they don’t need to seem strong all the time, they are also able to ask for help when needed. Instead of building a fortress out of repressed crap and getting trapped inside forever…they actually deal with messiness head-on.
Possible Solution: Again, I’m only an observer. But I’ve actually seen how effective this one can be. For a week, carry a notebook with you constantly. Again, just for a week. All you need to do in this notebook is write down every time you feel a new emotion. Simple, right? Ok, but now think of how often someone impacts you emotionally in a day. The nice person at the store who makes you smile, the dickhead in traffic who makes you upset, the scene on TV that reminds you of something sad. And so on.
The notebook thing is a very simple idea. We tend to think of ourselves as logical people. But humans are such emotional beings. By actually recording all the changes you go through in a week…the notebook exercise tends to be a revelation. And who knows what might happen from there? I’m certainly no expert. But, if you do commit to the week, I don’t think there’s any way to avoid being surprised by how many feelings you go through in that time. Most of you will probably ignore the idea. That’s understandable. But at least ask yourself one question – is there a good reason to not want to be more emotionally articulate?
3. Love Of Life.
Every “wow” person I’ve ever seen has a deep love of life. Unfortunately, as we know, there’s a wide range of traumas people go through – some to extreme degrees. It can be an uphill battle just to know it’s ok to love your life. Or to know that’s even possible. I certainly can’t tell you how they got there…but a “wow” person wants to fill their cup and let it overflow onto others. We all want to be seen as kind and caring, of course. But I have yet to meet a truly kind human who isn’t also kind to the person in the mirror.
Possible Solution: Obviously, this is by far the hardest one. I’m a universe away from being a doctor. Clearly, we are all dealt very different hands. I have no possible solution to this one. All I know is that the inspirational “wow” people seem to live with a deep sense of gratitude.
That’s all I’ve got, guys. Those are the 3 traits I’ve found most commonly shared between the kinds of people who stop me in my tracks. This is certainly not earth-shattering news. I can’t imagine the emotionally retarded guy who struggles to be wrong and hates his life is out there wow-ing a bunch of people.
(As I was typing this, I started remembering one of the many times my perception of a situation was wrong. I’ll leave you with that final story)
Bonus Story
Many years ago, I used to teach an adult computer skills class at night. I constantly walked around to look at the work on people’s screens. Most of the night, I was flying from student to student. It was a tight squeeze and occasionally I’d brush against someone’s chair. No big deal. But, one day, my boss called me into her office as soon as I walked in the door. One of the ladies from class had come to her in tears. Apparently, this student was furious with me. Huh? I hadn’t spoken 15 words to her since the first day of class. She always just sat there quietly doing her work. But my boss explained how this lady was talking about suing the school. How it was VERY serious and needed to be addressed…
Wait, what?
My jaw hit the floor as I listened for the next few minutes. Apparently, the lady claimed that I rammed into her chair over and over. And that I did so intentionally every time I passed her. That she was just trying to learn a new skill and I wanted to pick a fight with her. She worked as a bus driver and claimed the stress of this mistreatment made it very hard for her to do her job.
What. The. Fuck. Was. This?
I was furious. Much like a cartoon animal with steam coming out of his head. I mean, my students loved me. I tried my best to teach these people every night…and now I’m being accused of complete and utter bullshit? Why the hell would someone just make up lies? I had a room full of witnesses. How could a person do this?
We sat down for a conference. Me, the student, and my boss. I was so angry that I literally couldn’t see straight. All of my energy was focused on how badly I was being wronged. The more angry I became, the more the student sunk into her chair. Please. Don’t act like the victim here. You’re the one making up lies about me!
This went on for the next few minutes. And then…
The student broke down crying. She couldn’t speak above a whisper. But she finally started explaining that she worked the overnight bus shift at the airport for many years. And, late one night, when transporting a single passenger to a fairly deserted parking lot…she was raped. The words were barely audible. That incident caused a domino effect in her life, countless problems, and a deep loss of trust in people. She finally said, “I understand that you’re probably not bumping my chair very hard. But you have to realize…for me, it feels like an attack each and every time.”
This is the person I was yelling at?
I immediately felt 3 inches tall. I apologized and told her that I had no idea of the impact a bump like that would cause her. We worked together to try to figure out a way to help her feel more comfortable in the classroom. And around me. You better believe that I never bumped into her chair again.
Looking back, I was so offended by “her lie” that I didn’t even bother to ask why she was telling it.
Quick admin note: Some of you who have subscribed via email for years weren’t able to locate the new sign-up link. It should be in the right sidebar (bottom of screen on mobile) but is also right here. Again, the previous Subscribe By Email service has ended functionality or will be ending it very soon.
On to the post…
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I’m stuck behind a left lane bandit
Oh yeah, you know the one…
He’s crawling down the freeway interfering with my fun.
I can’t believe his driving, what’s the deal with this lame guy?
So I look into his window and can see he’s from Shanghai.
I swerve back to the right lane and begin to ride your tail.
While continuing to check my phone and read routine email.
I fire tweets off quickly as my foot slams on the gas.
Inching closer to your bumper now – I refuse to make the pass!
But my exit is approaching, so I roll right into work.
Talking loudly on my speakerphone (to ignore colleagues like Dirk).
I duck into my office and quickly hide behind my desk.
The people all around me here? Quite literally grotesque.
Loud drama queens and girly men that’s what this place is now.
A team of brainless Oprah fans who try to act highbrow.
I’m exhausted by their worries all about their lot in life.
Except Latina file clerk girl – could she be my next ex-wife?
This place has grown so nutty, I just don’t know what to do.
Coworkers who surround me, all they do is misconstrue.
Their problematic thinking – far too often led astray.
So easy to convince them boogeyman is on his way.
At least we’re in this building now (not on my couch with Zoom).
Long-ass meetings full of panic that we face impending doom.
My colleagues feel so foreign, I no longer can relate.
What’s wrong with modern interns now – I can’t even get one date?
All I said was shove that Pfizer shot…well, where the sun don’t shine.
And then just yelled, “FUCK VACCINE TALK” (ok, that didn’t make Juanita mine).
No injection in my body when unsure what it’s about.
Unless they can invent one that will make 6-packs pop out.
I won’t care what’s in a needle if it gives me sexy abs.
Or one that might relive me from this stubborn case of crabs.
The sheeple all around me here think I’m a problem child.
Well, they’re the microchipped ones – with blood data now profiled.
I bet they’ll try to bribe me, thinking I will get their shot.
10 steps ahead is where I live, they must have all forgot.
Yup, Dirk just ordered Pizza Hut – all part of his game plan.
You need more than awesome food to pull one over on me, man.
Can you spot the simple tricks like theirs? As obvious can be.
My views will never change. They’re built on logic only I can see.
In fact, I truly think it’s healthy washing slices down with Coke.
And casually ignore signs telling me where I can’t smoke.
While you all get so brainwashed, I am free as I can be.
My thoughts are mine alone. And need only make sense to me.
Things that enter this round body, yeah I always analyze.
Could tell you each ingredient in Little Debbie pies.
That might be a stretch to say (I never really look).
I tend to eat most everything from any kind of cook.
I’m a grown-ass man with freedom, that’s what life is all about.
These people won’t impact me – oh hell no, I won’t sell out.
Nice, it’s time to close up shop here so I’ll chill out back at home.
With construction now completed on my brand new biodome.
I’ll have distance from the noise there, from vaccines I’ll never take.
Far away from all the people who created this headache.
No, you’ll never understand me, but I’m still a real-life guy.
Hey guys, I appreciate the overwhelming support. Just wanted to get an idea of whether the post-retirement posts are worth continuing and the answer was made very clear.
I’ll be honest…a few of the responses were incredibly touching. I had some people talking about how they read the posts aloud to their wives at night, others forward stuff to their kids, and on and on. One friendly dude even offered to pay me to continue. Again, such nice emails. I was just asking whether it matters to you. Thank you so much for answering.
Believe me, I’m well aware that I’m not curing cancer here. I’ll happily continue once a month as long as there’s room in my life to do that. Let’s move on. Just a few administrative notes before the July post…
If you follow MileNerd by email, that service stops working this month. I put up a new link (from a new email service) on the right sidebar of MileNerd.com. You should be able to subscribe to it starting today. I’m not a techie at all…if there are issues with this new provider, I’ll try to have that fixed next month. But, again, no more MileNerd emails unless you resubscribe through the new link.
A couple of you requested a miles and points post. I might stick one in at some point. But I’m very retired from blogging about that hobby. These posts are just to stay connected to you old friends each month.
On that note, I’m probably done updating the credit card list at this point. The edits have been very sporadic for 2 years. Not sure there’s any point in it. Again…no longer a miles and points blogger.
A few of you mentioned how I didn’t reply 2 years ago about membership in a group. I apologize. Was slammed with emails and eventually stopped answering them. Anyway, the original idea changed. If you are still interested in a very small work-focused team (essentially a part-time job hunting for deals) let me know and we can talk.
Finally, the initial plan with my monthly post-retirement entries was to mix it up. Meaning, sometimes just posting a meaningful picture and caption from a trip…and the next month maybe just writing a review of my favorite pizza slice. Over the last 2 years, these all turned into longer posts. Hey, I dig them too. But, going forward, it’s possible I might mix things up more. The idea is to post something each month. What it will be may vary.
That said, I was motivated this month. Your avalanche of emails touched me. So I’m going to share a story I once briefly mentioned. You get a better, fuller version today. It’s a winding tale from my past. Hope you enjoy…
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School Daze
Can you still remember your first day of high school?
That feeling in the pit of your belly?
The bell rang. I entered the 10th grade ring (I mean, room) very cautiously. That’s the way to do it when you’re part boy, part string bean. Sure, my dream of being a ladies man was unrealistic. But there was plenty else I could do. Like claim my rightful throne as the king of awkwardness. Looking around at all the grown-up faces, it seemed to be the right time to start dating. Unfortunately, big obstacles were in my path. Including:
A flip side to my fancy new contact lenses – no more thick glasses to hide the schnoz.
This unimpressive physique. Best described as “friendly neighborhood crackhead.”
My weirdness factor. Basically, complete and total ignorance on how to be cool. There were Luke Perry sexy whisper guys everywhere…and then there was me. Armed with a loud voice and this peach fuzz moustache, I appeared destined to be cast as “spazzy guy in the back row.”
So that’s where I sat. And, as the cranky teacher started to take roll, I waited nervously. All I had to do was say “here” but there was a 99% chance my voice would crack while doing it. What was my deal? I looked down at the Guess jeans my mom purchased for the first day of class and immediately shook my head. Already got clowned today for forgetting to cut off the price tag before walking into the building. Dammit.
Cranky teacher neared the end of the list. It was almost voice-cracking time. And then…out of nowhere…
What in the world was this?
Someone named Kelley responded to her name being called. I’d seen all the other pretty girls in town but this was…different. She tossed her hair aside and giggled at nothing in particular. Honestly, it felt like fairy dust was raining down on the room. Did this girl jump straight out of a high school movie montage? What THE HELL was happening here?
My jaw was still on the floor as a pimple-faced kid tapped my shoulder.
Apparently, cranky teacher was calling my name…
Ok, NOT the time for nervousness. Man up, dummy. Gotta make a good first impression on Kelley. As soon as cranky teacher called my name again, I interrupted with…
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Guess it’s because most people call me Studman.”
Let me tell you…
As 10th grade goes, that’s pretty much the highest level of comedy one can reach. The room exploded with laughter and I even got a few high-fives. For the next 3 years, there were kids who would permanently refer to me as Studman. I even signed it that way on my Blockbuster Video card.
When the bell rang, I found myself standing next to the giggling, hair-tossing goddess herself. The first day of school in a new town and she didn’t have a single ounce of nervousness. How could this be? I felt a panic attack starting up simply because she was looking at me. Then she smiled (so warmly it could have melted ice) and said…
“You’re funny.”
High school was off to an amazing start.
Juniors
By 11th grade, Kelley and I were close buddies.
She (of course) was dating the captain of the football team.
I, on the other hand, enjoyed jam-packed weekends full of video games and Pop Tarts.
As the lord of awkwardness, I’d found my rightful place in the pecking order – as a funny yet sensitive pod person. I drove her to school each morning. We talked about everything (well, almost). I could never express what was in my heart. But, obviously, I was crazy about this person who sat mere inches away. I imagine she just thought of those 15-minute drives as transportation…but they were always the highlight of my day.
Seniors
By 12th grade, I was essentially her gay best friend.
Thrilling? Of course. Daily torture? That too.
It was normal to pick up the phone and hear Kelley mid-laugh anticipating what I might say. She was fun, quirky, and extremely kind. The girl didn’t have a mean bone in her body. More than anyone at school, she really cared about what was happening with me. It mattered to her. And, of course, I listened intently during our nightly calls as she shared everything from her life.
Being the shoulder-to-cry-on guy felt like an honor in one sense…but I could be so much more. With me, there wouldn’t be any reason to cry at all. How on earth did anyone express such things? I might as well attempt something easier…like climbing Mount Everest.
I remember one of the last days we drove to school together. She wore a new white dress. It was the first moment a girl actually took my breath away. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. She never wore clothes like that but we had a bunch of pre-graduation ceremonies to attend. My voice got weirdly loud and I blurted out, “Hey maybe we could share a dance together at prom before the end of the night…y’know if we have time or whatever.” As always, she was fully and enthusiastically up for anything I ever suggested.
(I just couldn’t express what I really wanted to)
Early College
After graduation, Kelley headed north to Indiana. A few states away. The opposite sex was (finally) more of a presence in my life, but she remained at the forefront of my thoughts. I received her postcards and letters regularly. Obviously, dropping everything for the scattered weekends she drove down to visit.
Maybe it was my growing confidence…or possibly the hypnotic mix of music and beer…but our time together seemed to have a different magic now. No longer just a spazzy pod person daydreaming about the impossible. These moments seemed special for both of us. Was that in my imagination? Had I ventured into arrogance? Because I could have sworn she was waiting for me to say or do something. But, come on. Please. Who am I supposed to be…Jean-Claude Van Damme?
We just soaked up all we could from those special weekends and returned to our normal college lives.
Late College
When Michael Jordan un-retired from baseball, I mapped out a road trip to Chicago with some friends. Had to see that guy play in person. Driving to the Windy City came with a special bonus. Passing through Indiana. I asked Kelley if she was interested in joining our adventure. She screamed in delight before I could finish the sentence.
We arrived in Chicago so poor that we couldn’t actually afford tickets. At least not the normal way. I walked up to a scary-looking scalper on the street and handed him a few bucks. Please, sir. Anything that gets us inside. With his tattooed hand, he shoved an envelope into my chest and waved me away.
Thank you, serial killer guy! YES!
We had our seats. Well, kind of. They were technically passes to line up in the “standing room” zone behind the last row. But nobody in the United Center had more fun that night. We sat there (actually, stood there) watching the greatest player in history do his thing. Wow. What kind of brass balls are on this dude to lay it all out there each and every night?
It then occurred to me that I might be the exact opposite of MJ. Someone who never puts himself out there. As we left the arena…eating, drinking, and laughing our way through Chicago…I grew frustrated with myself. What the hell was my problem? Why couldn’t I just open up my heart? Anyway, it was getting late. We couldn’t afford luxury so we all crashed in the same small hotel room. Kelley and I had to share one of the beds. We talked deep into the night. At one point, she looked softly into my eyes and then…I immediately rolled over.
As I drifted away, an important question lingered in my mind…
Am I the Michael Jordan of cowardice?
Post-College
We still spoke almost every day, but Kelley had been dating someone. It was serious. Just never expected to get a call that she’d be marrying him.
(Well done, king of awkwardness. You officially blew it)
Turns out the marriage was a bust from the start. A product of youth more than anything. Now a tough situation. As the months went by, Kelley seemed increasingly fragile. In spite of it, she was full of warmth on our phone calls. I really started to understand how important our friendship was. And not just to me. One particular day, it came pouring out of her. She said:
“I know you have lots of friends but honestly you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had. You’ve been there for me through everything. You know every single thing about me, good and bad. And what amazes me the most is you don’t judge me. You know all the bad things I’ve done and still, amazingly, associate with me. Honestly, how do you put up with me?”
As a modern-day Shakespeare, I replied with: “Well I do a lot of drugs, so…”
The reality is, I had no clue what the hell she was talking about. She never did anything “bad.” That girl was so kind to everyone. For the first time, her sunny personality was dimming. She was clearly in pain. After another few months, she explained that her marriage was ending. The toll was significant. I tried to be a good friend. With both of us living alone now, there were long daily phone calls. We talked about a million different subjects. Including regret. Both wondering what life might have been like if she hadn’t headed north for school. Clearly, I wanted to say something more. But Halley’s Comet would come around faster than my words. So, one day, she finally asked it herself:
“What do you think it would be like if we kissed? I’m just wondering…”
I can’t remember how I answered that question. It’s possible my head fell off my body and rolled into a freezer to hide. But I don’t know for sure…the rest of that conversation was a blur.
Over the next few months, Kelley grew increasingly sad. It was so far from her natural state. I tried to make her laugh. I tried to build her up. But she was just as concerned with my happiness as I was with hers. We were both a bit lost in the world. Those phone calls felt like a warm cup of soup in the middle of a storm. Her marriage was over now. Nothing left but paperwork. She desperately needed a weekend away. Something non-depressing to help her remember how to feel like herself. We discussed it for weeks and finally made plans to meet halfway.
It’s easy to forget how young we were. But I truly felt 10 years old driving into that random Kentucky town. We met at a local mini golf course. She’d lost weight. And (shockingly) seemed just as awkward as me. I didn’t even know that was possible. Never seen it from her in all these years. Oh, man. Maybe we should just grab a beer and talk? I asked mini golf guy for directions to the nearest local pub…but apparently this was a “dry county.” Wait. Let me get this straight…I live an entire life without knowing dry counties even exist…and NOW I’m in one??
Get it together, man. Just focus on Kelley. Your best friend needs you to be normal right now. But, really, all I had to do was look at her. I saw pain in her eyes where there used to be joy. So I did what was most familiar. I tried to make her laugh. Eventually, a few smiles came out…then some giggles…and the day actually turned fun again. We fell into our old rhythm. Talked for hours. By the time we headed back to the hotel, I’d almost forgotten about…oh, shit. Panic attack time. I stared out the window as she went into the bathroom to freshen up.
(Warning: What I’m about to say is likely the most pathetic thing your ears will ever hear)
It was a nuclear bomb of fear. My brain said, “We can’t do this!” But, actually, I don’t even know if THIS was going to happen. My thoughts went into hyperdrive – “Even though the marriage is over, there’s still paperwork to sign” and blah blah blah. The reality is that I freaked the fuck out. I’d been crazy about her since the 10th grade. And, within seconds, I convinced myself that I shouldn’t be there. So, while she was in the bathroom…
I grabbed my bag, went downstairs, got in my car, and left the state.
(Yes, you read that correctly)
We had car phones in those days. Mine rang as I got on the highway. Kelley asked where I was…because, well…it probably didn’t occur to her that I drove out of Kentucky while she was in the bathroom. Look, I could justify it in any number of strange ways. But the reality is that…once again…I took the easy way out. Not sure what I rambled about on that phone call. But I do know one thing – at no point did I just say, “I’m scared.”
Clearly, she was hurt. And this time it was because of me. I can’t imagine many people would forgive that kind of thing, but…man…she was gentle and understanding even in that moment. She actually thanked me for coming to see her.
As I drove down the winding highway, something finally made sense to me. I’m the most pathetic person alive. And the utter exhaustion of that realization (on top of the entire day) hit me like a ton of bricks. Because…an hour into my drive, I fell asleep at the wheel.
(Whether you believe this next part or not, I give you my word it’s the truth)
Right as I fell asleep…literally right then…I ran out of gas. And, yes, I know how that sounds. But it happened. For whatever reason, it jerked the car. Instead of driving off the side of that mountain highway…I snapped awake just as I drifted out of my lane.
Somehow, I was able to coast down the hill to the nearest exit…right into a gas station.
I have no explanation. No guide to help me make sense of it. But that’s what happened. My car should have driven off the side of that empty highway with me asleep at the wheel. There’s no logical reason it didn’t.
And also beyond all logic…Kelley still cared about me after that day.
Final Chapter
The years kept marching on as we entered our late 20s. A day rarely passed without hearing her voice. We laughed about everything – yes, including my Kentucky mad dash. We were as close as ever. Sharing the ups and downs from work, dating, and life. We were getting older now. Out of the blue one day, she said:
“I just want you to know how thankful I am to have you in my life. I’m so grateful for everything…and I don’t think I’ve told you that enough. You are always there to listen. I was thinking today about how many times I’ve called you crying over God knows what. I’m so sensitive I’ll cry over a hangnail. But no matter how trite my dilemma was, you always listened so intently and always made me feel better.
And it amazes me…even when I think I’m as happy as I can get…when I speak to you on the phone, I realize I’m twice as happy as I was before. As many changes as I’ve gone through in the past 5 years, you were my only constant. And I’m so happy to know you. Anyway, I just wanted to say that…”
Astonishingly, I started to express myself too. In a somewhat clunky/oafish way, of course. But I did say the words. And we met up again. A decade after claiming to be the Studman…I finally kissed her.
There was a hell of a buildup to that moment. And it was so meaningful for both of us. But if you think this is a story about two people ending up together, then you aren’t seeing the full picture yet. Let me explain…
We both wanted to express our affection for each other by then. Such a long time coming. But we weren’t kids anymore. The reality is…not every deep friendship is meant to turn romantic. We realized it quickly. And the bond stayed strong.
Another decade (and then some) has passed. I look back on all the people who helped me grow. And nobody from those years mattered more than Kelley. We long ago moved on to relationships with incredible people. But I think we helped each other get there. Her presence in those days helped me immensely in all the ones that have followed.
I haven’t heard her voice in years now. One of the last times was a day I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should check in. So I did. She’d married a sweetheart of a guy. And they just found out they were pregnant. Hadn’t even told their families yet. Such a major moment in her life and…for some reason…I knew to reach out. Both of us were thrilled to share one more special phone call together.
We all remain forever connected to our pasts. Sometimes, when we think back on the people who really mattered…we cut out all the bad parts. Or we try to make it something it wasn’t. The reality is that I had a great friend in my formative years. Sure, our friendship was messy and I was often hilariously immature. But I had someone in my corner. A person who thought I was awesome…even at a time when nobody other than my mom agreed.
I spent many hours of my youth wondering what else we could be. But that was never the point. The specialness was what we actually were. Looking back, I can see it so clearly. I had a real best friend. Someone who taught me how to open my heart to others…as well as to myself. I’m forever grateful. We don’t always understand the role someone will play in our lives. But, then again, maybe we’re not supposed to at the time.
