Another March 13th thought

I am back. In my "head full of snot" ways at the end of last week, I also forgot WHAT I was going to post on Friday March 13th. I know I posted on the 14th with some symmetry of me being ill on the same date in 1987. That was true but it did not have the deeper meaning of what I am about to write. There may actually be no deeper meaning but what do I know.

March 13, 2009 would have been "DEd"'s 45th birthday. Now, "DEd" has been dead for just over 10 years. He took his own life at the age of 34, about 4 months shy of his 35th birthday. I know that I have written about "DEd" before. He was a guy with whom I was friends in high school. In our first year university, I was still friendly with him but by the end of that year, I had trouble being around him for any length of time.

I had first met "DEd" when we all tried out for, and made, our high school basketball team. I had another friend who deserved to have made the team, but did not, more than "DEd". I cannot say that I ever held that against "DEd" but I was not over friendly with him that year. The next year, we had the same English teacher, the only one that I did not "get" me and the only one that I could not stand. He would torment her and I notice he had a quick a wit and was great with an insult. We started hanging out in grade 11.

After spending some time with him during the summer of 1981, I realized that I could only tolerate him in small doses. I could never pinpoint what it was that bothered me, but I did find that he nattered on and asked an incessant number of questions. At one point that summer, he, NG now NR, and I tried to "sneak" into a local seedy strip bar. He got carded and we had to leave. Jump ahead two weeks and NG and the good doctor tried again and were served, so we spent an evening among the ladies in their g-strings (there was no full nudity of strippers in Toronto in those days--for that you had to head to the airport or up to Vaughan, which was also done, but this place was so much more convenient).

By the end of the summer, I could not handle hanging with him and would do all that I could not to hang with him. The next two years of school and summers, we saw each other intermittently, but again, I could only handle small doses. By the end of high school, the summer of 1983, I did hang with him by going to parties with him and his neighbour (she was kind of hot and was about 5 years older than us, so that was cool and allure for me). Early in university, I did hang with him on weekends a bit, but then I joined the frat. I found a whole bunch of cool guys and was hanging with them where possible (did not have to deal with the endless and pointless chatter and questions).

I had also struck up a friendship with another person who had something that kept me coming back, like a moth to a flame. I always felt energized around this person. I always felt drained by "DEd" and not in a good way (which would be very gay, but considering the next part of the story makes that statement even more gay, so do not take it literally, it was drained in an emotional/energy sort of way). I suddenly found myself with the choice of hanging with somebody who made me feel energized or somebody who brought me down.....hmmmmm.....how do I make that choice.

The big problem, at the time, is that I would go to grab a sauna and shower on a Saturday and see "DEd", doing the same, at Mayfair. I am sure he could not understand why I would not spend time with him but had not trouble doing that with somebody else. Again, I was too sensitive to hurting him by telling him the truth, so I said nothing, which in retrospect was probably a worse way to go in terms of the hurt caused the dude. Anyway, I found myself putting off plans with him during the summer of 1984 and when I had, which was about once a month, I would choose a movie so that at least I would get about 2 hours of silence. I did not care if I had to see a movie again, good or bad, just to do my "duty" in the most cowardly way.

It was the choice of being around somebody who was positive and saw life as great by and large and somebody who was negative and just cast a pall over everything that life had to offer. To me there was no choice but no way to really verbalize it in a way that did not make me look shallow or an asshole. Then again, it was and is my life and I can choose how I want to feel.

Anyway, "DEd" comes out to me, but by this time, I realize that I want little to do with him because he is so damn negative. That he was gay made no difference to me. We jump ahead a number of years and "DEd" has a long time boyfriend. They get jumped in the gay area of town and have the crap beat out of them. To his credit, "DEd" was not the victim. He fought back and stood up to his cowardly, probably latent homosexuals from Hamilton, assailants in court.

"DEd" gave up his practice of dentistry to be a stand up comedian in the 1990s. It all made sense, considering how miserable that stand up comics tend to be (see Tom Hanks in "Punchline"). I am not sure how funny his material was, I never went to see him. I got a call in early November of 1998, from NG/R who had just gotten married and is now going through the divorce from hell, which makes sense as he made the psycho-hosebeast from hell, that "DEd" was dead and that he had killed himself.

Apparently, he and the boyfriend were in the midst of a messy break-up. As they were living together, the boyfriend went out. He came home to find "DEd" dead in front of the television with a camcorder on. The "sensitive" man taped himself taking his life (I think he injected air into his veins, though I am not too sure) so that his soon to be exboyfriend would find him, put on the machine and watch as he tries to lay on the guilt while he dies. His final moments were spent not taking responsibility for his own feelings and actions but trying to lay the responsibility of why he would no longer live at the feet of another.

Again, it merely proved my assertion that he was negative and a downer. What a sad way to prove me correct. I have said that I regret not telling him that and really letting him know how I felt. Again, I do not who would have been better for that exchange, I am pretty sure it would not have been him considering the circumstances of his suicide. No sense trying to learn from experience.

Well, that is it, I just wanted to at least acknowledge "DEd" on what would have been his 45th birthday. Not quite sure why I wanted to do that, but it did come to mind. Ciao!