My buddy Derek and I used to have a guarded relationship when we were first getting to know each other. Derek knew that he liked me, but he was also trying hard to “figure me out.” It didn’t help that when I moved up to his hometown, knowing next to nobody, and accepted his invitation to be his friend, that I was basically the equivalent of an emotional leper. I was going through one of those periods that you later look back at and realize that you were totally “off the map.”
Where do you go?
Early on into our friendship, Derek would say things to me like, “I heard that you were moving up here and I didn’t really believe it. I have no idea why someone would wanna come live up here when they could just as easily be in New York or LA. Why are you here again?” And I would respond, “To become friends with you.”
But I had little to offer this friendship when I arrived. The only baggage I came into town with was the emotionally abusive relationship that I had decided should live here, in this town where no one would really know us. Maybe Derek could take this off my hands. He actually ended up doing just that. Years ago I realized that almost everything I say as a joke—sarcastically, ironically, whatever—is actually just as valid if taken in earnest, often moreso. When Derek and I were suddenly neighbors on our way to becoming friends, I basically said to him, “Take my wife here…No really, take her.” But no one was laughing and he actually did.
This might sound crazy, but I came to Portland to fail. I felt myself bursting at the seams and I refused to explode around the people who cared about me the most. The city should really start marketing itself this way. “Portland: The rain falls so easily up here, so why not you too?” It wasn’t a bad plan either. Most people didn’t know who I was nor did they seem to take notice of the ways in which I was wrecking my life. But that didn’t include Derek for some reason.
Derek’s an incredibly perceptive guy so I wonder if he could sense that something was wrong. I assume that he could. When most people detect that sense, they generally avoid the situation. I’m sure most of them don’t even realize that’s what they’re doing. You see the guy with the beard screaming to himself and you instinctively walk to the other side of the street with your purse held a little tighter. But Derek decided to be the guy that goes up to that bum and tells him that he likes his style, even if he’s taking the risk of getting clipped a couple times when the guy starts swinging wildly for no good reason.
The first night Derek went out of his way to hang out with me and my girlfriend, he took us to a party. I ended up insulting some friend of his by continually dubbing him “Awkward Guy” because the dude was in fact painfully awkward in how he interacted with almost everyone there. Sadly he was not “Oblivious Guy” and was well aware of the embarrassing social hang-ups he had and that I was choosing to publicly highlight. Then I pissed off the people whose house it was by peeing on the side of their place. Soon after getting to know me, Derek would have to have these talks with me, nicks on his chin still showing, where he’d say something to the effect of, “Hey man, the way you acted last night was really not cool.” And all I could say was, “You’re right.”
One of the biggest themes in Derek’s life is this ongoing fear that by sticking around his hometown, he’s created an obstacle for himself that doesn’t allow him to succeed in ways which he would like to, that Portland might be holding him back. But the biggest thing that keeps him around is having a girlfriend who lives there with him. That’s where their life is. Maybe it seems like going somewhere else would mean having a different life. I’m pretty sure that’s how I felt when I moved up near them.
A couple of months after being around each other in Portland, Derek and I went out for coffee one afternoon. It seems like something that would have happened a lot sooner in an area known for its coffee culture, but at the end of a day it really is a drinking town. Maybe they all are. But now he was getting serious. He said to me, “You know, I might talk a lot of shit, but at the end of the day, I really love my girlfriend and have no doubt in my mind that I’m gonna marry her.” He asked me if I felt the same way, assuming that I did. I told him that I didn’t. Now he seemed really stumped. Here he was, stuck in a place he often felt like he didn’t want to be, but grounded there by the girl he knew he wanted to be with. And now I tell him that I’ve brought a girl to that very same place—a place where I equally would rather not be stuck in—because I don’t wanna be with her. Off the map.
“Ya know, I think I finally figured out what your deal is,” he concluded that afternoon with. “You’re a guy who’s just all about being into his friends.”
