Buddy

So this single guy moves into the trailer house across from mine.  I don't particularly like him.  I don't particularly like anybody so this is not surprising.  He's a nice enough guy but he's a little too interested in my life.  I prefer to wave at my neighbors from across the street, hey, howya doin'?, that kind of stuff.  I don't really want to talk to anyone.  I used to have a coffee cup that said: "Have a nice day elsewhere."

Still, he's new to the area and I know the feeling of being the new guy and not knowing anyone.  A couple of weeks ago I asked him if he'd like to join SuperK and me for our weekly blues outing - he seemed really grateful but had something else going on which was a blessing that didn't even bother with the disguise.  It was right out there, loud and proud.  Last Friday, as we were duding up for some more music I saw his light on across the street and - against my better judgment - asked SuperK if I should invite him again.  As you might surmise I didn't really want him to come what with all of the not liking other people thing still highly active.

I knocked on the door and we chatted for a minute or so.  Sort of out of nowhere he said: "Seaweed, could you call me Jake and not 'buddy?' "  He continued by saying that this must be some kind of Program thing where we try to make everyone feel welcome right before we go right into the mandatory group hug while chanting Kumbaya.  Or something like that.  I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about.  I call people dude or my brother or big guy or sweetie or dear, all kinds of stuff.  I don't even know when it's coming out.  I don't know anything about half the shit that comes out of my mouth.  It comes out.  I'm a bystander most of the time, watching shit come on out.

I do really enjoy, in an odd way, the experience of being caught flat-footed and tongue-tied.  There are many things that I am not but at a loss for words is not one of them.  I wasn't mad - fuck do I care what he wants to be called, right? - but I confess to having some thoughts ricochet around the old noggin.  Like "why would he bring this up right now when I'm asking him to join us for some music?"  Bad timing.  Not good timing.  Then again maybe he doesn't like me which would actually amuse the shit out of me.  I've gotten to the point where I have much more respect for people who hate my guts than for the idiots who like me.

It also made me aware - for the thousandth time - how many misconceptions there are about The Fellowship.  Obviously I told this guy I was in recovery - I've very open about that, even with strangers - and obviously he uploaded a whole lot of pre-conceived notions.  Again, don't care but it does make me ponder how recovering alcoholics and drug addicts are perceived by some people, odd as they may be.  I think he'd be stunned to learn that more often than not there is ass-kicking going on and not coo-cooing.

I'll tell you what and I say this resentment free - the ball's in this guy's court and he's facing a lot of pressure.  Our relationship is in the He's In A Deep Hole phase.  He can go find his own music to go to by himself.

And, of course, I'm sure that he may be sitting over in his house thinking: "Man, I hope that asshole leaves me alone."  

It's not unheard of.  I can be an asshole.