Death Becomes Her in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

Last night was such a disaster, I’m so angry and so done with so many things. Honestly, it was so bad that had it been a year ago, I would have killed myself. There would have been no attempt, I would have gone through with it.

Once again, it was Richard. He was in town for Thanksgiving, and when I got the text, my first inclination was to tell him that I didn’t want to meet him, but I hadn’t seen him in almost 2 months and felt like perhaps it was time. While I was in Palm Springs, I ran into his old roommate who has known him nearly as long as I have, and when I told him what had been going on with Richard, he was less than thrilled.

Well, I’m certainly not telling him what happened last night.

We went out and we were visiting my friend Sam who was bar tending, when he launched into that same refrain he made during the summer. He was hot and he’s worked hard for his body, that means he’s better than everyone else and he’s not going to degrade himself by lowering his standards. When I simply said he should be gracious and kind about it, he argued that he was above that and it didn’t matter. I asked him why he was still hanging out with me since I didn’t seem to meet his standards, and he said that the length of our friendship made me an exception. I was already kind of livid at that comment, but when he looked me straight in the face and said, “And some of us have longer than 7 years left in our lives and want to make sure it’s the best,” I almost punched him in the face.

Instead, I realized that it was like I was Bruce Willis in Death Becomes Her. Especially when some of my other friends seemed to think that Richard was being completely reasonable. Everyone around me is so obsessed with youth and beauty, they’ve become hollowed out shells… and I’m just sitting here realizing that my friend died the night his ex abused him so badly that he stopped seeing anything of worth in himself beyond skin deep.

Richard had made no secret that he wanted to have sex. He was sending me texts about how difficult his douching procedure had been. (What a joy) And after his attitude the whole night, I decided it was best if he did get laid because then I would be free of him.

At one point, he was sitting there talking to this guy who looked vaguely familiar. I went over to them and when Richard introduced me to the guy he was talking to, I knew exactly who it was. It was the second guy I ever had sex with, and the first guy I ever fucked… almost 20 years ago.

I just laughed and internally doubled-down on getting the fuck out of here.