Go away...I'm talking to myself. I haven't proofread any of the below and it is more for me than for the masses. Read at your own risk.

Hmm..

Sometimes I have to sit back and wonder what "friendship" means.

If it means cut and run when the going gets tough...

If it means I can't tell you there is a bread crumb in your beard without you being insulted...

If it means avoiding problems rather than tackling them head-on...

If it means talking about me rather than to me...

Two of the people, outside of my wife, with which I feel closest (hell, I consider them the best of friends) became that way only after we had a MAJOR conflict. We "had it out" so to speak and in doing so took our friendship to another level.

I hear one of the complaints people tend to have about me is that I'm too guarded. People feel like that can't see the "real" me (whatever that is) and that I hold back or hide behind a blank wall of indifference. And since perception is reality I suppose they are probably correct. I guess that over the years I have developed a kind of semi-transparent bulletproof glass that allows others to see the parts of me that I wish while protecting me from the harm that always seems to come from personal interaction.

In my past, I've been the butt of an entire community's joke, I've had my bank account emptied by friends, and I've arrived at another friend's home to pick him up for work only to discover he'd blown his brain out the night before.

I am a true redheaded stepchild (though my adopted father never treated me as such). I was born with another name (one hard to live with) and was given another via a nickname that was almost impossible to rid myself. I was never cool but luckily, I was also never hated. Throughout high school there was only one person that I ever decided I "hated." His name was Dean Steward. The ironic thing was that he was a redheaded stepchild too. When my high school sweetheart and fianc� decided to sleep with him, I decided that maybe I should learn to hate more people.

After that, my life took a terrible turn where I became both self-destructive and destructive to others. People everywhere wanted to help me but I could no longer trust. In my mind, they were out for my money or to crush my soul as had happened time-and-time again. I couldn't believe that they really cared. At some point during this time, I decided that hating took too much energy so I simply gave up the practice.

I had a number of rebound relationships that never amounted to anything because I wouldn't trust them with my heart. The woman destined to become my wife was the only person that could change me. I let her in just a little bit. I trusted her more than anyone in a long time but not yet completely. It was only after a pretty big fight that resulted in some time apart (and a coke can to the back of my head) that allowed me to finally let down my walls and trust her completely. She had seen me at my worst and could still love me.

Maybe I do have walls designed to not let everyone in but...who doesn't have some walls?

Let me just tell this one little story about friendship. When I was really young (about 12 to 13 I think), I stayed at Brian Girard's house for the weekend. We hadn't been particularly close but we were of a common age and hung around the same circles (church and boy scouts). You see, I was quite an emotional boy prone to tears that would appear at a moments notice. Even at that age, my answer to both physical and emotional pain was to cry. Brian and his neighborhood buddies spent the weekend trying to "fix" this problem by tormenting me. Whenever I cried they would start beating the hell out of me. They'd make fun of me and I'd cry so they'd hit me some more and I'd cry louder.

They beat me until I was blue and couldn't breathe due to the tears. They were disgusted in me and I felt shamed in my inability to get control. The taste of the shame and scorn was bitter but my "friends" decided I needed another helping. Eventually it happened. The minute, the very second my tears dried up and by fists rose to a ready position I stopped being a victim and that bitter taste was gone. The rest of that weekend was completely different as I became a member of the pack; one who would fight back. In fact, Brian and I became close friends.

Thing is that if not then, this would have happened at some point in my life. The moment when you shout "I am not a victim" happened to almost everyone at some point in their lives. It can be a life changing moment. I hope for all your sakes that it is a friend that teaches you this.

You see, I believe friends tell each other when they have dirt on their face and sometimes put the dirt there ourselves. I believe friends come to one another to talk through problems instead of letting them simmer. I believe that we can't be close friends until we've seen each other's worst and agreed the friendship is still worth it. Call me strange, call me psycho, but that is just the way it is.

As I've said before, we all have a set of unique circumstances in life that make us uniquely us. Things that shape our thoughts and color our perceptions. And while I'm now much better at trusting others, I'll never be a window open to the masses; I can't ever be that guy. Still, if you want in...all you have to do is start knocking.

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