Room For Another

 My roommate, Cord Friis was killed in a traffic accident on July 20th. He was heading home from a memorial when a Prius hit his motorcycle; he died from blunt force trauma. This was a eulogy I intended to give:

I can’t say I knew Cord for a long time. We were roommates for a little under five years. I moved into the apartment in November 2019, mere months before the pandemic shut everything down. We hit it off almost immediately. We both grew up fans of The Simpsons, and we would occasionally quote lines from 90s episodes to each other. In this instance, I am reminded of the end of the season seven episode “Two Bad Neighbors,” where Homer meets former President Gerald Ford. Basically, Ford walks up to Homer and asks, “Do you like football? Do you like nachos? We can drink beer and watch the football game.” Cord straight-up said we had a lot in common and that this would be a good living arrangement. 

I cannot understate what a luxury it was to have a chef as a roommate during peak COVID. We feasted like kings. However, Cord was used to keeping second shift hours and was a perfectionist in the kitchen. Thus, dinner wasn't ready most nights until after 10 PM, but damn was it good. I’m not a broccoli cheddar guy, but he made exquisite broccoli cheddar soup.

As you’d imagine, Cord and I frequently talked about sports, especially football. We bonded over Da Bears; if I heard him screaming at the TV, I knew he had the game on. Even though he was a Cubs fan, he tolerated my 2015 Royals World Series flag in the dining room. It was a treat to have someone I could talk sports with in the house, something I hadn't enjoyed since my father died 8 1/2 years ago.

Cord was also a prankster, and when I first heard Cord was in the accident, in the back of my mind I thought he was pulling a fast one. Then I realized he wouldn’t leave behind the cat and the plants without any notice, let alone a fridge filled with his groceries. With that said, Meowser is fine, but she’s still a little confused. The plants haven’t said a word.

In the days following his sudden death, it was a challenge to go about my normal routine. My friend and improv partner Dan Anderson invited me to a Cubs-Brewers game at Wrigley that following Tuesday. After the game, I tried my luck at getting autographs outside the Brewers’ team bus on Sheffield Avenue. The first player to stop outside was a relief pitcher named Jared Koenig, and I was taken aback by his resemblance to Cord. You can Google him right now if you don’t believe me. Regardless, Jared signed my baseball card, and he was polite and gracious with the fans. I suppose I took this weird coincidence that everything must be just fine.

With that said, I had intended to say most of this out loud at Cord's celebration of life last Saturday. I want to thank Marcy and Jillian for trying to give me an opportunity to say a few words; the time never came. There was a Bears preseason game, and I was imaging that he'd be emotionally invested in that meaningless scrimmage. Regardless, I’m sure Cord would’ve appreciated this memorial.

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A High School Acquaintance, Part 2

 After that mysterious AIM flare-up in late 2005, I went cold turkey in communicating with "Daisy." Not long after I was dumped by Babs (click here for that story) in August 2006, almost by coincidence Daisy reached out on Yahoo Messenger. Daisy had now been seeing the divorced dad for almost a year, and living with him about nine months. I asked about what happened in late 2005, but she wouldn't give me a straight answer. We became Facebook friends and swapped recent photos. A day later, Daisy randomly asked if she could borrow 10 dollars for cigarettes. I explained that I was neither in the Chicago area nor did I have much cash. She thought that was a strange excuse. After three days of on/off small talk, she got upset again, for something else entirely. For a second time, I had to go through the archived conversation and figure what I said, and I could not figure out what I typed that triggered her. Again, I thought it was best to just leave her alone. 

We barely communicated over the decade or so. She got married to the divorced dad in May 2010,  and between that 2006 convo and 2011 Daisy and I had two, short nondescript Yahoo Messenger convos. In the interim, she deleted and rejoined Facebook at least twice, though only once did I send a friend request. For about four years after that, more radio silence. 

In September 2015, Daisy came up yet again as an FB friend suggestion. I hesistated for a couple weeks, but I sent a request. She approved it a day or two later, than followed me on Instagram as well. She had just finalized an ugly divorce with her husband, and asked if I was free to meet for coffee. I agreed, and after all this time we met up at a local Starbucks. I mentioned a social group I was part of, and she was interested in more information. She also made it clear she was seeing someone; this was just friends meeting. We agreed to meet up a few days later, but when I arrived at our meeting place, she didn't show.

I didn't hear anything for two days, then she texted to say she overslept. Then I tried to Skype her, but then she apparently blocked me there and on Facebook. About a month later, she texted to apologize, then asked if I was free for coffee again. I obliged, we hung out for a couple of hours, she unblocked me on social media, then agreed to meet again on Black Friday. The day after Thanksgiving that year was a cold, dreary day; I basically sat uncomfortably in my car in 35-degree sleet waiting for her to arrive. Over the next 45 minutes I left one Facebook message, one text, and one voice mail. I drove home to find I was blocked on FB again. 

I figured that was the end, but in Summer 2018 she texted out of the blue. Daisy finally apologized; she was in a tough place because of the divorce and was also battling severe anxiety. She was out in Plainfield, with a new job and a new live-in boyfriend. We texted on and off for the second half of that year, but never made any attempt at meeting up. Two messages I sent in late 2018 went without a response, then I just let her be until earlier this year. 

This all started with my sister, and Daisy sent an FB request to her. I wasn't sure if I had her current contact info, so I messaged Daisy on LinkedIn. We had a polite conversation that night and the next, then agreed to meet at the same Starbucks on the third day. It was like deja vu; I arrived right on time, and she flaked out. Again, I left a text and voice mail. That Saturday, I asked how she was doing, and this is how she replied:

If you've read all of this, you're probably wondering why I communicated with this woman like a moth to a light? In hindsight, I'm not sure; the 2004 me was probably thinking about sex, whereas the 2015 and 2021 me simply wanted to reconnect. I was also probably too patient with someone who (I'm speculating) has a history of mental illness. Anything beyond that and I'm probably letting my imagination run wild. This whole 17-year experience left me feeling gullible and a little used. I could have easily done some things differently. As much as I love the idea of reconnecting with people I haven't seen or heard from in years, Daisy demonstrated that sometimes the mystery isn't worth it. 

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Better Unread Than Dead

My New Year's resolutions in 2015 and 2020 were relatively similar: I wanted to make a conscious effort to reconnect with people I haven't seen or heard from recently. With 2020 being a wash for obvious reasons, I extended this vague goal into 2021. I have give or take 2,500 FB friends, so someone is naturally going to be left behind. For anyone that isn't on FB or largely skirks social media, it makes for a fun challenge. Having been on social media since the mid-2000s, and being in college when this unique interconnectivity was at its advent, there aren't that many people my age or younger that are "off the grid."

I often wonder about the people that don't answer their messages. The ignored texts, the overlooked emails. Do I have old contact info? Did I land in the spam folder? Admittedly, I used to take this sort of thing a lot harder. I still find it rude, but I have a better understanding of why someone might not reply; most often, they're too busy. By no means do I expect a reply within the hour; I'm perfectly happy with a short reply. Too often, I feel like I'm shooting an arrow through the air; where it lands? No idea where.

The weirdest feeling is when you figure out someone has blocked you on Facebook or Instagram or something without cause or explanation. I've run into that a few times; if I do have that alternate means, I typically write a "hello, how are things?" without directly addressing the snub. Usually, in those cases I don't get a reply. I'm not afraid of confrontation per se, but I'm not going to send an unprovoked "WTF" text either. I'm socially awkward, so misunderstandings can abound.

In any case, I hope they're doing well. I wouldn't reach out to just anyone.

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The Curious Case of the Amiable Aesthete

Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy 35th birthday. I will admit that it was not my intention to drag out my birthday festivities for nearly a week. It's been a busy few days, so I've been slow to reply to messages. Suffice to say, I haven't quite harnessed the Facebook algorithm, either; any time I gave a post a thumbs up, it landed on a mutual friend's news feed. I may not always demonstrate it, but I am grateful. Emotions may not come across in DMs, but social awkwardness permeates everywhere.

Also, for those of you who haven't read my blog before-- welcome! This is where I get serious, long-winded, and discuss what's going on in my life. Social media is for the succinct and the concise; I am seldom the former and rarely the latter. I started blogging in Summer 2005 and I've been on Blogspot since December '08. Besides my FB page, I'm also on Twitter. Your friendship and support means more than any birthday present.

Next Week: my 2019 NFL preview.

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All My Friends Were... Somewhere

I'm turning 35 on August 18th. I would probably be more excited, but it has been an oddly lonely summer. I typically have a flexible schedule during the warmer months, and I usually make some effort to meet up with old friends. This year, however it really hasn't panned out. A fair number of DMs on social media have been left unanswered, as have texts and the occasional email.

My fear is probably irrational, but I suppose that when people started whittling down their circle of close friends, I was among the first or second group to be phased out. I almost unilaterally get along with people, but in the vast majority of cases I've been an acquaintance or on the peripheral. While it is natural for friendships to phase out, and this sort of attrition is normal in your 30s, it is the close friendships of years past that I do mourn.

What am I attempting to express, however is hardly a cry for help. If anything, I'm in a wistful mood; my optimism about this sort of thing simply tends to waver. I mention my birthday because I genuinely enjoy when people leave wall posts on and around the 18th. For one day out of the year, I feel unequivocally embraced and appreciated. At some point on the 19th or 20th, that somewhat irrational feeling of isolation resets.

To everyone reading this, I've said it before and I'll say it again: thanks for riding along. I hope you stick around for awhile.

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A Second Confessional

About four years ago, I discussed how I all but sabotaged my friendship with "Sandra," whom I met in high school. Even though we kept a distance, we remained Facebook friends. Since I first wrote about her over four years ago, she had a daughter and got married (in that order). I not only avoided interacting with her, but also her social circle, which I found problematic.

Less than a year after that post, Sandra gave birth to her daughter, then married the father of the child; the nuptials were postponed until after she had the baby. The Friday before the wedding, she posted something on Facebook about a get-together at a restaurant in Logan Square. I messaged her to ask if I would be welcome; the message was time-stamped (which means she saw it) but she didn't reply. I assumed that the freeze-out was still on, and I stayed home that night.

In early 2016, Sandra invited me to her 30th birthday party. It was the first time she had reached out to me in any way, shape or form in nearly five years. I appreciated the invite, but obviously I had a lot of trepidation; on top of that, I already had plans out of town that weekend. I sent her an email sending my regrets and concerns; to my astonishment, she replied to clarify that I was definitely welcome. I responded by asking if we could meet one on one and finally talk things out, but she said her itinerary for her Chicago trip was already full.

No leeway was made --and contact remained minimal-- until this past June. Sandra was coming back to town, and sent out an invite for a group dinner. I still would have preferred meeting one on one, but I accepted the invite anyway. Around this time, Sandra teased some big news on Facebook, and was supposed to be an imminent announcement took several weeks. The trepidation returned, and my anxiety grew as the date of the get-together neared. When I drove to the restaurant, I found a spot at the bar and polished off a beer to calm my nerves.

Sandra arrived with Kori, a mutual longtime friend. I had known Kori since grade school, but hadn't seen her since 2011 or so. I vaguely recalled that Kori had unfriended me on Facebook; we had talking things out, she readded me, then disappeared from FB altogether shortly after that. She had always been cagey and a little hard to read, so part of me wondered if I had been blocked.

Sandra's major announcement was that her young family was moving from San Diego to Columbus, OH. I thanked her for clarifying, and that ended up being the last interaction we had for nearly an hour. I attempted to catch up with Kori, partially to impose some goodwill but also to feel at ease. The conversation tapped out after about five minutes, and after struggling to latch onto another conversation at the table, I spent most of the evening eating fish tacos in relative silence. (The fact that the tacos were outstanding almost feels like an afterthought.) After getting some ice cream, Kori drove a drunk Sandra back to her hotel.

I left Oak Park feeling annoyed. I figured that Sandra was tired, and she would touch base in a day or two, but it never happened. Later in the week, I shared a picture of my dog (a onetime obsession of hers) but it didn't elicit a response. Against my better judgment, I let the events of the night circle around my head; I was baffled that Sandra would invite me out for dinner, but barely start a conversation. Was it circumstance or more passive-aggression?

Perhaps against better judgment, six weeks later I wrote Sandra another long email. I mentioned how disappointed I was that we barely spoke, and that I was open to talking by phone or Skype. I didn't get a reply, so two weeks after that I messaged her on Facebook. After waiting awhile after that, I made an unpleasant discovery: I had been "half-blocked." We were still FB friends, but I couldn't see anything on her profile besides her basic info. What I feared would happen years ago finally did.

If this is the end, I accept those terms. In my subconscious, the nightmare from eight years ago still engulfs me. Sandra attempted to reconnect, and still couldn't make a conscious effort. I feel tempted send one more email, partially to apologize for overreacting and also because I have nothing to lose. Maybe in a few months, but definitely not now.

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