Good day people. I woke up today a little in my head and in my feelings. I hate when I get this way, but when I have something on my mind — something that will not go away, that I cannot stop thinking about — it usually means I have some shit I need to deal with. Otherwise, that “issue” and my inability to let it go will affect my sleep, affect my mood and fuck with my head like RFK Jr.’s brain worm.
Looking back over my life and thinking of the close friends I have, I’ve realized I am a fucking idiot. Most of the biggest heartbreaks I have had did not come from boyfriends or lovers; but from my so-called best friends.
My first best friends were twins I met in the fifth grade: Adam and Matt. We were very close until a few years after high school when we naturally drifted apart as our adult lives formed. Or so I thought. It took me years to realize that our friendship, our brotherhood, was mostly one-sided.
About 10 years later, the twins’ older brother invited me to one of their family functions. I was so excited to see them all, especially Adam and Matt. Their parents and older brother were so warm and inviting, and we spoke and joked like not a day had passed.
When I walked up to Adam and said hi, I received a barely perceptible head nod, and a “Hey James” before he walked away. Matt was slightly warmer; he introduced me to his son. He said, “This is James, we were friends when we were kids.” Then he said to his son, “You know your friend Tate that comes over and sleeps on our couch? James was our Tate.” His son gave him a look and said, “Oh, okay.”
I have no idea what that meant. Was it because I am gay? Was I the charity case that his parents forced him to be nice to? Why is it that I always felt like we were very close, that we were best friends, but in his memories, I was just a kid that slept over a lot?
Neither of the twins showed any warmth or joy at seeing me.
Learning that you didn’t mean very much to someone that meant the world to you is heartbreaking. It made me rethink our relationship all those years ago. Was I the only one that thought we were best friends? Or was I a delusional kid only seeing what I wanted to see?
My next best friend I met, literally, was my first time in a gay bar. We were inseparable and did everything together. We were closer than brothers; we were sisters — just two young nellie boys living our best out and loud gay lives. We eventually moved in together and then worked together at Hunky’s. It was the happiest time of my life.
As the years passed, we didn’t see each other as much. We both got our own places. I was doing drag a lot; he was working a lot. But we always made time for each other. We talked every day, and I would miss him if we went more than a few days without seeing each other.
One night we made plans to go out — just us — and party like we hadn’t in years. We went to the Village Station. We danced, played pool and kiki’d like we did in our baby gay days.
Then driving back to his apartment after we shut down The Strip, we are talking about all of the horrible and fabulous men we have, um, “dated.” I mention this guy, Tommy. Tommy was my boyfriend for a few months when I was 19, maybe 20. I thought he looked like Clark Kent — super-hot, with an amazing body. But the kicker was this Superman had lips of steel — literally the worst kisser ever, and his session was just as bad.
So, as I am joking about Tommy, my best friend casually mentions to me that he knew exactly what I was talking about because they had fucked. Time stopped for me. I asked him when did that happen? In a very nonchalant way he says, “I don’t know — one night while you were at work, and we were hanging out at your apartment.”
I tell him to pull the car over. He argues with me that it was years ago and was no big deal. I repeat my demand that he pull the car over. He does, so I get out and start walking.
It was a very big deal to me. He hooked up with my boyfriend, in my apartment, in my bed, and he didn’t think it was a big deal.
It made me rethink our entire friendship. How many other of my boyfriends did he bang? I would have never done that to him — not ever! He ruined the trust I had with not just him but every friendship since.
It took a long time for us to be close friends again, but we are now. — although our friendship has not been the same since. Seriously, that was one of the biggest heartbreaks of my life.
Recently, the “issue” that has been weighing on my heart is the loss of a friendship — not so much the loss of that friend, but how it has affected my other friendships. The loss of friendship with someone I thought I was close to but apparently was not has fucked with me.
It was probably made more intense because of my heightened emotional state after losing my mother. It hurt my feelings more than I thought it could, and it has me unintentionally pushing people away that I know are my real friends.
I’ve only recently realized that I am not sharing with them as much. I’m not texting or calling as much. I’ve kinda been putting up walls to make sure I am not the idiot friend ever again.
But that is not fair to my besties. I am older and wiser now — hopefully — and those past friendships are not the friendships I have now. Losing Brenda has made me realize I need to invest more in the people that are there for me with their actions and not just their words.
So, I want to apologize to Ross, Justin and Mark. If I have seemed distant or dismissive, I am sorry. I will be a better friend, I promise. I love you and thank you for the many ways you invest in our friendship. I am grateful to be your idiot friend!
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova