Am I the Problem???

Turns out I’m a chauffeur for the day. An old friend of Becca, new friend of mine needed someone to drive him and his daughter around for a fun day (zoo, lunch, museum). He can’t drive due to a medical thing; I volunteered to do it; I am doing it; I’m actually enjoying it.

What’s strange about this is that for like a year I refused to like this person. No matter how many good things Becca told me I woudn’t budge. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Turns out he’s truly awesome. What’s wrong with me??

I’ve been strangely reluctant to befriend several people over the years, the most infamous being Ethan, a guy that was so similar to me I just had to hate him. I spent a good six months trying to cooly ignore this guy who acted, in so many ways, just like myself. Sure he didn’t have my style or flair, but he had myriad sarcastic jokes, had been to New York (see above), knew a wide range of pop culture knowlege, and an athletic build. And when it turned out he could bench more than me, I almost switched colleges.

But somehow, we became great friends. We settled our differences when it emerged that we both loved to make fun of mutual friend Derrek and his terrible Frisbee skills, his even worse “sweet flick” Frisbee throw, and how he might fall off a cliff trying to catch a Frisbee. Whatever. The point is we became good friends and now he’s one the guys I respect most.

I talked about this once with a guy in my small group. He said if he meets a guy who’s kind of a bad ass it’s never good since he’s also kind of a bad ass. I think I’m a bad ass (but know I’m really not).

But that theory might not hold water all the time. For example, I met a guy a few weeks back that I couldn’t stand because of his perm. He also was wearing Abercrombie and Fitch SWEATPANTS!! And he’s like 30 something---OLD!

Now that guys definitely not a bad ass (like me), and I couldn’t stand that guy, or his hair treatment. Whenever we see him I say to Becca, “Ahhh, this guy.” She scolds me, but she knows I’m right.

Or am I? Odds are he’s a great guy, just like the one I’m driving around for the day. Odds are, he was being ironic wearing those pants. Odds are he doesn’t go to the beauty salon every week for a treatment. Odds are the problem might be… me.