A catalyst...

This past year has been very different from the ones that came before. Since my time at PVCC, I have led a very quiet and isolated life, with few interruptions of my solitude. I went to work, spent time with my father and had a few outings with my parents and with my co-workers and employers. I work hard, the one that can be depended on. My free time (of which I had much) was spent reading, watching movies, and talking with strangers in message boards. Ironically, my friends outside of work have mostly been strangers whom I have never met in real life. 
 The catalyst of change in my life has been Mark. 
 10 years ago, if you told me that Mark would be a major influence on my life, I would have laughed at you. I have known him since High School. The most of our interaction back then was on the soccer field for one season of co-ed soccer. My memory of that particular team is hazy and vague. I don’t remember cussing out his dad, who happened to be our coach. Obviously, I made more of an impression on Mark then he did on me. In High School we had classes together, in 9th grade, we were both members of the band. I had to be reminded of this, although, I now recollect he was around. We were not friends, and I’m not sure we ever really spoke to one another. 
 Over 5 years ago, we met again. It was my second semester at PVCC, his first after dropping out of Wake Forest. I was still smarting over the debacle with Jo and eager to find a new conquest. Mark and I spoke many times, and I was surprised at how much I liked him. He was smart, funny, well cultured and gregarious by nature. I didn’t realize that for the most part he was riding a cocaine high the whole time. In a twist, I remember more of him from that time then he of me. 
 No promises were made, he came over to my house a few times. We watched movies and made out. I was eager for more, a relationship, a boyfriend. He was merely passing time. My innocence and inexperience caused me to think more of him without seeing what he was truly all about. 
 Yet, in the end, I became the bad guy.
 He returned from spring break, telling tales of his new girlfriend, a gorgeous sorority girl from his sister’s college. I had been waiting, impatiently, for his return only to be confronted with his utter and complete lack of caring for me. I reacted poorly to say the least. In an act of true stupidity and juvenile anger, I keyed his car. To this day, I am notorious for that action.
 I spent weeks, being the butt of both his jokes and the jokes of my so-called friends at the time. The worst part was that I deserved a good bit of it. I apologized in just a juvenile manner as I had done wrong. I wrote a note and left it on his car. Such made me the butt of even more jokes.
 By the end of the semester he had faded away and so had my adoration of him. I returned to mooning over Jo and Mark was only an embarrassing memory.
 In the intervening years, we ran into each other once, at a musical. He was with his girlfriend (not the one from before) and I was with my mother and Eric. I remember feeling very awkward as we exchanged social pleasantries.
 He surprised when, 5 years later, I contacted him on Facebook. I was hesitant, sending him only a simple message saying ‘hi’. A friend request and a message of exuberant greeting was returned. For several days we chatted through Facebook messages, culminating with an invitation to come out to his cabin, drink beer and see his guns. 
 I spent that night and several more in his bed. Once again, no promises were made. I didn’t expect any and he was fairly clear that there wouldn’t be any. Yet, I disliked that the friendship was solely on his terms. Once every few weeks he would answer my call and say ‘come on over.’ 
 The funny part, I think, was that when I called him to have a ‘little chat’ and he avoided me, the chat wasn’t about me wanting to be his girlfriend. I was only going to ask for a more regular appearance into his home. I wanted to come over maybe once a week and spend the night with him. My goal was only sex, and a casual friendship. I was desperate for even that small and poor excuse for human contact, companionship. 
 He avoided me. I once again responded poorly. I sent him a nasty message on Facebook, calling him a pussy. I set my status update with nasty comments aimed at him, although never naming him. 
 Needless to say, he ignored me and removed me from his contacts. 
 I was terrified. I had once again behaved in such a stupid and embarrassing manner that it caused me to lose a friend. It didn’t matter that our friendship was a poor excuse for the name. His was the only one I had, and I was desperate to gain it back. I begged for his forgiveness, asking for a second chance. 
 I was ashamed of myself for doing so. He had treated me with little respect from the beginning, and the one night I spent at his place during the time between my name calling and him giving me a second chance, he treated me like dirt. 
 Yet, he did seem to forgive me. Its one of his quirks, one I find fascinating. He has bizarre moments of humanity and kindness, in the midst of his drunken selfish cynicism. I don’t know why my standing on his porch, trying to hide the tears, as I apologized the best I could and asked only for his friendship affected him. Less then a week later, he invited me back, of his own volition. 
 As I reread what I have written I find that I have not explained why I put up with what I did. For all that he is a jackass, he is not stupid, nor is he without positive qualities. His intelligence and quick mind is entertaining in of itself. He has wide and varied interests, and can speak with authority on many things. Quirky and hyper, he combines the best aspects of a nerd, a redneck and cultured man with a flare that’s all his own. Mark’s insights on life are often amusing, occasionally cruel, and mostly correct. He is as quick to laugh at himself as he is to laugh at others, never taking much too seriously.
 Moments of memory bombard me now. During a night of nasty drama, his calm influence and quiet authority settled a potentially dangerous situation. The one night he called me for comfort after a bad day, opening up to me in a manner I had never seen before. Times cuddled on his couch watching T.V., he would pause to tell a funny story, beer in one hand with a gamine grin on his face. Moments like these and more are what attracts me to him. 
 Its those things that force me to hold out some hope that one day, he will stop killing himself with booze and women and do something amazing. Although, recent events make me think I won’t be around to witness it. 
 I have come to the last straw. He will not admit or even acknowledge a new development in his life and mine. He denies his own culpability and lacks even the smallest amount of sympathy. The distance between us over the past month is perhaps a part of his reaction, although I think much of it is simply the way he is. In some ways he is still a spoiled child. His parents have a tendency to pick up after him when he gets into trouble. As far as Mark is concerned, the bad things that happen to him are never his fault, nor are they his responsibility, and his lack of basic humanity makes him unable to respond in an adult manner.
 So I hold out some small hope that his humanity is merely locked away and one day he will find it again, rather then thrown away and lost forever.  
 I now find solace in the one great thing that Mark did for me, though it was truly by accident. I still spend much of my time down at the former commune of cabins in the woods, but now with Mark’s neighbor. My introduction to Aaron was an odd twist of fate and bizarre circumstance. In the wake of a poor excuse for a friendship, came one of honesty and genuine respect and caring. 
 For that I must thank Mark, though he would only ridicule me for doing so.