Shootin' the Breeze

and random targets

Too Close for Comfort

Sometimes, the more you get to know someone, the less you like them.

My previous post, Slow Start, was about a college classmate who did not act very friendly for years, but in the end became a great friend.

This blog is about a contrasting situation.

Larry was a receiver on the football team. We were both freshmen. We talked as we worked out in the weight room. (My freshman year I went from 178 lbs to 195 lbs — Don’t ask about my substantial progress since then). We talked as we walked together to the cafeteria. Larry was very earnest and sincere about being a good athlete.

Larry was eager to show what he could do. And to tell how well he played in high school. Larry exuded confidence.

We pledged the same fraternity. Other guys in our pledge class started calling Larry “Superman,” but with some sarcasm. (Put me in, Coach, I can do it!).

Very early on, as we hung out together, Larry told me personal stuff about his childhood and troubles at home. I could not reciprocate because I came from a secure family and had no tales of troubles. However, I thought he must consider me his new best friend to share so much personal, normally private, information.

He also told me about his relations with girls, including how to unsnap a bra with one hand and what the number of hooks signified concerning, eh, voluptuousness. Again, I could not reciprocate. I had no skills to teach him. I had no skills in that department period. Or experience. I certainly did not have any good stories about that topic or even knowledge.

As time went on, I started doubting some of the big talk. I started seeing that Larry told many people the same personal stories. I suspect he recited them like an actor might give many performances of the same part. Anyway, I was not special, I realized. I was probably not even a friend. I was more like a member of the audience. We audience members were just not in the theatre at the same time, but we were witnessing the same performance.

One thing that happened that year is that Larry did get a new college girlfriend who reportedly had lots of hooks on her bra. He told me more than I cared to know about, you know, intimacy with her. Again, I only listened. And really, if a guy cares about a girl, the locker room is not the place to talk about her.

Our sophomore year, Larry did not go out for football. I guess the coach had not listened carefully enough about how good Larry was. Our quarterback had to be content with some other, perhaps lesser, receivers. (The QB became a SuperBowl MVP a few years later, which is especially impressive because he did it without Larry. Come to think of it, he did it without me either — amazing!).

I contrast my experience with Larry to my experience with Mark, described in my previous post. Mark was hard to get to know. Larry was too easy to get to know — on the surface. I am reminded of the tortoise and the hare. Maybe that fable applies to friendships too.

Truisms: Big hat, few cows. Big smoke, little fire. Actions speak louder than words. Seeing is believing. If you tell everybody a secret, it is not a secret.

Advertisements

Single Post Navigation

3 thoughts on “Too Close for Comfort

  1. I agree. nice post.

  2. I have known a few guys like that. Generally, the ones that are full of stories about their ‘conquests’ are contemptible, shameless liars.

    As the years have gone on I have come to know some complete and utter charlatans. And I am talking about guys in well paying positions with multiple degrees – yet they couldn’t tell the truth if their lives depended upon it. One engineer I worked with kept everyone in our department enthralled with his stories about when he was a Navy Seal in Vietnam — was he ever a good talker. Years later I ran into a very old friend who had known this guy from childhood. When I mentioned our mutual friend, the Navy Seal he burst out laughing. Turn out the guy had been nowhere near Vietnam, let alone was he a Seal…go figure.

  3. A guy in a bar where I went to watch a football game somehow worked into the conversation that he had sex with 1,000 different women. I just told him that he was 999 ahead of me. Paul Newman said, “Why go out for a hamburger when you have steak at home?”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: