The rite of passage for the males of our generation — the generation of the metrosexual and hairless pornstar — is getting waxed. As an act of true love for Sheila in enduring the pain, John asked me if I would clean up the hair on his back and arms. I agreed, as long as I could film it.

I suppose that near the end of the video my sadistic side comes out when I start to laugh, or dare I say, enjoy hearing him scream.

“This is like true friendship”, he says, “Waxing your best friends back when you’ve got a Y chromosome”.

Many a one cannot deliver himself from his own chains and yet he is his friend’s deliverer.

—Of The Friend, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

What is it about ones own problems that can be so difficult to overcome? What blinds someone so much that they can’t help themselves? Why is it only our friends that can bring us out of the worst situations?

I’ve come to realize that I fucking HATE crying in front of almost anyone. Pat, Aaron, John are the only people I’m comfortable crying in front of. I’m comfortable around them enough that I don’t have to worry about boring them, or feeling weak, or thinking that my problems are petty. All they care about is the state-of-mind of a friend in distress, and nothing else. I can relax, be myself, concentrate on my problems, instead of fretting over how worried I might be making them, something I find extremely difficult to do.

I remember once, Trolley was having coding problems at work that was causing him to stay late and go in on weekends. I explained the situation to Aaron, and we both agreed that we wanted to show up at his work and help him out. Unforutantely, it was eventually decided that we would hinder more than help, due to our inexperience with the software, and the fact that learning the necessary code would take longer than the time we could save.

Even though Aaron and I could do nothing to help, I remember feeling good about the zeal with which we sought solutions. Not only taking great pleasure in the fact that I could do something to help a friend out, but the fact that it came so easily. That my first reaction was to drop everything, and sharing the exact same sentiment with Aaron.

Knowing I have friends who are willing to do the same for me is what makes me stoic. Knowing that I have people I can relax around when I’m crying, sobbing, at my most vulnerable, is what keeps me sane. Knowing that I have people who would put me before themselves when necessary, while not having to worry about them at the same time, is what makes me stronger. Knowing that I have people I can trust enough to depend on, is what gives me courage. Knowing that I have people to fall back on is what keeps me from falling in the first place.

And perhaps this is why I couldn’t do this alone.

I don’t know why I didn’t figure this out before, but I guess the good thing is that I know better now. Maybe it was all too simple to see.

Friendship is all or nothing. Friends are the all, the ones I’d give my life for, the ones that I unconditionally accept. Non-friends are the nothing, the ones I couldn’t care less about. The ones that don’t fit in either category, due to insufficient information to make such a decision, are acquaintances (and some remain acquaintances forever).

Unconditional acceptance is the toughest part of friendship, because it’s the biggest commitment. It’s the biggest reason that I consider such few people to be my friends. It’s so easy to walk away when people change, when people grow apart. It’s not so easy to accept and understand, especially for someone as selfish and with as little tolerance as me. A friend is a friend for life.

I love you, Aaron.

I love you, Darren.

I love you, John.

I love you, Pat.

This was not what I meant to talk about tonight.

There are too many…frustrating people to deal with lately. So many things piss me off, manifested in so many different ways through different personalities. I’ve never really liked people in general, which has usually made it hard for me to make friends, although this has caused any actual friendships to be rather solid. I’m starting to believe that “hate” isn’t too strong a word. Even though I feel like I’ve been able to come a long way in my tolerance of others and of the human race in general, there are still times when I feel like putting an axe through someone’s head.

Everywhere I go in everything I do, I run into at least one person I can’t stand. I can’t begin to explain myself, because every time I try I get flustered. Even at the table tennis club, when all I want to do is forget everything and focus on a single goal, I run into annoying, cocky, social rejects. Even when I simply try to relax and hang out with my friends, there are people there who just seem created to rub me the wrong way.

It’s all made me appreciate the friendships I do have. Even when I think of all the vexing situations people put me in, I feel I have little to complain about. My closest friends completely make up for the fucking idiots I have to deal with all the time.

Sometimes, that’s just hard to keep in mind.

I’ve been back for two days, and I’m still busy. I haven’t played a game of WC3 in over a week and a half. I think people would generally be worried about me if I told them this without letting them know that I didn’t have access to a decent computer. I can honestly say that the last two weeks have been the best trip home I’ve ever had.

I’ll never forget driving to the park to blaze with Darren and Chris or Jeff or Jerry. The park was always abandoned at that time of night, surrounded by a field on one side, and a row of middle-class houses on the other. I always suspected that the people eating dinner with their blinds open knew that we were doing something illicit when sparks would light up our faces in the blackness of the field. Standing in the middle of the playground, with its sand-covered tables or dual-sided slide contraptions, made me feel comfortably at peace. The area was devoid of traffic (and hence noise) and there was no light pollution to dilute the glamour of the glittering sky.

Afterwards, getting hungry, we would drive to the McDonalds drive-through (since the regular joint was closed at that time of night), and order an inordinate amount of food. Eating would always consist of parking in a nearby lot, lit from long lamps that seemed to want to touch the sky, and rolling down the Civic’s windows. The wide, open space of the parking lot would rarely see anyone drive through, and we were left eating comfortably in silence (albeit with the hum of the A/C in the background), when food never tasted so good.

We would hit the closest Timmies afterwards, needing coffee and somehow more food. The place was always empty, and from two to four in the morning we were the only customers, getting two large teas and two cheese strudels please. I wondered how much money could have been made by staying open 24 hours a day, paying the two employees working the night shift while seeing us as the only customers, purchasing food but staying well over the courtesy limit. I’ll never forget how brightly lit the place was, with it’s lugubrious employee seemingly mopping the floor for an eternity while Chris and Darren chatted endlessly about the more humourous aspects of their friends facial features. I would look out the window and see cars pass by on the main road every so often, wondering how I’ve missed such a good time my whole life.

Time spent with John was just as good. We watched Elizabeth (Geoffrey Rush and Fanny Ardent had the best parts), The Transporter (terrible), The Good Thief (very good), Jackass Movie (just as good the second time), and Better Luck Tomorrow (very enjoyable). We bought Timesplitters 2 for his PS2 and played quite a bit of co-operative campaign and switched to deathmatch when we felt the need to match testosterone.

He would give me a ride home every night which ended up taking about an hour due to the DVP being closed for construction. We rode along the dark city streets, listening to Air Supply and talked about anything from implanted human desires to how fucked up our relationships have been to our future plans.

I realized that, as good a time as I was having at home, I still wouldn’t move back there. I’m comfortable here, and I’m able to much better appreciate the time I spend with my friends or family if it’s not too often. I have something to look forward to.

Something that is rare.