“My best friend used to live there.”
“Oh, where does he stay now?”
“Oh he’s still there; he’s just not my best friend anymore.”

I was actually alerted by an informant of what might have really happened between a very good friend, the best I’ve had, and me, and it was as I suspected. Now I have nothing to say to the catalyst of this most unusual “breakup”.
Of the “breakup” itself, ever since I found out what really happened, I’m actually filled with joy and pride. I can’t explain it; my best friend doesn’t talk to me anymore, I told him to piss off and I wouldn’t ever bother him again, and I don’t intend to, and I’m happy about how it turned out, now that I know why.

I’m told he was in company of said person who shall not be named in the interests of decency, who told him things that may have been anti-me, and I couldn’t care less what or why…the fact of the matter is, it was effective. If that was said person’s aim all along, then mission accomplished, congratulations. What really matters is what he did after that. He stopped talking. No questions asked, no verbal battles fought. Just stopped talking. Total avoidance.
Isn’t that the coolest? That is honour. He did what he thought was right, and I can’t say whether the decision was as crucial to him as it would have been to me, [I’d like to think so] but in any case, wow, I only wish I have that kind of resolve and strength when my turn, my crisis, my judgement call comes. Other men have died for less; all I lost was a friend.

Newfound respect for Gobs. Wherever you are, hats off, man. Like ol’ times, it was good while it lasted.

And of consequence, there is no better way to lose a friendship. Slow brain-death as people just drift apart, nope. A petty argument about some petty emo crap, nope. This is it. A cold war. An ideological difference with no right or wrong. Isn’t that almost epic? Almost tragic? I love it already.

And thanks, informant, for the tip off. It’s a comfort to know.


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