Some Guy

“Did he ever write you back?”, asked my best friend.

“No. He didn’t”, I replied.

“God, fuck him”, was her response.

To the untrained ear, it would be an exercise of repetition. Two girlfriends trashing a man who was undeserving of their attention.

We know what to say. We know the words to repeat as we comfort our sister and tell her it is all ok.

But this man, he is different. He isn’t sex. He isn’t disposable. He is a friend.

This script seems off. The words ring false.

He evaporated from my life. One day, calls weren’t returned and emails went unanswered. I had never known deafening silence until his unresponsiveness rung in my ears.

No explanation. An inclination, sure, but an inability to believe he was capable of this. It was an unimaginable cruelty, the act of a coward. He isn’t a coward.

I begged for a response, dropped to my virtual knees and pleaded. I asked him to prove me wrong.

Tears. For fucks sake, the tears.

Sure, he was a man, but he wasn’t a “guy”. I deserved more, didn’t I?

You wonder…is every man some guy?

Perhaps Sally is right.

I talked to my friend, confessed to my bloody knees and aching heart.

“God, fuck him”, she said.

She gets me.

We made him a guy. It is easier that way.

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