I Can’t Trust My Friends

I don’t trust my friends

And in fairness, they shouldn’t trust me either.

Now, before I start pissing people off, I actually trust my friends with my life… and because I trust them with my life, it’s with them that I’ve experienced some really wild stories that only we would understand, and that’s where this all turns sour.

My friends know absolutely everything that I’ve done, things that I want nobody in the world to know. There are way too many stories that make sense to us, and are hilarious… TO US… that other people just don’t find funny. Hell… While thinking about the things we’ve done, I’m like “what the fuck were we thinking?”

Mostly… “what the fuck was I thinking…” and I’m sure my friends can attest to that.

So, why is it that I make this statement of not being able to trust my friends? Well let me put it this way…

My friends are awesome.  We are pretty much family.  We fight, we laugh, we camp, we care… we’re family.  This last weekend they decided to all get together and throw me a baby shower the man’s way. BBQ, beer, and poker with money–not diapers. But what’s special about this is that we don’t all get together like this often anymore, because we all have our own lives now. Most are parents, some of multiple kids, some of us are still students, some are full-time dads, and everyone has full-time responsibilities whether it makes them money or not. We’re all grown up now.  I mean, we still see each other in smaller groups, but never as a whole anymore like we did this last Saturday.

But 18 years ago… 18 years ago we were stereotypical teenagers.

As I joked with some friends, talked about prospective business deals and home-ownership, and even threw the ol’ pig skin around in the outrageously big backyard of a house my friend and her husband just purchased, I stood there buzzed and feeling good, and I took a look around and marveled at what was going on.

We are now all grown-ass people.  We are now all family orientated adults; homeowners with families of our own. There were toddlers, babies being passed around, and even a new family dog there.  Catching up, I heard back-stories of years of emotional and mental abandonment, and hardships that have been overcome. There was a backyard of full of years of struggle, and searching for who we really were… who we really are. But most of all… no matter what we’ve gone through to end up in that back yard that Saturday afternoon–all back together; there was my family I had missed so much.

We all caught up. We all told stories. We all reminisced.

Wait……. We all reminisced.

“Hold up… I can’t believe you remember that story.”

This is where it all turns.

As my friend’s niece sits there in her mother’s arms, we were looking through old photos and start reminiscing about the time one of my friends  started sucking on the toes of a stripper.

Yeah…. That happened.

I wasn’t even there! I have heard the story a few dozen times though… and God I wish I had been there. OH I WISH I’D SEEN THAT WITH MY OWN EYES…. So funny… so so funny! But to get back on track… As much as we were laughing, his sister reminded us that there were little eyes and little ears around…. Haha… and who wants their niece knowing Uncle Dollar-Tosser had stripper’s toes knuckle deep in his mouth!?!?

NOBODY! That’s who!

I’m dying laughing writing this now… it’s hard not to write “LOL” after each sentence.

But that brings up my point. Here we are as a group of friends, just sitting around creating new memories, but also talking about the old… and this story nonchalantly comes up, not on purpose to embarrass him, but because someone indirectly reminded us about it with some old photos lying around.

Unfortunately for me… the stripper story is mild.

Unfortunately… for me.

There is no way in hell I am ok with my children knowing even 5% of the shit I did, but unless I stop talking to my friends, I don’t think there’s any way around it. I mean… they’ve blurted out a story to my wife I wish she’d never ever ever ever knew happened… and I’m legitimately embarrassed by it.

But that was who I used to be.  That’s who WE used to be… And it’s funny… but inappropriate…. But really funny– to us.

I have a feeling that because of my friends, Daddy is going to have to explain himself often…

Even before JR is born, I pray he never turns out like me. I mean… I REALLY hope he turns out like me, but I hope he doesn’t use the same path I took to get there. I did a lot of stupid things that put my life in danger. I put myself in situations people usually don’t walk away from. I am lucky nobody sought out to place the ass-whoopin’ I probably so righteously deserved (upon my frail little teenage body) for some of the shit I was doing… and better yet, I’m probably lucky for not being arrested for all the public nudity or something…

I was a big streaker.

Either way… I don’t trust that my friends wouldn’t share some of these stories about who teenage daddy was.  In fact I bet they can’t wait to.  And I specifically know that one of my friends is really  looking forward to putting my stories out there when JR is older. And in good ol’ me-fashion, I have to prepare for it now… so when that day comes, I’m not blindsided and speechless. So needless to say, while I may trust my friends with many, many things, keeping my past shenanigans confidential around my kids is not one of them.


If you guys are reading… thank you once again for such a great night.  I had so much fun!

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by Bliss Drive Review