No. It had nothing to do with ten wet naked marines, a cramped shower and hungry little me.
What happened was a phone call, an impatient man and a broken heart.
My ISO : Hey, you free?
Paul : Not really. Anything?
My ISO : You're lying around at home doing nothing, aren't you?
Paul : Stop reading my mind, bitch.
My ISO : Dinner in twenty. Beercan Boy extends his invitation.
Okay, I admit my friends and I do have an appalling tendency to give awfully unflattering nicknames to everyone and their mothers. Several discreditable names have gone through our roster from Bad Handbag Lady to Stained Underwear Guy. Don't even want to know what they call me when I'm out of earshot. Fag Doc? Saint Wicked?
But I digress.
FYI. Beercan Boy is one of my old schoolmates who actually lives really close by - nice sweet bambi-eyed guy really - but we rarely get the chance to meet, me being busy with love and career ( and a demanding boyfriend ) and Beercan Boy being embroiled in various entanglements with his on-off-on-again girlfriend. My ISO and I coined the name for him six months back during a wedding dinner when Beercan Boy appeared all heartbroken, woozy and alone - shockingly without his high school girlfriend. I say shockingly because for years back in school, Beercan Boy and his sweetheart, Anorexia Alice were the nauseatingly annoying, attached-at-the-hip together-forever Richandamy couple of the school.
Seems like Anorexia Alice decided to opt for a sexy, foreign hip replacement leaving Beercan Boy miserably bereft with a broken heart and a beer bottle. Needless to say, he spent the dinner getting awfully drunk - and spent the drive afterwards getting awfully sick.
One too many beer cans
Hence the name.
Despite our heart-to-heart talk that night six months ago, Beercan Boy didn't seem to have entirely gotten over his failed affair. Possible retrograde amnesia a result of the hurled up liquor along with eight courses of bad Chinese wedding dinner. And possibly a sudden relapse when he saw Anorexia strolling happily together with her new hip replacement, seemingly oblivious to him - the walking wounded.
Still, a limping friend in need.
Of course my far from tactful ISO was brutal as could be. As was I. I know as friends we should sympathize like Oprah, let him vent his troubles and hold his trembling hand. Maybe even shed empathetic tears with him while offering dark chocolates and Rocky Road. But we already did that six months back. And we're guys. And that's just not us.
And probably Beercan Boy didn't need all that liberal talkshow lovin' since he was the one who called us.
We gave him tough love. And without sweet, sweet alcohol to numb the pain either.
My ISO : Breakups are crap and we all hate it. But it's over. She's moved on dammit.
Paul : And it's time you did as well.
My ISO : So stop mooning and hanging over her.
Paul : What he said.
Beercan : You're gonna give me the plenty of fish in the sea comment.
My ISO : Well you're not exactly a trout but I'm sure some tuna's gonna go for you one day ... if you're lucky.
Paul : Perhaps a guppy.
Beercan : You're both assholes.
Paul : Who are sticking you with the dinner bill.
My ISO : Really? Let's get dessert!
A friend in need indeed.