From ‘fatty to failure’
I firmly believe that the four-month span beginning in March and ending in June is the Season of Great Expectations. It’s the season where people get married, and it’s the season where people graduate from everything. College, medical school, hair school, obedience school, prison.
Because of this, everyone has great expectations for all of us singles. We are expected to have some great announcement this time of year.
In the last two weeks I’ve been inundated with this happy news. I’ve heard that one friend is getting married, one is having another baby, one will soon become an partial business owner, one is preparing to graduate law school and another is on the cusp of adding M.D. after his name.
Hearing all this wondrous news put me in a bad mood because it made me realize, I think I’m quickly becoming “the failure friend.”
In every group of friends there are certain roles which are always present. No matter where you grow up or how you come together, certain roles always exist.
I should point out that a group is defined as more than four, less than that and you are not a group of friends, you are in love with each other and delusional.
Every group contains “the chosen,” “the fatty” and “the failure friend.”
“The chosen” is the friend who everyone knows will succeed. No matter what they do, they do it well. Their success later in life is a forgone conclusion, because even if their work ethic doesn’t get them there, the naturally positive luck that surrounds them makes it impossible for them to fail.
The only downside is that a large percentage of them burn out or have some horrible secret that eventually comes to light, like they kick their dog or they’re sleeping with their dog walker named Kimmy, or Jason.
I don’t know anyone named Kimmy and the Jason I know isn’t my type, so needless to say this isn’t me.
“The fatty” is the friend who serves to make the rest of the group feel better. You can identify them by the sounds of soft crying and the crinkling of Ho-Ho wrappers coming from their room late at night. Also known as me.
The other type that emerges is “the failure friend,” the one friend that will never obtain the level of success of the rest of the group, either because of their career choice or because of their personality.
This is the guy at your high school reunion who picks the used cigarettes out of the ashtray if they aren’t smoked all the way while bitching about how eBay won’t refund his money because he opened his “plastic friend’s” packaging and talking about how finding a job is difficult because his “disorder” flares up.
This, sadly, could very easily be me.
In the game of life, my group of friends are separating into those who seem to role double-digits on every turn and those of us rolling snake eyes.
CLICKITY-CLICK CLICK Six! Guess what! we’re engaged!
CLICKITY-CLICKITY CLICK Eight! I got the job!
CLICKITY-CLICK CLICK Two! I wrote a story about a bunny!
You can see why I feel as insecure as a naked guy in an unheated sorority house.
In college I realized on some level I would never be “the chosen” but as I looked around at my friends and the statements they made, the things they did and the inanimate objects they disgraced, I thought there was no way I would be the worst.
Apparently I failed again.
The real issue is that this separation is only going to get worse, because let’s face it, the only way journalists obtain financial stability is to write a book, and I can’t do that.
What with the Ho-Ho wrappers and my disorder flaring up and all.
Think you are “the failure friend”? Tell me about it.