Bill was my friend
And I forsook him
I had a problematic friend. Do we all have a friend or two like this? What I mean by that is, well, he was inappropriate. Often. He could be creepy, at least for the uninitiated. He loved women and had a strong libido — and boundary issues. But he never hurt anyone. He had strong passions and appetites and was outspoken and brazen. So, yes, he could turn people off. Especially women.
My daughter couldn’t stand him. Ever since the day she appeared in the kitchen at 12 or so, when Bill looked her up and down and said, “My haven’t we grown up!”
I know. I know. No excuse? Perhaps.
But, Bill was just Bill. He was odd, peculiar. He was also very smart. He was a physicist with a big laugh. He loved to cook. He was messy and fun and bold and loud. He laughed a lot. He joked a lot. He wanted to get me in bed. A lot. And tried my entire life.
When I was 13, he used to hang around outside the bathroom door to get a glimpse, or maybe just to talk to me while I was in the shower. I didn’t like it, it was annoying, certainly. But did I feel threatened? Nah. Not really. Annoyed, bemused, irked, more like.
He was a tenant in my parent’s house. He rented a bedroom on the second floor and cooked nightly with my alcoholic mother who was a tremendous chef. They’d drink…
