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:: Thursday, November 01, 2007 ::

:: Server Stories: Drunkenness and Breakups ::
I know it's been a while since I posted but there hasn't been much goingon. Unless you wanted read about me being too chicken-shit to talk to women or stuff like that, I haven't felt like writing.

My buddy Duke, who I used to work with, came by to visit over the weekend. I might have mentioned him before, but the short version is: good worker, fun to work with, beautiful fiancé, and overall good guy. I didn't get to know him as well as I'd like since we mostly talked during down times at work but there was a mutual regard and respect while we were co-workers. His fiancé would stop by the restaurant every now and then, and we became friends as well. They were an adorable couple.

He left late last year to find another line of work, and just before that, I remember how he seemed eager to start a family soon. We didn't talk much since then other then some phone tag and text messages. So when I saw him Sunday night at work, I was happy to see him and there was a small part of me expecting him to pass out cigars or something. As it was, I was busy tending to my tables and my manager, who's his golfing buddy, was monopolizing his time catching up. Which was fine because I had a full section and my tables were keeping me busy; I figured I could talk to him once we closed.

Once I finished my paperwork and sat down next to him at the bar, I found him completely hammered. Slurred speech, stumbling, can't-walk-much-less-stand-hammered. He lived in Aventura, which is a good fifteen miles north of South Beach so, my manager, our friend Chuck, and I were wondering how to get him home. No way in hell he was driving.

We tried to get him to call his fiancé, who worked nearby, but according to him, she was at home, and couldn't get here on her scooter at that hour. A cab would be expensive, the manager couldn't take him because he had to stay late and close the restaurant, Chuck had to get home because his "wife is waiting for me and she's dressed like a whore" (also, she's Colombian, which means that if he's not at home or at work, she thinks he's out chasing skirts, so I understood completely). So that left me, since all I wanted to do after work was go to the Abby and have a beer.

The manager gave me some cab money, Chuck thanked me for taking the bullet, and I took the keys to Duke's car and drove him home. I know the general area where he lives and once I got close I tried to wake him up, but he apparently had a LOT of wine and I couldn't wake him up with an air gun. I did what seemed logical at the time, which was grab his phone and call his fiancé to get directions. I get her on the phone, tell her what's up with Duke and ask how to get to their place. I ask her if she's at home, and she tells me no. "Oh, so you're at work?"

"No, we're not together any more."

Wait... what?

My favorite couple that I met since I moved to Miami, are no longer a couple? What the fuck?! It started to make sense as I made my way to his place. He showed up alone, he was evasive when I asked how his fiancé was doing, and one of the cooks saw him on the verge of tears in the other dining room (I wouldn't know about this until the next day). He clearly didn't want any of us to know what happened, and when I talked to him briefly after dropping him off, he could barely look me in the eyes.

I called her after to let her know Duke is home safe and she gave me the Cliffnotes version of why she left him and thanked me for getting him home safe. During the cab ride home, it took a while for me to process everything that happened. I mean, the last time I saw either of them, they were leaving the restaurant, holding hands and looking forward to their lives together, and seemed to me the picture perfect couple. And now - even though many months have passed - they're not together? That sucks.

Duke called me the next day to thank me for driving him home, but also to ask me why I felt the need to call his ex-fiancé in the first place. I told him the truth: he couldn't drive so I drove him home in his car, he wouldn't wake up so I called her for directions, etc, etc. Clearly, he didn't mean for any of us to find out about this since he's not only heartbroken, but he feels embarrassed and emasculated that she left him, for reasons he didn't get into, nor did I inquire about.

I feel bad for him. On some level, I can relate to his situation. But on the other hand, he was with this girl for seven years (!) and they were supposed to husband and wife, which I never felt about anyone I was with. I told him that as a friend, I'd be available to talk to him if he ever felt the need, but to be completely honest, there's a part of me that doesn't want to listen to him vent his baggage. Not because I'm an asshole, but because I have so much of my own shit I need to figure out that I'm just not sure if I want to listen to someone else's relationship problems. ("You had a hot girlfriend for the last seven years and I can't even get a woman to so much as look at me. Yeah, sure." Don't get me wrong, I can be an asshole, I just don't want to be at this time). If he calls, of course I'll be available.

But I've been sitting on this for the last few days. This doesn’t really affect me in any way; I hadn't seen either of them in almost a year, and yet I'm still thinking about this now. Looking back, maybe I should have just tried a little harder to wake him up.

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:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:54 AM [+] :: | 0 comments

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