I like Dyke was a play on the Eisenhower slogan of the 1950s and used by my vice-presidential running mate in high school politics – and best friend – which would make sense if I told you his last name, but first rule of confessionals and therapy, no last names.
Dave and I were tight through high school, we dated girls who were best friends – little Suzie being part of the inspiration for this blog, and Dead Flowers is Ben’s favorite Stone’s song – we both drove pieces of shit – I had a Datsun B210, Dave had a Ford Vega, a cousin to the notorious Pinto which had a tendency to blow up when hit from behind – and we spent every waking hour together.
And then, we didn’t.
Dave and I have reconnected in the past couple of months as we both could be on our last legs.
Hearing his deep chortle over the Intertubes has brought a warmth to what’s left of my heart and reminded me why we were such a good fit initially.
If only all relationships were like that (of course, we don’t live together, and if we did, one of us would be dead in days).
Relationships are hard like that.
But I’m glad I said my peace before there was nothing but regret.
Welcome to my blog.