Kirk Lazarus

Dear Duuuude:

Recently you texted me suggesting that we needed to talk, so that I could explain exactly what my issues with you are, given that we're sort of doomed to work closely together for the next year plus. I can't really see having that conversation in person, but here you go.

Where to begin? Well, with Manic Pixie Dream Girl (nee Furious Girl), I suppose. Obviously that incident on the drive back from Copper Mountain two weekends ago caused your textual entreaty. But my enmity didn't spring fully formed from MPDG's head in your lap in the back seat. I've lost out on better girls than her before.

But always before to better guys, Duuuude.

I suppose my issues began with your appearance the first day you reported to the unit. Grown men should not have blonde hair, and people in the Army shouldn't cut it that way. But it was really your voice that got me, Duuuude. I never hoped to meet the obvious casting choice for lead in a remake of Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, and certainly never expected him to be sitting two desks over from mine.

Now had you actually been raised in the wild by Keanu Reeve's impersonators on a diet of hallucinogen mushrooms I would be prepared to forgive this. But you're from fucking Georgia, went to boarding school there, and college in South Carolina. I'd forgive you, or at least understand, if you sounded like Super Cracker, but you don't.

It's like the man said: You're Australian! Be Australian!

And yet despite all of that I tried. I invited you to that trivia night, and holy shit, despite all appearances to the contrary you're not actually a moron. Intellectually. But afterwards the attitude was out, as were you, and the next day I find out you'd gotten a DUI your second week here, quite possibly ending your career.

Then there was the DC trip. Your shameless, unending, and clearly unreciprocated moves on Mysterious Girl made me ashamed to have invited out to the bar that first night. Your encore performance when she felt bad about your subsequent shunning and told me (much to all of our regret) to invite you the last night sealed it.

Between the subtle talk about how you "don't like white girls" (does MPDG know?), practically pouring that drink down her throat, and general asshattery, I had to flee. But the sleazy t-shirt, purple cardigan, and matching poofball hat you wore to a bar where the majority were wearing a tie was a nice touch. I'm just disappointed that it took me a few days to dub it your "snow wigger" costume.

Shall I go on? There was the S&M t-shirt you wore to the staff dinner in combination with the jeans that were more rips than fabric. (Everyone on the plane to Louisiana four days prior thought you were a private.) The casual rape joke about that NPR story in the unmarked white van. (Is there any cliche you can avoid?) There's the stupid "special edition" Volkswagen (I guess not) you drive that looks like a Yugo and that you entirely predictably stuck in the snow for a week, necessitating our rescue and setting up The Lap Incident. What's that? Now it's out of the snow bank but in the shop 150 miles away? Of course it is.

That would all be enough to be going on with for reasons I don't like you, but the most bizarre thing out of the long list is that you're actually above average in job performance once you've bummed a ride to work or avoided the DUI patrols, so it wouldn't be a big deal day-to-day. I can repress the interior eye rolling and do the job.

But, alas, there is Her. You seriously screwed up our current friendship. You also killed some long-term potential there, although probably a lot less than I initially thought and you still do, to the extent you can think. But the really unforgivable thing is that because of you I think so much less of her now than I did two weeks ago.

So there's my answer to your inquiry. I don't think we're going to talk about it face to face. You may be right that we might live together in Afghanistan. That's actually fine, and doesn't actually require any resolution of my issues where you're concerned. I hated my last deployment roommate a fair bit more than you. And in a nice bit of symmetry, he had the misfortune to lay it to my exgirlfriend after I finally got rid of her, although he did sadly miss on the ultimate doom.