A few days ago a man I’d become rather fond of died alone in his house at the age of 40. By most people’s standards W may not have been the picture of health, however one might argue that he was the picture of a life well-lived.
He was handsome … well-spoken … cultured and at times quite charming in his own right. Our paths had crossed several years ago at the home of NSSA (Not So Starving Artist) during an Iron Bowl party #RollTide. I was arm deep into a bag of Oreos when I felt the bag closing over my hand. I looked up only to find a stocky, Rolex wearing schlub staring me down. It was W and in that moment I instantly knew that he was
the heir to the Summer’s Eve fortune “peculiar” which is just a nice southern way of calling someone an “a**hole.” W was an attorney, from LA (Lower Alabama) that loved expensive alcohol, watches, young blondes and his dog (not in that order). People either loved him or they hated him; there was no in between.
Eventually, and I’m not sure how it happened, W won me over in spite of the fact that I reminded him of our past encounter for at least 2 years after the incident. Thankfully, it became a joke and ultimately our meet cute story. I grew to genuinely like him, though admittedly I’m not sure if I ever really knew him. Then again, do you ever really know someone?
A couple of years ago W convinced me to introduce him to Cici, my younger sister. While she wasn’t blonde, she was young. W liked them young and dumb and full of … anything except life experience. He believed “women in their late 20s and early 30’s were somehow tainted by the men they’d met along the way.” He preferred his women fresh out of undergrad – the fresher, the better.
NSSA said it would never work, that W and Cici were too different. He was right. They didn’t last 5 minutes. W had expected to meet the early 20’s, non-tainted version of me. Instead he met Cici, who can best be described as a combination between a Barbie doll and an extra from Bad Girl’s Club. W was looking for a senator’s wife and Cici’s more like a Basketball Wives kinda girl. But I digress …
About a year after that, we both found ourselves at a frenemy’s house during a cook off and W, half a bottle of scotch in, decided it was a good occasion to profess his love for me. “We would make an amazing couple” he said. “You’re exactly what I need … you’re perfect for me.”
“And you are drunk W!” I smiled. He was right, I was exactly what he needed; however, he was few years late with his proclamation. And secondly, I’d dated one of his friends and wasn’t going down that wayward path. And thirdly (can I say that? yes I can), Thirdly I don’t date attorneys anymore.
W, despite his flaws was a good man. Did he drink too much? Absolutely. Was he rude? Oh my God, was he rude. An ageist? Chiggedy check. Sexist? At times, absolutely. Could he have used the right woman to smooth out those rough edges? Without a doubt. And still he was a good man. A good person.
W was found dead by LLF last Wednesday, March 18th, 2015. A day which also happened to be my
29th birthday. He was a successful, 40 year old man. Never married … no children. A confirmed bachelor with no prospects in sight, though he had been engaged some years ago to some girl who could have easily played Malibu Barbie in a Pixar film.
Unfortunately, W’s death has managed to raise more questions than answers for many of us that “knew” him or even knew of him. While being single is by no means a curse, are singles ultimately existing in a Wife or Death Situation? God, I hope not.