Just found out a gb committed suicide last week.
The most charming, intelligent, handsome, funny ####er you could ever hope to meet. Also a lifelong pathological liar. Before I met him in HS (he went to a different school), I always thought that term applied to people who lied a lot... and then I met him and understood the "pathology" part; he couldn't help himself- even over the most benign, mundane and meaningless things.
Unfortunately, this also applied to huge, life-defining things like: college, gradschool, jobs, lovelife. I had the pleasure of knowing him in HS, for a period during college when he was living with friends at UCSB while attending SB City College. I then ran into him here in NYC where he had moved after gradschool. By this time, his resume included anything from Oregon, Cal, Stanford and Harvard (dual graduate MBA and public policy degree).
He was working for a hedgefund last I saw him- just a few weeks ago. Or not. I learned long ago to let his amazing stories outside of the here and now and what I could see in front of us wash over and through me- but they were good ones. He had an amazing ability to spin a story- even of his own life. But this meant lots of burned bridges and painted-in corners (and younger and dumber girlfriends who couldn't or wouldn't question any of the inconsistencies in his life)... and our mutual friedns and I feel pretty certain that he got himself stuck in one too many lie, or that the pathology (why somebody as smart, funny, etc would need to lie about himself in the first place) finally caught up with him.
At some point in college one summer I ran into him wearing an Oregon State u-23 Select team jacket. Most of you know that I played in college and semipro after- it was my life in HS and I pretty much knew everybody in the state of California our age who was that good.... and as a kid who lived in the town next door, I knew for a fact he not only wasn't that good, he nad never really even played. But all of a sudden he assumed this new identity on his way to attend U of Oregon where he was going to play on the team. I remember being equal parts pissed (I had dedicated my life to the sport and felt like THIS lie was finally stepping on my toes too much) and equal parts enthused- how the hell was he going to pull this one off. He accepted all of my requests to join in me in training that summer, but would spin some kind of last minute- oh-my-nose, or dude... my grandma broke her hip... yarns to bail out.
I never learned what happened with that until just now after speaking to a gb who told me the rest of the story from the point of view of a guy who went to U of O. The guys on the team there heard there was going to be this amazing new recruit coming to play and were psyched that their team was getting a boost. My friend showed up, did a physical, got his training kit (and supposedly game kit as well), and then blew his knee out the day before their first practice. He was in a knee brace consistently for 6 months and then deemed unfit to ever play again. This was the level of his commitment to the lie. Of course, he was back home for the holidays during this time and playing turkey day football games at full speed...
His life was a source of constant amusement, irritation and ultimately inspiration to me. HIs life stories became the stuff of legend and hilarity for those of us who knew him the longest, shared whenever new ones came in. Against my better intentions, I couldn't but feel jealous of the guy for fabricating all of these things I had worked so hard to put myself through (soccer, college, gradschool, relationships), but then ultimately I coudlnt help but feel inspired that every day, our lives are of our own creation- we are free to make of them what we will, and he did it to the utmost.
And I am partially sure that even this ####### suicide is a fabrication for him to move on to something else, or away from something else... and I hope against hope that I will bump into him again in NoLita and get to listen to some lunatic, far-fetched yarn knowing that this madcap un-reality is still on the planet.
Three miles with a cane could be interesting.
