So this post will probably be deleted once the site goes public, but since it's one for just us and friends, and the fact that it's a fucking amazing story, I figured I'd share. Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. What I am about to tell you all is 100% true and happened just hours ago.
So I know this kid, let's call him "John." I've known John since Elementary School, and we went to the same Middle and High schools as well. John and I were never in similar social circles or ever really close, but we were also quite cordial and were never enemies by any means either. We went to different colleges and I figured I'd never see the guy again.
It had been about five years since I'd seen John when he just showed up at my work one day, starting a job in my exact department. The nature of this job generally fostered antisocial behavior, so to see a familiar face who you actually had something in common with was rare, and we became closer friends. He'd turned into a standup guy, and it was cool to have someone to go to the bar with on Fridays after work. I'd hear stories of his drunken debauchery on the weekends, but I didn't think much of it, because hey, we all had nights like that. He graduated from "acquaintance" to "friend" though I still didn't know that much about the guy outside of work.
So when John asked me at about 4pm today if I could give him a ride home because he had "car troubles," I thought nothing of it. Dude drives a shitty car, and his place was on the way. However, when he asked if I would mind stopping at the bar on the way back, I thought it somewhat strange. It's a fucking Monday for chrissakes, and I wasn't really feeling getting my work night drunk on. So, inquisitively, I asked why he wanted to stop at the bar. I figured he might have left his wallet or, worst case, was buying weed from someone there. Then he hit me with it.
"Um, I kinda had a rough Friday night. I went out drinking with Stacy (a married woman in her mid-30s whose last day at work was Friday) and a few of the guys from the office, and got absolutely blitzed. When I left the bar and hopped in my car, two cops almost immediately busted me and gave me an OUI. Stacy bailed me out."
This was obviously a stupid move, but I figured it was just a one-off case of bad judgment. Thank god Stacy was there to bail him out, right? Um, not really...
"So Stacy and I got a cab to a seedy hotel and fucked all night. She'd been sending me text messages for a few months about how her marriage was on the rocks and how she wanted my junk, so, in a moment of weakness, I went back to a hotel with her and we spent the night together."
MILFs, as most of us males know, are a rare and valued catch, and I was congratulatory of my good buddy. Sure, he'd lost his license, but he'd picked up a prized MILF, blessed with worlds of experience and a failing marriage! I've got two gigs on my computer dedicated to this very topic! "Way to go man!" I exclaimed as I went to high-five John.
"Um, no," he said trembling. "She went home the next day to her husband, who found my name and number in her phone, and he called me today to 'have a chat' after work at the bar. I need you to come in with me and look intimidating in case he brings friends, but I promise I don't want you to get involved. My goal is to try to talk it out with him and hope it doesn't get physical."
(Now, I'll grant that at this point, one could draw judgments on my particular judgment in selecting friends, but I can swear upon my grandfather's grave that this guy showed ZERO signs of shadiness in the nearly 20 years I'd known him prior. If for the sake of the flow of the story, attempt to push those judgments of my character judgment out of your mind)
But yeah, holy fucking shit. He of course happens to tell me this as we're sitting outside the bar, so I really only had two options: I could either a) leave my friend to his certain (and probably deserved) doom with no backup, or b) go into the bar, become at least somewhat guilty by association, and prevent, if only through my presence, possibly some violence. Despite having sympathy for the cheated-on husband ("just to let you know, if you did this with my girlfriend, I'd probably kill you in cold blood, but sure, I'll get your back") I went into the bar with John, ordered a Diet Coke, and attempted to avert my eyes from the impending disaster.
Angry Husband, of course, was waiting there for John, along with a large tattooed man (who almost assuredly could have killed John if given the chance). "Are you John?" he asked, to which my friend sheepishly responded in the affirmative. Angry Husband then verbally laid into my friend, calling him every name in the book while shooting down every apology attempt that John offered up. Honestly, like I said, I didn't blame the guy, and his immediate next move (punching John square in the jaw) was, in my opinion, justified as well. John blocked his next three punches before the bartender and bouncers stepped in, kicking Angry Husband and Tattooed Guy out of the bar.
Predictably, they sat right outside the bar, waiting for us to come out and receive our pummeling. And let me tell you, wild fucking horses could not have dragged me from my stool and Diet Coke at this point, and the bartender, seeing the utter fear in my innocent bystander-looking face, called the local constabulary, who separated us from our prospective assailants and assured us a safe release (staggered departures in different directions, and they hadn't ever gotten a good look at my car), from which I drove John directly home, mostly in silence, minus me saying "you probably deserved a lot worse, that was your best-case scenario right there."
Now, I apologize for this story not being wildly funny, somewhat anticlimactic ending (okay, I'm not sorry for that) and its lack of dick jokes, but it's four hours later and I'm still shaking a bit, and needed to have some catharsis somewhere. I'm also not sure where it goes from here - am I now on their radar? Is this guy going to finish the job he started on John? Can I get these yellow and brown stains out of my boxer briefs? - but I know that I sure ain't going to see John the same way again. Right now, I plan to (if possible) wash my hands of him and this situation from here on out, and whatever happens to the guy happens to the guy. It sucks, but I can't risk not being so lucky next time.
If this was my Monday, I sure can't fucking wait to see Tuesday.