“I go into stealth!” I shout. The majority of my group groan, while some laugh and shake their heads. “Guys, come on, I’m a rogue, this is what we do!”
Faust shakes her head disapprovingly. “There goes the weird Drow, heading into stealth again. Who didn’t see that coming?” She asks in her character’s voice.
“Okay,” The dungeon master starts. “we have Ambrose in stealth. What’s everyone else doing?”
My best friend, Stanley, sits in one of my comfy rocking chairs in the corner of the entertainment room, watching myself and my Dungeons & Dragons group as we start our bimonthly game. He’s never seen the game played before, and although it seems like he’s disinterested, I can tell different.
Stanley and I have known each other for twenty-five years. I know almost everything about him, and he knows virtually everything about me. To say that Stanley is more of a sibling to me than a best friend would be a drastic understatement, but it’s true. There are even times when I think he knows me better than my wife does. To outsiders, the way we talk to each other is mean, disrespectful, and crass. But to us, our terminology is a carefully agreed upon expression of sincere friendship. Likewise, but contrary, the way my D&D group and I speak to one another is foreign to Stanley.
From my seat, at the opposite end of my billiards table, I struggle to watch his reactions as I keep up with the game.
“I’m going to summon a thunderbolt!” Klacious, our Cleric Dwarf informs us.
“Umm, won’t you hit several people by doing that?” Responds Saren, the Aasimar Cleric.
Stanley runs his fingers through his beard, watching intently, trying to understand what we’re saying, and how the rules are administered by our Dungeon Master.
For all the name-calling, insulting, and arguing Stanley and I do, people have a difficult time understanding our friendship. The truth is, there are times when I don’t understand it myself. But our dynamic works. The intimacy we share (though I am loathed to call it that) as best friends is strong. It is one built upon acute trust and respect. These qualities, though, were hard to achieve and took time. In my earlier blog post, CTRL + ALT + DEL, I referenced an event where I nearly passed away. What I did not disclose was that it was Stanley who facilitated the ride which took me to the hospital and saved my life.
The bond that I share with the people in my D&D group is different than the one I share with Stanley, that much is clear, though to what degree isn’t easy to identify. Each member of the group is someone I value in entirely different ways. Each friendship, like the friends themselves, is utterly unique with its own oddities.
My dear Faust is one of my best friends, even though we do not see each other as much as I would like. She has a scientific, calculating mind and a warm heart, even if she doesn’t always want to let people know that. Klacious is friendly and warm in his own ways, too, with a peculiar sense of humour. Llyod, our former leader and Dungeon Master, is one of the kindest, strangest people I have ever known, and probably the member of the group I identify with the most. Manfred is the old man of the group. Like a dirty old Uncle, he tells inappropriate jokes that make us all laugh, groan, and cry. But I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Saren, in real life, is the epitome of what a “good” person looks like. Kind, considerate, and thoughtful…except when he doesn’t knock on the bathroom door. Ursala and Rue are a real-life couple. Like peanut butter and pickles, or French fries and milkshakes, they compliment each other in all the right ways. Rounding out the group is the Sage, our current Dungeon Master. When I first met Sage, I found him to be rude, condescending, and a little mean. Not a lot has changed, actually (I’m kidding). But more than those qualities, he’s also a good friend I’d never want to give up.
These nine people represent two different parts of my life. From someone, I have known since I was just a young man, to friends I hope to have for years to come. Although we all bonded for completely different reasons, we all understand that it’s not the path that we took to get to the destination that matters. It’s the fact that we did it together, which means the most.
And with that… “Smoke pellet! I go into stealth!”
….now you don’t.
Reading in stealth mode. Pickles.