Dear Joe,

Joe, we’ve been pals since I was 15. I was a fresh-faced, doughy little youngster who had no idea what life had in store for him. I remember being even littler, when my dad and you were friends. I remember crying and yelling at my father for spending so much time with you. “You don’t even care about your family when you hang out with Joe. You know he doesn’t care about you like we do! He’s killing you!” But then there I was, years later, chillin’ with Joe on a daily basis.

We started because I saw you and Phil Morris hanging out with a TON of people. It seemed like everywhere I looked people were friends with you or Phil. I remember thinking “Hey, there’s got to be something to that Joe guy.” So I found you and for the first three years I could only interact with you through those older than me. It never really bothered that I had to shell out $4 for whenever we needed guaranteed chill time. But then, we progressed.

After I turned 18 we hung out at least 20 times a day, sometimes even more. Then I just got tired of you Joe. You started to make me feel like shit, every day, but the only way I could feel better after hanging out with you, was by hanging out with you. It was an awful, self-defeating cycle. Finally one night, sick, I said “Fuck you, Joe! We’re done.”

I did fine for a while without you, until one night, while probably drunk, I decided to spend that cash to chill with you again. Shit! There we were hanging out every day soon after that. It stayed pretty much that way up until today. You’ve been with me through my parent’s divorce, breakups, pretty much every concert I’ve been to, disc golf games, hikes (weird I know), drug trips, every time I drink booze, long car rides, etc. If I was at a shitty party, me and people that knew you or Phil could go hang out outside and form our little cabal where the only thing we had in common was we hung out with you. If I was alone at a concert all I had to do to strike up a conversation was to go outside and chill with you and I had instant friends.

But Joe, man, it’s getting fucking old. I now to spend almost $6 to hang out with you or Phil and there’s no way me and Bronson or Mr. Checkers are going to get acquainted. I’m better than that. But you know Joey, Phil, it’s not just the price. I’m getting sick of being so fucking dependent on you. You were great crutches for these past 8 years, you really were. But as the immortal Murtaugh said “I’m getting too old for this shit.” I never intended this to be daily a friendship, it just happened. It’s getting damn close to the time where we need to part ways. You can go back to Turkey and hang out with your camel herd or whatever and I’ll keep making my way here. I know no matter what I say or do, you’re going to make me feel like absolute dog shit for the week after we stop hanging out and you’re not going to stop calling me. I’ve been through this before, I know how it goes. There’s a damn good chance I’m going to answer your call whenever I say we’re done for good. I’ll throw down my $5.94 just to have a guaranteed 20 chill out sessions with you and it’ll be just like old times.

You have been there for a few years now,  but you’re kind of a shitty friend and just sort of an asshole and I’m really trying to cut those people out of my life these days. Anyways man, it’s lookin’ like it’s getting pretty damn tough for me to get to hang out with you these days. I think most places forbid people from chilling with you inside regardless of if it’s 7 degrees outside.

Let’s be honest, I’ll give you a call when I get to the bar after work.

*cough * * cough *

Chuck Brokowski

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