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By Christopher Boire
I first met Michael in junior high school. I was in seventh grade, he was in eighth. I had joined the school's Drama Club at my mom's persuasion. She thought my quiet ways were unhealthy and said that extracurricular activities would be good for me. As it was my first day, I mostly kept to myself like I always do. Not that I was being rude - I just didn't like talking with other people. I eventually started daydreaming while others were doing improvs and monologues. Then, hearing a torrent of laughter, I looked up to see a scrawny, dark-colored boy, about a foot taller than me, performing a monologue as Richard Simmons.
Later on, I found out that he already knew who I was. He was friends with my brother Nicholas, who had quite a large group of friends of his own. I saw Michael several times after that, at Drama Club meetings and when he came to visit my brother. Mike was loud and full of life, completely opposite of my personality. On more than one occasion, he reminded me of a comic relief character from some show, coming up to people with a laugh and a grin. Still, though, his presence in my life did not make that much of an impact. At least not yet.
Our first real one-on-one encounter happened three years later. It was a week after my birthday, in my sophomore year of high school. I had answered the phone and, upon hearing Mike's voice, immediately gave the phone to my brother, assuming the call was for him. After a moment, the phone was given back to me, my brother saying that the call was for me. Confused, I took the phone and heard the sentence that would change me and my life.
"Hey, a bunch of us are going to hang out at Stephanie's house. Wanna come?"
This was the first invitation to a group party I had ever received. I had been invited to visit other friends before, but always just with one person. I never had the courage to go to a gathering with a group of people before. I didn't want to sound rude, so I agreed. Once there, I was shocked at how easily they accepted me into their little group. Afterward, Mike gave me his number, saying, "We should definitely hang out more."
Soon after that, Mike and I began to see each other more often. I was wary at first. I figured that his attitude toward me was based on the laws of association and that the reason he wanted to be my friend was because he was friends with my brother. With time, however, he demonstrated that he wanted to be friends with me, Chris, and not just "Nicholas' brother." This meant a lot to me. While I never felt any contempt toward my brother, I did feel like I was seen as just a relation to him at times. Mike made me feel like an individual, like he liked me for the things that made me who I was. This was the major impact he had on my life.
Soon, Mike became one of my closest friends. We would visit one another constantly and spend the day playing video games, watching anime or just talking about school. One thing did bother me, though. The more we talked, the more I found it strange that we were friends. While he was outgoing and energetic, I was reserved and mostly kept to myself. A typical day between us would consist of Mike talking while I listened for most of the time. The idea that he would want to be friends with someone like me baffled me.
This became more of a concern when I saw how other people reacted around him. People loved hanging out with Michael - he was the school's social icon, the one everyone wanted to know. He could sit down with anyone and become friends with them in a heartbeat. But instead, he chose me. And for a long time, I just kept wondering, why?
"I enjoy spending time with you. When I'm with most people, I have to be careful of what I say or do, because they get offended or hostile. You don't really judge me or anything. You just listen to what I have to say. Around you, I feel like I can really be myself," he explained.
He just said it out of the blue one day, while we were talking in my basement. That last phrase - "I feel like I can really be myself" - was the one thing I wanted most of all. Even though all I could do was listen to his problems without being able to offer advice, that was enough for him. I was someone he could turn to when he needed to get something off his chest. My friendship was important to him, and that made a world of difference for me.
Michael and I are very different; that much is obvious. It wasn't until that talk in my basement that I realized it was our differences that made our friendship tighter. I relied on his extrovert personality to draw me out of my social shell. This helped me gather the courage to make other friends and even get a girlfriend (going on six months now). In turn, I offered my ears and opinions whenever Mike needed someone to talk to about his problems. Our flaws cancelled each other out.
If someone told me that I would be friends with Michael on the day I met him, I probably would have given them the "You crazy?" look. Now, Mike's one of my best friends, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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