I remember the exact moment when TJ and I started becoming friends. We were coworkers sitting in a conference room celebrating another employee’s birthday. As the party wound down, people went around the room and announced their birthdays. He said, “August 13″ to which I replied, “Oh my god! Another Leo! Mine is August 15—no wonder we get along so well.” Everyone laughed.
The truth is that TJ never wanted to like me. When our former boss hired me to be the second writer in a small department at USC, TJ viewed me as a threat even though his workload became lighter. Sure, he asked me to edit his articles and I asked him to review the tone of my letters (ostensibly from the dean), but our tasks were different. When TJ told me months later that he had planned to hate me, I laughed at his silliness, but I then remembered his cool tone toward me when we first met during the hiring process. He wasn’t kidding.
As time went on, TJ and I discovered we had many similarities beyond our jobs and writing. We love Disneyland and went there together for our birthdays; we even like the same rides. We often found the same men attractive. We both love Gone with the Wind, and 
we have similar coffee cups only I have Rhett Butler and he has Scarlett O’Hara. When I was crying during the movie Enchanted, I sent TJ a text because he had urged me to see the film. His text reply was, “We are the same person.”
Indeed, he often seemed like the masculine version of me except that he goes to bed early, he doesn’t like animals, he has less confidence, and despite having many friends, he doesn’t seem capable of forming a long-term relationship with anyone. That should have been my first clue, but I know it’s hard to find the right person and perhaps more difficult when you are gay. I wanted TJ to find an amazing man, but as much as he let me into his world, I still only understand it from an outsider’s perspective. Most of all, I wanted him to be happy.
Five months after we met, I quit my writing job for another position at USC. It didn’t change our friendship; we still met for lunch, for coffee, or for a walk around campus. Another eight months later, TJ left academia for a job in the entertainment industry. He ended up working less than ten minutes from my house so we continued to hang out—only the locations were different. I have met his friends and his cousin; he has met my husband, my stepmother, and my friends. TJ and I have spent holidays together, and I have attended many parties at his house. 
I could never call him late at night, but I would text him about any subject and we would go back and forth exchanging messages. I will miss our texting.
I think ending a romantic relationship is easier than ending a friendship, but maybe that is because I am usually the dumper and not the dumpee. I’ve lost many friends in the past ten years, but in most cases, I understand what happened even if I don’t agree with the outcome. With TJ and me, it feels like I’m watching a bad Lifetime movie. I guess it started after his last Oscar party when his roommate became incredibly drunk and said horrible things about me, which I didn’t hear, but my husband did. I told TJ in an email that my husband and I would not be attending any more parties if his roommate was present. I didn’t tell TJ to ignite a fight; I only wanted him to know that if we turned down a party invitation, it wasn’t personal.
I never wanted or needed TJ to defend me from his roommate, but I thought TJ should know the truth. Then he left for Paris, a trip that he had planned for two years. He didn’t call me before leaving (another clue), and I was disappointed but I thought he would phone when he returned. He didn’t. I called him while I was driving, which was my mistake because the conversation became emotional for me. When I found out TJ had been home for almost two weeks (I thought it had been four days) and hadn’t bothered to say hello—not even a text or an email, I was hurt and I told him so. I got off the phone before I started crying, but I didn’t hang up on him. He thinks I did.
Three weeks passed, and I didn’t hear from him. On the advice of another friend, I left TJ a message emphasizing that I was not mad and that I cared about him. I asked if he still wanted to be friends. He returned my call the next day and left a message. It was long. It contained lies. It was painful. Tears were falling down my face before his message ended. I wailed. Like an animal. He wants to “take a break from our friendship.” A break? Even in a message, he couldn’t be completely honest. Our friendship is over.
I wish I had picked up the phone, but I don’t answer it when I’m working out. I don’t think TJ would have said some of those things to me directly. Maybe it’s better this way. He doesn’t even sound like the same person. I don’t know this new TJ with the cold voice, distant manner, and edgy tone. I don’t like him. I don’t know what I expected, but after three years of friendship, I never thought I would be dumped. I still love the old TJ, the friend who made the best gluten-free pizza, championed my writing, asked my advice, adored my husband, and flinched when I hugged him.
My husband has said on many occasions that TJ wants “everything to be nice.” Indeed, TJ became upset if my husband and I argued in front of him (but he also disliked any displays of affection). His attitude reminds me of those female Mormons who left the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints; they always say that their parents told them to “keep sweet.” Get real. Life isn’t nice and sweet all the time. I know TJ didn’t want to discuss his roommate, but I don’t regret being honest with him in an email. After all, if you can’t be honest with your good friends—especially over someone else’s behavior, then why remain friends?
Or maybe … no matter what the situation is … people—especially friends—cannot handle the truth.
AWW — XoXo
P.S. I apologize for my long absence. Godaddy and Wordpress were having security issues so I wasn’t able to access my blog for a month. If during that time you read my blog or my website, please run the following free software Malware and Trojan Remover on your computer to ensure that you didn’t pick up any cookies, viruses, or trojans. I will continue my Learning to Love LA Again series later this week.
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I have no sense of direction, but luckily, downtown Los Angeles is laid out on a grid system. Numbered streets run east and west while named streets run north and south. I often confuse the order of the named streets (e.g., Hope, Grand, Flower) so I definitely walked the longest way possible as I left Pershing Square (A) to find the Museum of Contemporary Art (B). I reminded myself that getting lost in a “new” city is exactly the point of being a tourist.
For example, I immediately stumbled upon LA’s Grand Central Market, which is a huge place full of restaurants and fresh-food stands. Since I had forgotten to eat, I decided to try EJ’s Grill. Initially, I wanted a slice of pizza, but against my better judgment, I opted for the chicken pita sandwich. Trying new food is part of the journey—right? Well, the “sandwich” was disgusting: dark-meat chicken mostly covered in fat swimming in three tablespoons of mayonnaise with one shred of lettuce. I gagged after one bite. I returned the food and got my money back.
Determined to get to the museum, I moved on still trying to figure out the best way to reach MOCA, which sits on Grand Avenue above an overpass.
Despite the cars zooming past me, the tunnel was quiet. Too quiet. The smell of exhaust filled my nostrils. Graffiti covers the sidewalk. One particular scrawl caught my eye, and I thought how it was similar to some of the modern art that I’ve seen in the past. I couldn’t resist taking a picture.
I watched as tourists took pictures of what has become one of the ugliest, yet best known, buildings in Los Angeles. Despite architect Frank Gehry’s tacky exterior design, Yasuhisa Toyota’s acoustics are to die for. I highly recommend seeing a concert here—just close your eyes and listen.
