A few of my relationships are due to this site. Beyond the assortment of trolls, there are actual people. There's of course the first, Jen, who I've still never met yet who somehow doesn't feel like a troll. Trolls don't screw up the height of my desk chair. Back in the beforetime, I eviscerated the AW's rudeness here. She responded as she does—pleadingly and tearfully—and I seriously doubt we would have ever hooked up without that provocation. I attribute the fact that d'Andre and I now talk more than once a decade to his reading this site. Well, that and his wife. And in another long-deleted post, I antagonized Minette from lurking-troll to baking-whale-buddy status. Now there's no getting rid of her. She's parked her shopping cart full o' junk in my server space and is constantly pestering my bandwidth for spare change.
But let's face it. This site's bread and butter isn't making friendships; it's setting them aflame on someone's doorstep. I don't mean affectionate ribbings like with Dorkass or Allie or Katrina. I mean full-blown kissoffs.
Some don't take. Kathy and Mike Mulligan are still around, still inviting me to dinner. I'd like to think they never saw my kiss-off post, but it'd be in keeping with their overall world view to think it was complementary. Other posts are more effective. How do you sleep? is one of my favorites of all time, due in no small part to the fact that Yoko wrote me. My posts (See also: I, II) were hurtful, she said. She had considered me a friend. All these years, she had defended me to my many detractors, only now to be stabbed in the back. The degeneration of my friendship with Lennon had absolutely nothing to do with her, she asserted. In fact, to protect his fragile soul and our friendship, she would bear the burden of my betrayal in silence, alone. She would never tell my friend about the posts' existence, lest his feelings be crushed by my cruelties. She would selflessly sacrifice herself.
"Bet you she doesn't last a month," I said to friends. "There's no way she can resist nailing herself to a cross for his consumption. It's her raison d'etre." No one would take the bet, and in fact I never heard from Lennon again. After 12 years of near-daily contact. An odd coincidence, that.
Some friendships fall over right away, without being rocked back and forth a few times. For instance, my first ban stuck. At one point during that fateful weekend, we were alone with the eldest and brattiest child. He was swinging my binoculars like nunchucks. The AW asked him to stop. He laughed and swung them faster. "If you do not stop, neither you nor your parents will ever come here again," I promised. He paused, laughed, and continued. Neither he nor his parents has ever returned. So disrespectful was their visit, so profound my distaste, I have not seen them since, period. That post, too, was another unfond farewell to a 12 year friendship.
It's okay. I'd rather have the posts.