As an aspie, I slowly abandon most irl contacts. Fuck them. They're trivial and boring, and/or stupid. I keep some friends, among them my most interesting friend, who I'll leave for another time.
My Turk friend used to be one of my very closest friends, and the one I would open up the most with, about most issues one could talk about while growing up. He is actually Kurdish, and grew up outside of a city in central Turkey, herding goats, chasing wolves, and throwing rocks at each others, for lack of proper toys. His father, a business entrepreneur came to Norway to get rich, and did. He is an awful man, and is in Bosnia or something now, getting richer, fucking a 25 year old, whom we could find hidden away crying now and then.
With these genes from his father, his obnoxiousness was set, but he also inherited a certain intelligence and sense of humor from his mother, culminating in a very odd beast of a boy.
My first meeting with him, days before he appeared in my class, was out in the neighborhood, when I was 9. I rode my bicycle, to visit a friend. The Turk stopped me, blocking my path with his bicycle. He looked at me sternly, and told me to notice my tyres. He assured me they were poor, soft and of bad quality. I should be ashamed. He then kicked against his own tyres, and told me those were hard, and strong! And of adequate quality.
"Oookay."
He then rode off with his bike, brimming with pride.
Our early friendship was very dr jekyll and mr hyde like, as during school he would preserve himself (from being called "pakkis") by joining the bullies in bullying me. After school he would apologize for all of it, and invite me for food, cartoons, violent chinese movies, anime, video games and hentai magazines. The latter I would often steal from him.
As we grew older, he begun to fuck people, while I did not. He insisted on informing me of all my faults, such as not being cool enough, and not smoking, but always as a well meaning mentor. I finally gave in, and had my first beers with him, and my first bong hits. During one drunk I made out with him, as part of a graduation bet. I wasn't impressed, and luckily for me, it was after my make-out debut (which was a romantic random drunk chick in the dark randomly laying next to me on the same lawn, among other blacked out graduation partiers, I swear, I never even saw her, just c'mere mwamwamwa, and that didn't impress me much either.)
There was then a new period that begun, we were like a duo of local useless scum. We prided ourselves in our useless scummyness. We would make a stylish routine out of it, where we wore cool yellow shades, drove out of the city, hooked up with newfound friends from my new (bully and turk less schools), and got stoned. Then we would relish in the "risk" of driving the whole way back, high as kites, and with hash in our pockets.
I went to the military (mandatory in Norway. He went a year later), and then he got a bit odd. He called me to inform he he had tried to commit suicide over some forced marriage business, that later worked as intended, and he now has 2 or 3 kids. His suicide attempt was one of the most textbook cry-for-help examples I have ever known though, as he cut his wrists, then ran around the house screaming, waking his mother and sister, spraying blood everywhere.
After coming back, I had gradually changed over long time. Bullies were long gone, outlook on life different, behaviour more mature, etc. The Turk however was as if stagnant at an age of 15, but now much more intense. Every time we went out, he wanted something amazing to happen, sortof like Barney in How I Met your Mother, except, not funny, cus it's real, and you're there.
Whenever in public, anything he said, would be loud, theatrical, fake and usually an untrue or heavily exaggerated self-promoting anecdote, meant for everybody else in the vicinity. I was merely there to make it appear as if he was having a legitimate conversation. He would be sending obvious glances into all directions, to make sure everyone else were paying attention.
One time he decided to impress girls, ran off, and jumped into the fjord, nearly drowned.
One time we went out, he pulled out a huge chunk of cash, solely to show the door man, apparently to make him jealous. The cash was from the store that his dad had gotten rich on, and then passed on to his son, who pissed it all away litterally by acting like such a douchebag, nobody wanted to shop there again.
Not acting mean tho, but for example talking into a hung-up phone, pretending to be ordering large quantities of Colombian cocaine, expressively, "Yes yes! Two kilos! Colombian cocaine! Excellent! No, no, don't kill him yet."
Whyyyyyy did he do this in front of customers?
He thought it would be fun! His sister, who took care of the business economics, while his brother was clowning around, secretly came to me once, asking me to hook her up with weed, because she was at her last nerve, and didn't dare up any more doses of legal medicines. She did no attempt to hide that it was her brothers retardedness that was eating her up.
He had numerous car accidents, most of them minor, and all of them due to retarded negligence. One time he drove top speed through a residential area, and all of us passengers kept telling him "Do you know what Children are Playing means!?"
"You do realize that if you KILL a fucking kid now... "
"People WILL call the police, we're past a 100 kmph you maniac!!!"
Yes. Soon after parking police came, we all ditched into the nearby shadows, like sewer rats, and hoped hoped hoped that they would just take him along. We saw him gesticulating, pointing, dancing around. They laughed, and left. Wtf...
ONE TIME
We were sharing a joint in the cathedral park. We spotted some young students who were having an old fashioned picnic, with prepared food, and a good time. We felt good for them, so good, that he got up, and walked right over to them. I was high, and stupidly assuming he wouldn't traumatize them somehow.
I finished my splif, walked over to them, and saw him smiling, shoes and socks off, waving at me, holding a can of beer. Well, I thought, that looks good!
As I approached, however, I noticed they were all looking down, eating quickly and nervously. He was the only one smiling, telling me to sit down, take my shoes off, and grab a beer. He then said
"I told them all about us! How we live in the street, and mug people for drug-money and stuff."
"No... no no no no no, up, you, up now, with me, come, we go. We go now." like giving orders to a dog.
"But noooooooooo, relaaaaaaaaaax!" (imagine Saddam in South Park)
I got stern, and managed to get him up and away from there.
Shortly after we went through a pedestrian avenue. There was a young girl sitting on a bench, looking around, probably a summer tourist. He rushed over.
"No! Come back! No!"
For some reason he guessed she was foreign, and asked right away in English where she was from. She said she was a student from Israel.
"Come here! Let the girl be!"
He then told her that he himself was a palestinian muslim, and that that, that and that camera was installed there to make sure nobody got hurt. She was obviously looking very worried. He finally came over. By the time he had his third idea I was seriously pissed off.
One time we decided to go to a barn yard festival, for the reasons of fuck-it-why-not-lolol, we went there, it was dreary and possibly dangerous (at the same time) so we immediately went back, this time with opened beers everywhere, in a van, along mountain/fjord road, no seatbelts present, broken door-lock, veering from side to side, average speed of 110 kmph, while he repeated "I drive much better when I'm drunk!"
That was one of the times where I contemplated the possibility of instant death or paralyzation, and tried to make my peace with it.
ONE TIME
I had a can of beer, while he drove us to the city. He decided it was best to park us right behind a cop car, with cops outside of it.
"Kay, hide the can when you get out, can't have it in the car."
Like a ninja I snuck around the car, and did the "in-plain-view" magic trick, oh look, another random beercan in the street! Phew! No, no phew, cus Turk was suddenly not there, but was jogging across the street - towards police - and a crying... bleeding... woman.
I prayed that he was there to at least be of some help, even though none was needed, but then I heard him yell "It's just because I'm black! Police violence! Police violence!" as they gently guided him away. I figured we better find the weed we intended to come for, and get the fuck away from all civilization, before he gets another impulse. We went looking for my brother in one of the only, truly shady bars in the city. So shady, it closed soon after. My brother used to hang out in the upper floor, and that's the kind of floor where everyone looks at you when you enter, cus you're probably not supposed to be there. I recognized a single face, asked for my brother, he told me no luck, I nodded and left.
Behind me
I hear
"Anybody got some good cocaine? Colombian! I'm looking for kilos!"
I walked so fast, out of there, so fast, out out out, theres COPS out in the street, theres MAFIOSOS behind us, and theres retard of the year in between, we get out, he runs behind me, happy as a lark "did you hear that? I asked them about cocaine, lol!"
"SHUTTHEFUCKUPDUDE!!!"
"Whaaat, it was funny!"
yeah, and a guy comes out, catches up to him, and goes "Hey, how much you wanted?"
I walked away from there, so fast, I really didn't want to hear, I didn't but I still heard "nono, I was just joking"
NOOOOOOOOOOOO
There was one point, I'm not sure, but I think it's the same night, where I ran. Just ran away from him. He ran behind, confused at where I was headed in such a hurry.
Then things got tedious in another way. He found lots of new friends, and begun to call me whenever he wanted weed. I thought, whatever, I just wanna play my computer games in peace, but - due to.. the stories.. none of my dealers want anything to do with this bozo, and that was a big obstacle for him.
So... to do him a favor, I would go there, buy it for him, then get my "favor-bonus" to make it worth my while. After some times of this, he explained that it would be better if he could get my contact directly, BECAUSE, he was running his own little scam. He was telling a bunch of pimply students that HE was a bad-ass drug dealer. So when they called him, he called me, I called dealers, I got the weed, broke off a bit for myself, he got the rest, broke off a bit for himself, and the pimplies got only a little crumb for their money, and felt cheated.
"Okay, well, fuck them. How about that?"
So, he found out a better idea - he noted down every email address on my msn, that sounded drug-ish, including a Belgian that told me he had been contacted by him.
Apparently, he just went there, remembering where I would go get the weed, he just went and knocked on their door. Realizing who he was, after he introduced himself, they let him in, to just maybe give him a chance. By "they" I mean aging alcoholics, the dealer himself in methadone, with a grown daughter who wont call him, a dog he just had to put down, you know, problems... the other guest looking like a viking, always asleep, always. One guy with a million debt, and not to the government, but to people who don't care about the law. Tired people, with serious problems, and a viocious substance habit to drown all that.
There he was, the spoiled hyperactive Turk, telling them about "respect", as if citing movie quotes (a manner in which he often spoke, further annoying me), and this isn't the random "wigger" talk, this is epic stuff, he talked about stabbings, shootings, hell bombings for that matter, things even a 3 year old would be sceptical to, and he means it, which is just beyond insulting. You don't even know where to begin, "WHAT shootout, I LIVE here!" "Well, I'm telling you, it happened. 1000 shots fired." "ARE YOU RETARDED!?" But at that point he would get all manly and aggressive, and people would step down, and just "okay okay, the airforce bombed the playground, I gotcha."
The dealer got up, a self proclaimed pacifist, snapped the cellphone and money out of his hands, and gave him a good, old bitchslap across the face, and instructed him to just fuck off out of there. Alone, stunned, shocked, I was told his mouth and eyes were wide open. He had never, ever been put in his place like that. From there he came straight to my place, and yelled me out, and left.
Then I didn't talk to him for years. I even tried to be "the bigger man" and make contact after a while, but he didn't respond.
My brother met him, but was coldly ignored. Another friend met him, while he was out walking with his wife and kid, and apparently he had begun to yell stupid gangsterisms in order to appear awesome.
Some weeks ago I ran into him randomly, at my local store. He seemed surprised, and smiled, and asked how I was doing. Never in mood for bullshit, I told him "Man, you sure carry a grudge."
He laughed nervously at it, and I decided to drop it, and asked why he didn't respond on fb. He told me he didn't use fb, but that I could e-mail him.
I have still not found a moment that spurred me to send that mail, and most of me is feeling that it is over, and not really worth resurrecting.
Notice, though, that all these wild episodes happened whenever others were around. When nobody else were around he was calm and intelligent, but that was sortof not enough, because people will always be around, at some point or other, and it was just not worth the hastle.
