Why I Never Fully Cut Off My Most Toxic Friend

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a day ago

Sometimes—there is more to the story.
Mason pulled up in his lifted truck, engine roaring and bass rattling the door panels. The headlights threw long beams across the street like stage lights summoning me to a set.
The truck towered over me, rhythmically shaking the ground under its weight. Mason leaned out the window, flashing a wide grin, 'Well? Are you just going to stare? Get in!'
I climbed in, already knowing the plan. We would stop by his place to grab his girlfriend, then head out to the concert. It felt like the start of one of those nights that could go anywhere — and, unfortunately, it did.
Within a few minutes of us riding, he started telling me about this new girl he'd been chatting with, who was, 'Sizzling hot.' He went on and on, sharing intimate details of their conversation.
I felt slightly uncomfortable hearing about his side piece project, given we were on the way to pick up his girlfriend. He seemed to be overcompensating, and eager to impress me and other people.
In the midst of my discomfort, I realized how fast we were going. Houses were flying by as his engine roared. He was pushing his luck on yellow lights, flying through busy intersections.
'I'd prefer not to die tonight, buddy. Can you slow down?' I said, with a sardonic half smile.
And part of me wanted to just say, 'Hey, relax man.'
I got him to change the subject from his side piece, so that we could discuss other matters. It was awkward enough to hear about and I had other things in common with him, namely our love of metal music.
His girlfriend, Jenna, got into the car. She was beautiful and fun. I couldn't fathom why he felt the need to jeopardize what he had.
Then Things Went South
The concert was a great time. We were headed home that night, feeling sleepy.
Mason was in the front, driving with Jenna in the passenger seat. Then, his phone rang. He didn't notice it — and his girlfriend, perhaps suspecting something awry, answered the phone. She said, 'Who is this?'
And after a few words exchanged, she hung up the phone, and all hell broke loose: it was the side girl, and Jenna was in the know.
She started screaming at him. He yelled back, denying it all, and they went back and forth, while he's driving fast at 11 PM on a dark weaving road. I clutched my seat like I was on a broken and out-of-control rollercoaster.
They went back and forth and I did my best not to shrivel up and die. Mason attempted to pull me into the argument saying, 'Don't you remember I was with you at my house that night?'
I said, 'Brother, I don't want to get involved in any of this. Just take me home, please.'
I managed to get home without the car flipping over.
After this complete blowup, I didn't see Mason for a few months. Then, he appeared out of the blue, and we began hanging out again, just going to the gym, playing video games, doing early 20-something guy things. He and his girlfriend had, unsurprisingly, broken up. He'd been a bit of a scumbag and deserved it.
After a few months, he vanished again. This was normal. He was one of those friends that just came and went over the years. Popping up out of nowhere without reason, and disappearing without explanation.
About three years later, he appeared on my front porch, knocking.
He said, 'Can I crash here? I'm having some problems at home. I won't stay long I promise.'
I nodded yes, with a bit of confusion.
He was nearly unrecognizable. He'd gained 100 lbs and grown a long beard. He stayed for the evening and we caught up, having a few beers and talking about life, forgetting all the drama and second-hand embarrassment he loved to heave onto me.
He'd been in and out of jobs over those years, always getting some new gig, or getting fired for myriad reasons that were always someone else's fault. I didn't understand why he couldn't right the ship and just chill out. My other friends often asked why I even stayed friends with Mason, given his track record. Which I understood. Mason wasn't the most sympathetic character.
I reasoned that I always enjoyed our company and he hadn't done me wrong up until then. Despite all the swirling nonsense and self-inflicted damage, he was genuinely nice and fun to hang out with.
Then, one night, he shared something. He always drank a lot more than I did, never seeming to stop after just one or two beers. He said, 'Hey, I have to tell you something. Don't freak out.'
He proceeded to tell me that his parents had been abusive (I have sufficiently moved details around to protect his identity). His mother was an alcoholic and his father had been quite violent, beating him up to the point of needing to go to the hospital with a broken nose. He lied to doctors about what happened, after his father threatened him with a second and third trip to the hospital if he didn't. On another occasion, he said his mother locked him in a closet for eight hours as punishment.
One after another, Mason itemized all these horrible things that happened to him, unloading them like they'd been stuffed in his closet all these years. It was quite sad and I wondered how anyone could survive such circumstances.
I also didn't know how to deal with him trauma dumping on me, and can't remember saying anything all that helpful beyond, 'I'm so sorry that happened to you.' I'd done some therapy myself and learned it was best just to listen in those moments. I thanked him for feeling comfortable sharing.
Ten years have now gone by. I think back on Mason's disastrous personal and professional life. I've come to suspect much of his personal chaos may be related to the abuse. Studies have shown this type of abuse can radically warp interpersonal relationships later in life, leading to more manipulation and emotional volatility. But I also know every case is different.
No, his bad upbringing doesn't condone or excuse his infidelities and deceptions. But it does provide context and reveal how damaging it can be.
After that night, he again vanished, and I only saw him one more time in person before he moved to the other side of the world, searching for something that may or may not exist. It brings to mind the old quote by author Robert Goolrick, 'If you don't receive love from the ones who are meant to love you, you will never stop looking for it.'
I often think of Mason's case when I deal with difficult, wholly unreasonable people in everyday life. I look past the deep frustration and animosity I feel, and try to remember there may be details I don't know that drive this behavior. Heck, if anything, it leaves me realizing, 'Wow. This person goes through their everyday life acting like this. It must be so chaotic.'
What I've realized is that there are many people in this world who spend much of their life recovering from toxic parenting. I've concluded, a bit darkly, that this world would have fewer problems if people who weren't ready or interested in having kids — didn't.
If you ever have a friend who is vulnerable to you in these moments, please take the time to listen. Don't pass judgement, or try to fix the situation, or add context, or dig for excessive details. Just being present in that moment can go a long way.
Every so often, I catch myself checking my phone, half-expecting a text out of the blue. Something like, 'Hey, hey! What's up, you free tonight?' And if that ever comes, I'll still say yes.
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