The No Judgement Zone

“I was pretty irresponsible back in the early MySpace days. I’m pretty sure that there are semi-nude pictures of me floating around somewhere out in cyberspace.”

“So, what was your MySpace profile name again?”

-A recent conversation with a friend
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MySpace was a pretty weird place for me. I met some interesting, normal people; some regular normal people; and some interesting abby-normal people. This blog will be about someone from the latter category.

One of the many groups I belonged to was a group for Chicagoans to talk about, well, Chicago...stuff. It really had no rhyme or reason except to serve as a platform for Chicagoans (and our suburban counterparts) to argue all day, everyday. Of the people I’ve connected with from the group, I’d only physically met two. One invited Halbastram & I to his birthday party on the northside; the other was interested in my friendship because we both shared an interest in being peculiar. And he knew that I operated under a “No Judgement” rule when we hung out, so he was more than welcome to be himself 100% around me.

Paul* was a tall drink of goofy-yet handsome- nerd with adorable quirks. He was a few years older than me- maybe 10- and worked as a reporter for a local Chicago news radio station (intentionally vague as fuck, as to protect his identity). I’m going to be honest: our correspondence started out of mutual attraction. But as I had just started dating Halbastram and was still gathering the feels for him, I didn’t want to mess things up by trying to pursue something with Paul. So we just settled into a comfortable e-friendship.

A month into our virtual friendship we finally made the decision to grab dinner together. After the success of that first dinner, Paul would regularly make the drive to Naperville following his radio shift (he worked overnights, so it was always pretty early in the morning) to have breakfast with me at Denny’s. Sometimes after breakfast we’d sit in my dorm while my roommate was out and discuss the Simpsons; other times he would ask me to paint his toenails (also while my roommate was out; he wasn’t exactly comfortable with her knowing his secrets). He didn’t mind driving out to see me and then ferrying me back to the city so that I could see Halbastram. He’d share gossip with me about Chicago media figures he’d met and worked with; I’d complain about how my college experience was largely unfulfilling. When I could manage it, I’d stay up and chat with him on Yahoo Instant Messenger during his shift and listen to his reports on the radio.

He basically came as close to my ideal male best friend as I would ever get.

I wish I could remember how or why exactly our friendship ended. We spent so much time talking and hanging out that it’s hard to believe that it only lasted a few months. Somewhere along the way, as I started to get more serious about Halbastram and more involved with school groups and my coursework, we just started losing touch. He stopped coming out to visit and we stopped chatting on the interwebs. I could go the conceited route and say that perhaps he wanted more out of the friendship than I was willing to give and so he backed off. Except he knew all about Halbastram and even talked about meeting him someday. He genuinely seemed okay about our relationship and gave no indication otherwise.

Last I checked (back in 2005...yikes), he still worked for the radio station. Maybe he met a girl (or guy) who lived closer and was cooler than me? Maybe I said or did something that offended him in some way? Who knows. But it’s become clear to me that our friendship, as short lived as it was, had a profound effect on me, as the general idea became the basis of the one and only novel I have ever completed.

Wherever you are, Paul, Tiny Elvis is thinking about you & those purple toes. And there’s always a spot for you in the No Judgement Zone.

*name as been changed because obviously.