Tonight as I was leaving work, around 10PM, there was a man parked near me, leaning against his car with his face in his hands and his head hung low.
He was obviously crying, and he had the look of a man who’s simply had too much, and something had finally pushed him to the very edge if not over it, and I just sat there in my car staring at him.
He didn’t notice me walk by, get in my car and close the door. He was in his own world, just completely gone, man,
I started my car, shifted into D and crept forward, still watching him. I saw a heavy sigh turn into a muffled stutter.
And I drove off. I considered circling back around and shouting an “Are you alright?” out of the passenger side window, but clearly he wasn’t alright, and what if he tries to get in my car? But ultimately I decided to leave it alone. Chickened out, basically. The awkwardness of offering assistance to another man, the fear that he’ll ask a favor, when all you want to do is let him know that you know he’s in pain and maybe that in itself will offer some kind of consolation that’ll keep him from blowing his head off but probably not, and hey, what if me intervening would’ve been the one thing that talked him out of taking his own life, and we could’ve become buds, maybe he has a boat we go fishing on, maybe he likes metal and we can go to shows together and get lit AF as the kids say(probably not anymore now that 40 year-olds are aware of it), and all that stuff that guy friends do.
I don’t have any guy friends anymore. My friends are all girls. Women think I’m mesmerizing and all this, so, you know, I ate all of that up to the point that I never stopped to think I’d lost every guy friend I’d ever had. I was too busy getting my ego stroked to notice. I had some work bros that I enjoyed seeing every day, but they’re all gone.
What if, you know, me and this guy were destined to become best friends, and instead I drove off and he killed himself?
Eh, whatever. Rolls down windows, cranks up Power Trip, takes off down the highway.