Kevin Bacon is an actor with a strange-looking nose. On a petite girl with stunning dark hair, this nose might be attractive. On the dude from Tremors, it’s odd. There was a book written called “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.” Actually I’m not sure if it was so much written as it was handed to Moses on top of a mountain. Basically the book is about how you can connect any actor to Kevin Bacon within six people. How many trees were killed for that I wonder. In real life we have similar Kevin Bacon like connections. We meet friends of friends. Sometimes they’re good. Sometimes they’re bad. More often than not they’re awkward.
(Matthew Lillard, this is your future. Except Kevin Bacon still gets roles and you’re living off of Dead Man’s Curve royalties)
Rarely do I make good with friends of friends. It’s weird. What do we have in common? We get free rides from the same doofus. That doesn’t mean we should talk or respect each other. I always feel uncomfortable talking with a friend of a friend. We’re both phony and have nothing more to do than ask each other about work or the last time we were forced into talking for 5 minutes. Certainly we’re not going to spend our time talking about how great our mutual friend is. Except in cases where we want to let that friend of our friend know that our mutual friend likes us better. I’ll make up lies and say that the person we have in common must like me better because I know his deepest darkest secret. My rival will retort by telling me that he IS the deep dark secret. Does it make you a better friend to be the one who has been told about the hidden homosexual relationship or to be the one in that relationship? I’d really like to know. I may be owed money.
People not named Me can be more normal in these situations. They will actually enjoy the company of friends of friends. I know, crazy right? If you’re one of these people be warned, you do not want to become a friend poacher. When Person A is friends with Person B and Person C then Person B starts talking to Person C without Person A around this is poaching. It’s a terrible social crime. I think I’ve mentioned it before. I probably posted a hilarious photograph of an elephant getting shot too. Or a delicious egg. Women are more friend poachers than men are. Women will go shopping with a friend of a friend because women hate being alone. Just because a bathroom can fit two people doesn’t mean it should. Why is it that women hate being alone? Doesn’t that mean you’ll not only get raped but also have to watch the same thing happen to your friend again? This must be what they mean when they say women are bad at math.
(No Helen. 5 times 4 does not equal 89 + 832 x 512 – 90387562)
Whenever someone introduces me to their friend, as their friend, I am weary. I feel like they have some sick fantasy where all three of us take a road trip. Maybe we can get lost in the woods Blair Witch style. Get into a fight over which of us gets to ride the tandem bike we find inside a dumpster. I feel like I’m being set up with this friend. My friend must have cancer. There’s no other reason why he’d let me meet his other friends. That’s his other separate world. That’s where he keeps the comic book geeks, the corporate schmucks, and fat girls he’s too embarrassed to be seen at the mall in his hometown with. Let me be that other part of your life. Let it be just the two of us. We can even sing the song of the same name. But please, don’t make me have a conversation with someone who knows you as something that you’re not.
(Wow it all makes sense now. Will Smith was trying to get rid of Jada for years)
The scariest thing about friends of friends is when you’re the one being introduced. You never know what those people think of you. Has your friend done a good job in describing your personality? I had a girl say to me once “Wow, you’re as funny as I was told!” Then we talked a little bit more and we grew to hate each other. Did I blow it? I don’t care. We were never meant to be friends. I think we were only introduced as confirmation that both of us existed. I’m still not positive if she was real or not. I never met her in person and she made all of the same typos online that my friend would make. But why question it? I can’t go back in time and not have cybersex with her and/or him.
What do you really think of the friends of your friends? I almost always find them stupid and wonder how the one I’ve come to like had slipped through the cracks. How someone cool around me can be so lame surrounded by the “Friday Night Crew.” If your group of friends has a nickname and you take it very seriously please Thelma and Louis yourselves off a canyon. I know there were only two of them, but you can always go off in pairs.