His Other Dude?

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I’ve been spending some time with a friend of My late partner, Bob. A guy I always playfully referred to as Bob’s “other boyfriend.” For the record, Bob didn’t find this amusing, which is all the incentive I needed.

He took Bob’s illness and subsequent death pretty hard. They went to ball games together. Both worked at Walmart. Bob even got season tickets for the two of them. Just them. Not me. The only way I even knew the guy is that he doesn’t drive, and Bob was often so busy that I’d pitch in to provide transportation. Pick him up. Take him home. It didn’t bother me to help them spend time together.

Bob fell ill a few games prior to the end of the baseball season, and the Indians had a chance of going all the way this year, as Bob had suspected. So the dude, Bob’s other dude, had lost his baseball buddy, and didn’t really have the resources to go to the remaining games on his own. A couple times I gave him the tickets and someone else took him. But he and Bob were connected, and that connection was part of why he wanted to go.

What that connection was, specifically, I don’t really know. I do know that Bob had a way of being good to people, and taking them as-is. Did I mention that the dude is autistic? I probably mentioned it more than Bob. Whatever the dude was, they were friends.

Beyond the humor of suggesting that they were more than friends, it really was fine with me whatever their relationship was. I loved Bob, and wanted him to have that which made him happy. Not that I really saw him as one who would, um, double dip? I’m reluctant to even call it cheating. Its not cheating if the rules allow it.

Did Bob and the dude have something more? I never asked. Asked the dude, I mean. But I’m there for him. When Bob was in the hospital and then nursing home, the dude could call me any time for updates. I encouraged him to visit. When I found out that he was visiting, but was afraid to wake Bob up, I arranged for a long visit, picked him up, and woke Bob up so he could spend some actual time with the dude. Even took pictures.

I’m not using his name in case I’m way off base on all this. I don’t want the dude to be embarrassed. But I do appreciate his connection to Bob and sympathize with his loss. Our loss. I want him to be okay. I’m no substitute for Bob. I know that. What we have in common, the dude and I, is loss. A huge loss, indeed.

There’s a part of me that hopes there was something more. I kinda hope the dude rocked Bob’s world. But my mind works that way. Whatever it was, for real, I can picture Bob being perturbed at my even talking about this. Either way, I appreciate the dude for caring about Bob. Plus, I never did like going to ball games.


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