Too Much of a Good Thing

Dave Cristus

Dave was a high school friend, a year older than me. We participated in Model Legislatures in Sacramento together. When I was 16, ostensibly attending a Model Legislature, but actually being made a man for the first time, he was in the hotel room next door. Dave had a number of issues, but one in particular came to a head when we were in our twenties.

I was living in Isla Vista with my girlfriend and she was impatiently awaiting my coming to bed when there came a frantic banging on the door of our apartment. Startled, wondering what could be wrong and who this could be at 1 AM, I opened the door. My gainfully unemployed friend Dave fell into my arms, sobbing. “I can’t take it any more Steve, I just can’t take it any more!”

My God, what must have happened? I invited him the rest of the way in and had him sit on the couch, my arm around him.

“Dave, what’s wrong? What happened? Can I get you a cup of tea, a beer?””

“I can’t take it any more!” he said again, “I just can’t take it!”

“What, Dave? Can’t take what?”

“Steve, I try and I try, but nothing works. I’m 23 years old and I’m still a virgin! I can’t take it any more – tell me what to do!”

Okay, so at this point I’m proud to say that I didn’t chuckle, snicker or even crack a smile. He’s banging on my door at 1 AM because he can’t get laid?! The guy was beside himself.

“You want me to tell you what to do?”

“Yes. You always have a girlfriend. I remember 7 years ago you had a girlfriend. You must know what to do, what to say.”

“Oh come on Dave. You don’t actually want me to tell you what to say?”

“Yes, I do! And don’t tell me to just be myself! I don’t want to be myself any more! Tell me what to do!”

Aw, geez….

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Looking at the rags he was wearing, the rats in his hair, and detecting his unmistakable aroma, I decided to swallow my pride, try to ignore his, and give it my best.

“Weeeelll…first – take a shower. Maybe wear some deodorant. Wash those clothes, or better still, get a new set out of the free box – those are falling apart. Wash your hair & maybe cut it. Try a shave (he never could grow anything but these little wisps on his face). Brush your teeth – every day, so you’re ready for anything. ”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it! Can I use your bathroom?”

“Um, I guess so.”

“Now tell me what to say, what to do.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Yes! Tell me!”

I’ve always hated lines. I’ve always thought that the only way to be is to be genuine to yourself. But the guy was desperate and he was my friend. So, I swallowed hard, and gave him lines, actions, scenarios that I had experienced unrehearsed.

----- a week later -----

I’m working at the sandwich shop in Isla Vista, the New York Hero House, there are a few customers in line, and in walks Dave, with the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. His smile is wrapped all the way around his ears. He’d have to unhook his lips from behind there to eat, I think! After the customers in line are served, I give him a grin. “So, you got laid.”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW??!” This he could barely get out through that big smile.

“I just guessed Dave. So tell me about it.”

He did. He cleaned up (didn’t look bad, actually), and by gum, he said just what I told him to say and did just what I said to do as well. I didn’t know whether to laugh, be embarrassed, or what. I settled for being happy for my friend. He said he’d bring his new gal in soon to meet me.

And so he did. She wasn’t bad either. He popped for an Eggplant Parmigian hero to split with his lady love (I don’t think I’d ever seen him pay for anything in his life!) and they ate together – 6 days in a row.

On the seventh day, he must have rested, for I didn’t see him that day – or the next.
The day after, he walked in, looking a little glum.

“Dave,” I said, “where’s Kim?”

“Ah, we broke up.”

“Broke up? What happened?”

“Steve, she was just using me for sex.”
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