He moved in and out of my life like the sun coming and going each day. He was a brief player on my stage. A random hiccup in the cosmic car crash of life.

He was listless, impatient and often overbearing. He seemed to be pressing me for information at any given moment and I wasn't completely certain that I could trust him.

I liked him enough. I could tolerate his moods. He was a man very much in love with vague aloofness. It was his constant state of being.

When he pushed me too far I told him off. He would look at me, unimpressed. I knew, however that I had his new-found respect. He enjoyed it when I called him a self-centered, egotistical rat bastard.

We were competition. Constantly we butted our heads, trying to scratch out who was the better "man." Neither of us came out much farther ahead than the other, but the dueling was fun.

Tree said the only reason why we butted heads so much was because we wanted to fuck each other. Sexual tension, she said. I decided to deny it. Yes, he was attractive. Yes, at one point I had a crush on him. But that was before I knew him.

His cocky attitude drove me away. Yet I still persevered to be his friend. Suddenly he opened up to me. Still his self, ego and all, he started telling me things about his past.

I'd known him as tight-lipped to everyone except Megan. It was a package deal with them. If you told something to him she would know about it, and vice-versa.

For some reason he told me about his girl back home. One of those unrequited love things. He told me about his grandfather and how his death had affected him deeply. He would share with me, little precious gems. He let me get close enough to burn my hand, enough rope to hang myself with.

Where our relationship will land us will be a surprise to me no matter what. I can never tell how much progress I've made with him. Two steps forward and all that jazz. A brief player on my stage.