Another year, another of my nerdy friends is getting married. This time it was Jo, my movie buddy in university.
I used to have another movie buddy. Until I slept with him. Then we kind of just ignored each other. It was sad.
I met Jo when we took the same class in film studies. He was the only one in the class who liked my analysis of Memento. Afterwards, we started to watch good old movies and some bad ones together. From the cheesy “It’s a Wonderful Life” to the classic “12 Angry Men”. I discovered my eternal love for “Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf.” He somehow fell for “Sunset Boulevard.” That final scene though. Who could disagree with him?
But if there was a movie that we loved together, it would be “My dinner with Andre.” From the camera angle to the supreme attention to background details, it was simple yet hauntingly beautiful.
A wedding is a rather special occasion. It’s a new journey. It also encourages people to do some last crazy things before settling down. His wedding invitation to me was something like this:
“Getting married. Let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“My dinner with Andre.”
So, on a forgettable evening before his wedding, we met at a food court. On the way there, I recalled how long it had been since we last met. 4 years, or was it 5? Were we even close to each other before? Was everything with the wedding settled? Why did he even have time for dinner with me?
I wondered how he would look like. I put on about 10kg and my old jeans no longer fitted. He might look just the same. Or would the relationship add 10kg to him too? Who’s the wife? How long did he date her? She wouldn’t be there, would she?
Most importantly, who would be Andre? And who would be Wally? Did that even matter?
I arrived and he was there. He did look the same.
We both ordered duck rice with yam. I added an extra egg. He also got pad Thai.
I was Andre.
I talked about my life in Vietnam. How it had been 4 wild years with zero level of responsibilities of my own life. How I had been dedicating my time to projects without returns. How I experimented with manipulating people and their lives. Every Friday, I would be in a tangle of a million different things to play around with.
He was Wally.
He knew exactly what he wants for his life. It was hard not to see that this guy would be a married man in less than 24 hours. He knew how much he had in his saving account. He planned 2019 by the month. Most of the time he knew what’s in store for him next week, so that he could sit back and enjoy a quiet Friday movie night.
We finished dinner. We went to Vivo city, and watched the traffic. We got some drinks. Half drunk, I jokingly asked if he felt confident enough of his responsibility to himself. It was an obvious reference to “A doll’s house,” another of our beloved movies. He didn’t reply.
He had enough for the night. We parted way.
I met him the day after at his wedding. I saw his bride. I wished the couple best of luck. I didn’t see anyone else I knew.
In the end, I gave him a big hug, and left quietly.
I didn’t leave him. I let him go.