Leo has decided that he needs a break from Los Angeles and, like most people around this age, is embarking on a quest of "who am I" by traveling to Europe for a few months. He's leaving in a few short weeks.
When he first told me of his plans, my initial reaction was anger. But after a cool off period, it was much like Teddy and Michelle in that episode "The Long Goodbye".
Watch 1:53 - 2:30
You really find out who your friends are when going through a tumultuous breakup. There comes a point where even your close friends get sick of hearing your Dashboard Confessional-esque rants. But Leo was there every step of the way like a goddamn champ. Helped me sleep. Kept my drunk ass off from making that "ex"phone call. Made me go out and socialize when I wanted to be left alone to pine for my ex.
In every group of friends, I have a theory that there is always one designated person who I call "The Organizer". This is your go-to for making plans for the group, sending out invites, generally... getting social shit done. Nothing would ever happen without these people.
I never really relied on a person like this until I became single. But I swear to you, any bachelor needs to have a friend like Leo. That one guy you rely on to bring a satisfactory amount of girls to a party with a single, mass group-text message.
Although that charming mother fucker is the worst wingman of all time, he's the Yin to my Yang. I play the sensitive teddy bear with 80% of my strictly platonic friends being female; he plays the cavalier, playboy with his list of hook up buddies. While he's shuffling off some random hook up out the door dressed only in a ratty t-shirt and Ugg boots, I'm still sawing logs, spooning a pillow and singing Bobby Darrin's ""Mr. Lonely".
He's the first person I go to when I need to vent about my plights with the fairer sex. I depend on him to provide me a view from a completely different angle. He's there to call me out on my shit. When I'm getting too vulnerable and floating inches above ground with tiny pink hearts popping like bubbles above my head, he's there casually checking his watch and yanking me by the collar... bring me back down to Earth.
When girls drive me to the point that cause that cartoon thermometer to pop above my head and explode mercury all over the place, he's there to remind me:
"You aren't an isolated case, So. It's what every male has to deal with. And people wonder how I became to cynical."
I'm going to miss his advice and anecdotes that put issues like dating into perspective.
I'm going to learn to not depend on his flirty texts to bring all the girls' milkshakes to the yard.
I'm going to learn to tackle the dating scene alone and without the insight of my best friend that I've come to rely on since Day 1 of my dating adventures.
