In Praise of Brotherhood.

If there is one thing about guys that women don’t understand, it’s the sense of camaraderie that guys get when they’ve been friends for a long time.  We never really know when that magical moment passes when someone goes from being a friend to a brother, but there are a few key things that move you towards that invisible barrier.

One of the first things is coming through a situation involving a rough break up with a girl.  There is nothing so devastating in the world to a guy as getting into any one of the heartbreaking scenarios involving a girl.  Pick one, from the simple breakup to anyone of the nearly infinitesimal permutations that involve you or a friend getting dumped by a girl that you/they loved for some loser who you already know is going to treat her poorly.  Add in the venting about how we don’t understand, or whining to one another about the chick we wish we could get into a relationship with (I’m famous for this), and that about sums it up.  The friend listens, nods, and goes on with his life, forgetting about it ten minutes after you’ve told them.  The brother listens, nods, buys you a drink, and then calls you up the next day saying they just found tickets to the baseball game, and they want you to go.  In the entire day at the park, they never mention the girl.  And when you mention them, they let you know they hear you, but then they go right on to asking why the manager didn’t start the regular right fielder today.  This is inexplicable.

Another big situation is taking care of the brothers interests when they can’t themselves, for whatever reason.  With one set of my friends, it has to do with making sure they don’t do something they’ll regret when they’re trashed.  With all my friends, it’s about watching them very, very closely, to make sure that they don’t do something monumentally stupid when they get into a funk or stuff just sucks for them.  Hanging with a brother when stuff is like that for them and helping them through it is what it’s all about.  A friend avoids you when you’re down.  A brother comes and sits in the dust with you, watching to make sure no one kicks you when you’re down.

Another huge thing is while the friend has places they don’t go with you, the brother will call you on it if you’re being stupid, or saying something that doesn’t make sense, or if you’re in danger of making a mistake.  Friends don’t take the same interest in your life to keep you out of trouble.  Simple enough, but there are plenty of friends I have who don’t care enough or know enough to know when to step in and say something to me.  All the brothers do, and they don’t spare me.  I’ve learned to listen to them, they know more about me than I do.

The most basic thing is just time.  While there are exceptions to this rule, the longer you’ve been through the stuff with a friend, the more likely it is he’s a bro.  Life happens, and sticking with someone when life happens is what it’s all about.

I’ve been lucky in my life, I’ve got probably a couple of handfuls of people I’d consider brothers who are as different as any people could be, but they know me, and they know how to handle me, talk to me, they know my issues.  And I know theirs.  And if anyone really hurt them, I’d take a bat to the offender, and they all know it.  Loyalty is what it’s all about.  I’m not kidding.  I’m in the place now where I’m not interested in revenge for myself, but if you touch a brother, you better believe I’ll bring it to you in a second.

It’s funny the dualism in me with the brothers I have too.  I’ll tell you what I mean.

Today, I sat in church with a brother on each side, and as I sat there, in our Easter service, I thought it was appropriate–I’d ride to gate of Hell with either of these guys, and I’m not kidding.  I’ve got lots of guys like that.  I’m lucky.  I’ve known some tremendous men, and have been honored to call them my friends.  It’s an honor to grow with them, and experience life with them. I appreciate this more now that I don’t see some of them as much.  If you’re reading this, and you’re a bro, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  On the flip side of the coin from an Easter service, I got an IM from my main man AMDiscJockey the other night, talking about a trip to Vegas.  Nowhere is being with brothers more important than being in Vegas.  If you want to find out why, you need to read this.  If you’re faint of heart, the articles not for you.  But it is true.  The places where you stand up with a friend are as varied as when they’re in a spiritual crisis, or they’re passed out in a bar and you have to carry them to you car and get them home.  But the fact remains the same…you know your brothers, and you look out for them, 24/7/365.

I’m very lucky, I’ve got lots of bros.  I’m not sure why that is, exactly, but I’m not about to complain.  I’d try to go into it further to explain it to you ladies who might not be picking up what I’m laying it down, but a million words wouldn’t help if you didn’t already know what I was talking about.  I don’t pretend to know anything about women, and it’s quite possible that there is something to be said for sisterhood.  But I’m not the guy to say it, if there is such a thing.

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