Friends

I used to dream I was on Friends.

I was in my twenties living in a hip Chicago neighborhood when Friends was on the air. I am younger than Jennifer Aniston and older than Matthew Perry. Older people watched the show and remembered their youth. Younger people watched and dreamed this is what their lives would be like. People around the globe thought this is what is meant to be American. Meanwhile, I was living the dream, a young urban professional living around the corner from a coffee shop and across the street from Tower Records.

In my dreams (more than one, I am sad to say), I was an extra character on the set - one without lines, watching everyone chatter and carry on while I sat quietly on the couch with a large cup of tea. Did they know I was there? Did they care? I was invisible.

I'd be depressed when I'd wake up in the morning after one of these dreams, mad at myself for catching a rerun at 10:30 p.m. before I went to bed. No wonder I dreamt about being on the tv show--it was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep.

I started watching when I was young and single. When the show ended, I had gotten married, given birth three times, had a miscarriage and moved to St. Louis. I haven't watched reruns of Friends since it was originally aired. 

Now I am reading Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry about his brutal and nearly fatal battle with addiction. I've read and heard numerous stories about addiction and recovery, and this one is particularly harrowing.

In the 1990's, he was dating Julia Roberts, had a job he loved, was making a $1M a week and was not happy. He had everything except self-love. The only place he could find peace was at the bottom of a bottle vodka. He'd get the "handle" party-size, which also meant he was drinking shit vodka, not the fancy stuff.

WTF?

The scariest part of this book is my own reaction to it. 

Matthew Perry complains about being single. Could I date him?

The dude is sweet and handsome and charming and funny and an emotional train wreck. He likes art. He has a Banksy.

Do I think I could be special, different enough to save this guy? The answer should be an obvious and easy hard no. Instead, I ponder this hypothetical question instead of screaming "FTS. Run away!" 

Perry goes into lots of details about how he was the the worst partner. He dumped Julia Robert because...for no good reason. He said he was afraid of getting too close and then she would dump him. He cured his fear of being dumped by a woman he loved...by dumping her first. Which makes no sense. His own fear of abandonment caused him to abandon others. He wanted to be loved, but he pushed people away.

Later, Perry proposed to a woman while he was high. He didn't remember and couldn't figure out why she moved with her two dogs. She dumped him when he asked why she was there.

I am two-thirds of the way done with the book, and I can't put it down. Does he get sober? Does he peace and solace in the hole in his soul? 

God I hope so. It is heartbreaking that anyone could be so tormented, so haunted. I know he's not dead, but I hope he finds peace.