And, in my circle of friends, that guy is.....me. Obviously.
But, if it wasn't me, it'd be Brian Xavier Manni.
Most of you are unfamiliar with 'Frank', as I call him, so I'd like to briefly tell his story. Frank was an all-State wide receiver from a small town outside Harrisburg. Naturally athletic, possessing great hand/eye coordination, and blessed with uncommon speed. Frank gets scholarship to small Division 1 school, Frank blows out his knee for a second time, Frank gets caught up in a school scandal, Frank gets booted from said small Division 1 school, and Frank ends up transferring to a party school, Penn State University. Frank meets another dipshit (yours truly), discovers a love for beer, Chinese food, and betting on sports. During college, Frank also puts on about 30 lbs. Frank barely graduates, skips the graduation, takes a dead-end job in Philly. Frank eventually gets married to a woman who he doesn't deserve, has a child (he's awesome and his middle name is 'Franco'), discovers a love for Tito's vodka, and becomes an insurance salesman, Frank eventually eats himself further out of shape and drifts into obscurity, never to be seen or heard again by anyone that matters. End of Frank's story.
Frank's general story is all too familiar. We all know the guy destined for stardom, born with the Hollywood looks, who seems like he has the world by the balls. And, then life happens....and he ends up just getting kicked in the balls. The proverbial fall from grace. It happens; it's familiar. But, as someone who has had a front row seat to this phenomenon; as someone who has felt the collateral damage of this man's life; as someone who has been his wing-man for the last 16 years....I can assure you that Frank's life story (or stories) has been anything but familiar.
*****There was the first time Frank and I golfed together. Frank represented himself to be a scratch-golfer, or to those not familiar with the term, Frank represented himself to be just short of qualifying for the PGA Tour. Frank's very first tee shot duck-hooked directly left, caused numerous bystanders to duck in fear, hit the side of a maintenance garage shed, and made a sound that approached something like ten shotguns fired at point-blank range. Frank didn't break a score of 100 that day.
*****There was also the time when Frank represented himself as the President of Tau Kappa Epsilon. A fellow TKE member from West Virginia came to our fraternity house and 'challenged' Frank. In fraternity-lingo, to 'challenge' someone is to request them to prove that they are indeed a fellow brother - usually by a handshake and a password - and then embrace in brotherhood. Frank, who could barely tell you what the T in TKE stood for and surely wasn't familiar with the frat word of 'challenge', thought that the individual was challenging him to a fight. So, naturally, Frank obliged, chased the kid from our room, threw a beer can at his dome, chased him down the steps, and forced him from the premises. All the kid wanted was a hug.
*****There was the time that Frank took an entire semester's worth of classes for me to square a gambling debt he owed me. Frank, never to be confused with an astronaut (ie: Frank isn't real smart) had a surprisingly uncanny ability to do well in ECON classes at PSU. As a result, rather than pay me the $400 he owed me, I simply said, "Hey, Frank, take this ECON 301 class for me and we're even." He immediately agreed. Without fail, Frank always identified himself and answered to "Andrew Smalley" and developed a strong rapport with a teacher that had no idea who he really was. Frank not only aced the class, but he also went to numerous one-on-one, tutoring sessions with the teacher on weekends.
In all honesty, these stories don't really do him justice. There are so many more that my friends and I know and tell with great regularity. And, they're indicative of a fun dude.
But, Frank is more than just a story or funny anecdote to me. When I was growing up, my mother used to speak on the phone to Jan Eberle for *hours*. I was amazed at it, still am. How could two people possibly talk about nothing for that damn long? But, after becoming best friends with Frank, I get it. Frank and I have seemingly been talking about nothing for 16 years. If one of us is bored, we call the other. If one of us thought of something funny, we call the other. If one of us wants to feel good about themselves at the expense of the other, we call the other. Schadenfreude is real in our relationship; we laugh at each others misery. Frank is the easiest guy to get along with that I've ever met. Frank is the funniest guy I've ever met. Frank is the most outgoing, personable, witty, social, friendly guy I've ever met. I've never met a guy that I like hanging out with more than Frank.
Also, underneath the wit and the charm, Frank is a man of persistent loyalty. Right or wrong - often the latter - Frank has had my back and been by my side for nearly two decades. We have an uncommon bond, in my eyes. I can only remember a couple times that we've actually been mad at each other; all of them, naturally, my fault. Our time is spent laughing, talking, and living. I've never been in a bad mood when I know I'm about to see Frank. It's always a joy; it's always an 'event'.
People don't laugh enough these days, in my opinion. People should be forced to know Frank. Frank would make people laugh. Frank's been making me laugh for 16 years.
Groomsman, Brian Xavier Manni. Where 'Xavier' is made up, as Frank is Italian, and doesn't have a middle name. Anyways. I can't wait to see what he has in store for me this weekend. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Kami, good buddy. You're the best. And, the worst.
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