by Andrew D
Rob and I had the same friends. He was a blue-collar kind of guy, athletic and good-looking. At 5’9″, I looked up to him when we would speak, but when we did, I always felt intimidated by his presence.
When Rob was around, I didn’t feel like one of the boys. He didn’t treat me like one of them, either. He had me running around, doing this for him, frequently. For example, if we were at the movies, he would sit comfy while I stood in line getting him popcorn (and some for the guys, too, since he was a gentleman and asked anybody else if they wanted anything while I was out there). When we were at a sports bar, I would always be there ahead of Rob, really only to reserve a spot at the table for him. He would literally walk in, thumb over his shoulder while walking towards me, and immediately ease into my seat within a second of me getting up.
Rob didn’t have to ask me to do anything. Though we didn’t speak as buddies, he and I could sort of sense each other out. Anytime he looked at me, it was because he wanted something done. Anytime we walked, I would open the door before him, fast enough so that he didn’t have to slow down to go through it. When he was at my place, where the guys and I hung out a lot, his entrance meant my exit – to the garage to get the car wax and garden hose, so that I could wash his truck.
Rob didn’t have to ask me to do anything.
I always knew what beer to have in the fridge for Rob. I always bought his ticket when I bought mine when the guys and I would go to the movies. I had a connection with Rob, we were in sync, even though we didn’t really speak to one another. There was a guy like him and a guy like me, and between the two of us, I wasn’t the alpha male, the jock, the good-looking or confident one.
We didn’t have a name for our unique relationship. I simply did what I had wanted to do, to help Rob, not that he needed me. From the moment we met, I just sort of knew my place in the world. He awakened something in me, something I had never felt before, and likely won’t with anyone else. I didn’t want to do anything gay to the guy. It wasn’t a sexual thing. Like a duck touching water for the first time, my purpose began when I met the dude.
Serving Rob wasn’t something I went out of my way to do. It was just what I did, no different than eating or sleeping.
Something unexpected happened during my servitude to Rob, however. Something that had forced me to up my game a little. By publicly respecting Rob more than myself, people began to take notice. Sure, there were jocks – some even friends of ours – who called me names for being inferior to Rob. But others were in awe of both him and me, in different ways. I sort of started a movement by showing my appreciation for the superior male. Maybe I encouraged others to unleash their inferiority, but other guys started doing things for Rob.
I was one of the guys until Rob started hanging out with us.
I would meet the guys at a bar and see some other guy paying for Rob’s tab. At the movies, guys were buying candy and pop with their own snacks, for Rob. Some even went so far as to send him gifts – even cash! It wasn’t long before other guys were cleaning his hockey gear – one guy per piece of equipment. I once saw three men approach him within a span of ten minutes – one giving him sharpened skates, another a clean jockstrap, and another a bag of fresh white sweatsocks.
It wasn’t fair. I felt expendable, totally left out. My first thought was to talk to Rob, but because we didn’t have much of a spoken-word friendship, I didn’t know what to say. Figuring that actions speak louder than words, I started doing spontaneous things for Rob. If someone bought him socks, I bought him brand-name designer pairs. If someone brought him back a repaired hockey stock, I bought him a brand new one. If someone delivered him Tim Horton’s coffee, I delivered him a $50 Timmy’s gift card. Pleasing Rob became something of a competition. It was a war between the inferiors, with a sole superior reaping the benefits.
Our worship of Rob may have spoiled him. He became used to eating quality (expensive) food, wearing comfortable clothing, and having things done for him. Anyone who wasn’t contributing to Rob’s lifestyle became deadwood, banished from our little unofficial pack.
The Rob experience evolved once he hand-picked people for specific tasks. Rob liked things done a certain way, so one of us would do something exclusive just for him. It was a simple plan. We were minions, and Rob was our top dog. Our tasks were structured, everyone was on the same page, and by minimizing the workload of each person, Rob’s ‘cashfags‘, or whatever you would call us, became a well-oiled machine. There was always a backup slave to take care of Rob, in case of an absence. He had the natural mindset of a manager.
When you couldn’t bring him stuff, you needed to be creative and find other things to do for Rob.
But there’s only so much coffee a big dude like him can drink. Only so many clothes he can fit into his closet. Only so many times you can clean his cleats or scrub his toilet. When you couldn’t bring him stuff, you needed to be creative and find other things to do for Rob. You had to think outside the box to please our alpha male. For example, his dirty clothes left on his floor would be washed and folded the next time he saw them. His feet were already in your hands once his sock came off his giant foot.
Rob wasn’t a dick to us. He treated us from time to time, which was a bonus. For example, his big toe would sometimes brush against your lip while you rubbed his foot, and you would savor the taste of his sweat. Or, he would let you sneak in a sniff of his feet if you were lucky enough to un-lace his running shoes. At times, he even let you keep a pair of his dirty socks, which was a big deal, because for us, washing one of Rob’s socks clean was like torture. Imagine if someone handed you a $10 bill, and instructed you to rip it up and throw it away. That’s what it felt like to purge the stink off Rob’s dirty white socks.
At the end of the day, people are always going to judge us for serving Rob. That’s fine. They just don’t get it. We know our place in life, and as such, we are all genuinely happy. Listening to someone snicker while we scurry around serving someone superior to us simply doesn’t matter. Serving Rob is just a way of life. Everything else we do is for a larger purpose, a means to an end, and our end is Rob.
