My Best Friend is a Pedophile. And I’m happy to say that he is now in Jail.

And I’m still trying to figure out how to process this.

I usually start every post with a photo. Something that speaks to the content of what I write.

Given that my writing is usually about topics that are light-hearted and positive, this is an incredibly difficult one.

The photo I choose is always meant to compliment my words, be eye-catching, and compel my fellow readers to want to know more.

But after writing the title, I realize that there is no photo that can possibly convey the words for this one. I also can’t describe how I’m feeling myself. But I’ll try.

The anger.

The breach of trust.

The lies.

The deceit.

The injustice.

The outrage.

The disappointment.

The betrayal.

The inconceivability about the whole thing.

As fate would have it, I just published a piece this week called “It’s not me, it’s You”.

The above piece talks about who it is that we write for and about my journey that led to the realization that I’m not writing for me, I’m writing for you.

So the irony is not lost on me that literally days later, I find myself writing on this horrible topic, realizing that I’m contradicting myself on that article because this one isn’t about you, it’s about me.

It’s a cathartic exercise that I need to get externalised before I internalise it too much and it consumes me. Like a recently discovered ‘External Root Resorption’ going on in my front tooth, it would eat me from the inside out (another dark piece likely there in the future for you to look forward to!)

Growing up in Sydney Australia, we had it all. The beaches, the sun, the fun and the friends. I feel privileged to have been brought up in such a safe, loving and warm environment extended to me by friends and family.

I didn’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I had were close, and I treasured them dearly.

Some of them continue to be friends to this day. At 54 years old, my oldest ‘bestie’ (they are all besties to me!) has been so for 52 years!

‘Q’

But one of my other besties (Let’s call him ‘Q’) and I seemed to drift after high school. It didn’t help that I left Australia at 22 and moved to Japan. We sporadically kept in contact but it wasn’t consistent. He too left the country later too to sow his oats or whatever, but it always seemed to be me that was the one initiating any contact.

8 years later from my Australian departure, I got married. By this time, Q and I had very little contact. Nothing happened that was enough to break a friendship like the one we had, but life simply got in the way. ‘Real friends don’t always need to communicate right?’ That’s what I thought anyway.

Anyone who has created a wedding list knows the challenges. The ‘who’s who’ of everything becomes a thought, focus and project you never would have dreamed of.

The invitations of the who is coming and who is not, to table settings and seatings. Every decision has the potential to impact your relationship either directly or indirectly.

Damn if you do, damn if you don’t!

Growing up, Q was destined to be my Best Man. It was a given during those teenage years but by the time reality struck and it was time to choose, it wasn’t even a consideration.

At that point in my life, things had changed. We were different people and I had a new Q to fill that role, which was ‘L’.

L filled that role perfectly and to this day is still ‘my main man’.

Fast Forward 20 years and the weirdest thing happened. Q came back, asked why he wasn’t the best man, and without even listening to my answer, cancelled me.

That compelled me to write the below ‘Choosing your best man’.

That story was about Q.

Growing up, Q was awesome. He was the ‘Joey’ of the bunch. Australian-Italian, loyal, loving, and always there for you.

But as I learned now I look back on things, anything that involved Q, usually meant some kind of drama of some sort. Not overly dramatic, but he was almost like a silent Drama Queen (and thus the ‘Q’).

So he cancelled me 2 years ago. Wrote some pretty scathing words to me before doing his dramatic mic-drop and walking out of my life. Worst still, he turned the mic off so as to not give me a voice as he metaphorically walked out of my life…

Anyone receiving such a jarring and abrupt exit from a long-time best friend should be given the decency to say a few words before the curtain closed. Even if it’s to scream some obscenities back in anger, spite or in begging for forgiveness. That’s the unwritten rule in mic-dropping! You can drop the mic, but you have to leave it on.

Alas, it was not to be.

So I grieved the loss of our friendship for 2 years. It left me a bit emotionally tender and bruised, but I got through it and moved on.

The Message That I’ll Never Forget

Then out of the blue, his wife sends me a message. I didn’t really know her and didn’t have anything in common outside of Q.

She asked me if she knew that they were separated and that he was in jail.

Wait, what now!??

I thought it was a bot. A joke or a scam so questioned ‘the bot’.

No. It was real and we spent the new few minutes chatting back and forth. She shared with me what happened and I’m going to spare you the details but it’s pretty disturbing, to say the least.

The reason he’s in jail is that he molested his daughter's bestie. A young boy her age (14).

My bestie of 14, turned into a predator and a child molester of someone now that age.

The impact it’s had on his family has been pure destruction. But the impact it must have had on that 14-year-old boy victim and his family would be pure hell.

I can’t fathom it. I can’t get my head around it.

Apparently, he has tried to take his own life a couple of times. I can imagine that given he must be living with extreme guilt. I know what he is like and he’s a caring, loving guy.

But something has gone wrong. Very wrong, and I have no idea what is it.

I think of my 12-year-old son and I think about how sad it is that he’ll never meet Q who was important in my life when I was his age. We used to talk about how our kids will play together like we did. But that will never be. He’ll never get near my son again.

And I think about the family photos we have in the home. Of our wedding photos on the mantle piece with my wife and I, my groomsman and ‘L’ there with us all smiling together.

I don’t believe in destiny and I don’t believe things happen for a reason. But I’m thankful that I don’t have to remove any photos from our home, and that I don’t have to explain to my son who that person is standing by my side as my best man at my wedding.

Because I’m proud to say it was L and not Q.

Long and winded, dark and sad, I don’t think there is any silver lining to this story despite my preference for always looking for one.

Thank you my fellow Mediumians for reading and listening. Thank you for allowing me to rant and please, let’s together watch and protect our children.

Because unfortunately, there is a lot more than one Q out there, but thankfully, there are more Ls.

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