I read all of my emails that come from this website. I may not respond to them all (how do you respond to someone sending you pictures of their dog with your name tattooed on its shaved ass?), but I do read them and appreciate those who send them. I get lots of questions like, “Have you ever fought a monster made completely out of dicks?” The answer to that is, “No, but now that you’ve said it, we most likely will. Thank you for that, asshole.” But by far the most common question I get asked is, “What is David Wong like?”
Truthfully, and all comedy aside, I’m not sure how to answer that. Partly because Dave wouldn’t want me to answer it. He’s never came right out and said, “Don’t tell people what I’m really like,” but I know him, and that isn’t something he’d put out there for the world to see. And before you say, “Since he didn’t tell you not to, it’s an open doorway,” you have to understand something about him.
When we were in school, nobody got him. Most everything he said was met with a look of genuine confusion or revulsion. Most of that was crafted – he wanted that look. Someone would ask him a simple question, and he always knew the perfect response to make them regret that interaction. People would walk away from a fifteen second engagement, feeling used and a little dirty. However, whereas those people (and by “those people,” I mean “everyone else in the entire world”) had trouble grasping what Dave was all about, I could finish his sentences.
That’s the main reason we became friends. When we got together, it was us against the world, and we didn’t even have to discuss battle plans. One would say something and the other would finish it off, leaving the poor bastard who dared talk to us feeling duped and ashamed.
I do it because I think it’s funny. Dave has his own reasons. If he wants to tell you those reasons, that’s his thing. But I won’t do it for him. That’s not my place. And just to squash the glimmer of hope while it’s still sparking, he won’t ever, ever, ever, ever divulge that information.
But where we were concerned, the reasons behind our actions didn’t matter much. We were both fighting the same battle, and we were good at it. When you go through life with that kind of connection with a friend, trust becomes absolutely everything. Dave trusts that I won’t give out certain details of his life even though I have control of this website and could easily do so. Dave trusts very few people in this life. Losing that trust would destroy him.
I can tell you that he’s smart. Frighteningly smart. Like smart enough to use it as a weapon. One time, I called him a big ol’ fatgay, and he solved a math problem at me, and I started crying. I once heard Amy voice her objections to him naming their NBA Live team “The Undisclosed Child Molesters.” In response, Dave recited history dates at her until Amy gave up and left the room. He scored three times as many points by himself than with her playing on the same team.
What’s he like? Read the book. That’s pretty much him. He downplays a lot of his physical attributes (he doesn’t talk a lot about all the back flips or that time he spin kicked a dude’s chest off), but that’s him. I guess that doesn’t really answer your question, though, does it? Here, let me tell you this about Dave, and I think you’ll understand a little better where I’m coming from:
Edit by DW: John, I just removed four pages of you telling very personal details of my life, including my phone number and a lengthy psychoanalysis of why I act the way I act. You have absolutely no training in psychology, whatsoever, even though you claimed to have a bachelor’s degree in “thought doctor stuff.” You did this even after admitting in the above post that you knew I wouldn’t want you to. If you do that again, I’m taking away your administrator privileges.
And so when they cleaned up all the fish and finally got the hair chiseled off the side of the courthouse, Dave just looked at me and smiled. We didn’t have to say anything. We just knew.
Find Wong on:
Wong’s Articles at Cracked.com
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