Before Landon was rudely dismissing the social value of a mutual friend’s relative, he was in the midst of an even greater failure; a mightier testament to his lack of conscientiousness and regard towards his fellows than any party faux pas could have encapsulated – he was late for picking me up for said party.

To be exact, 32 minutes late.

Now. I am fully cognizant of and respectful towards those instances in which one cannot control their calendar; in which forces beyond one’s control diverts one from their intended path, and forces them to inconvenience those around them; in which, despite the uncontrollable delay in which they find themselves, they are likely communicating their apologies and regrets all the while to alleviate ill will on the part of those expecting their imminent arrival.

Then there’s Landon. Who, as he pulled up in a black Chevy Impala better suited for drug deals than carpooling (sincerely, this thing has absurdly tinted windows and a giant, bright red interior light), expressed no regret. Who communicated nothing about his late arrival. Who, if he was wearing sunglasses at the time, would have likely taken them off slowly and spit casually in the direction of my feet.

Landon. I understand your masculine pride prohibits you from apologizing. Either way, I expected better. Although at this point, I’m not sure why I do.

This evening, Landon, myself and our aforementioned friend Danielle (Hereafter referred to as “Blonde” Danielle or “Dani B”) went to the celebration of our friend’s daughter’s first birthday.

Yes, our other friend Danielle (Hereafter referred to as Sassy Danielle or “Sassy D”) was throwing a lavish gala, an extravagant fete, an unrivaled party to recognize her daughter Cassidy’s first year on this planet. A time set aside to celebrate the familial and amicable ties that hold our fragile bond of society together, and enable us to find love and meaning in an otherwise cold, lonely, and distant world.

From stage right enters Landon.

Going into the evening, I will not pretend as though I would have likened Landon’s social skills to anything better than a toddler with ADHD or a sexually frustrated gorilla. But, with Dani B running late and Sassy D otherwise occupied, he attempted to outdo himself.

Namely, we were having a lovely conversation with another guest (as we courageously hid from Sassy D’s family in the kitchen). During said conversation, another friend, Nick, had just arrived and walked into the kitchen. As this happened, Landon abruptly cut off conversation with this other guest, looked up at the new arrival, and declared loudly to the room at large in an offensive yet sonorous voice “Thank God”. Shockingly, this upset the guest.

I will not assume that Landon meant this to be as rude as that sounded. Nor will I assume that he is an inherently mean spirited or callously hurtful individual. I WILL, however, continue to liken his social grace to that of a depraved chimpanzee.

Once more, do better.