Many years ago, before complexities took over our lives, I was "best friends" with my younger son, Brad. When Brad turned 18, he was able to decide for himself where and who he wanted to live with and since he no longer represented child support to his mother, He was no longer obliged to stay with her.
So in 1991, after I bought and drove his new car back to Chicago for his HS graduation, he arrived at my front door, here in Phoenix with a suitcase and a kid named Eric and a smile. Eric flew home and Brad became my new roommate. My rules were pretty easy, go to school, I'll pay for it and give up cigarettes or no deal! That was his last cigarette and he and I quickly became best friends (BFFs) We did literally everything together including getting sick. One night I made broccoli and chicken for dinner and about 4 AM, I awoke starting feel pretty funny (sick). I quickly ran from the bed to the bathroom to hurl, only to hear Brad heaving in the other bathroom at the same time. Chicken must have been spoiled. Who knew?
We had this unmentioned thing, that whenever we went anywhere in public, we'd try to embarrass each other. Example: Once in a crowded elevator in a medical building, Brad looks at me and asks if my oozing and itching will cease with the medication? I was a little embarrassed but not so much I couldn't burst out laughing. It was my turn next and a couple of weeks had gone by and we were in a shopping mall, just going through the women's cosmetic where everything bottlenecks. At a critical point, I grab Brad's arm and say, "You say you're not gay, but all of your friends are gay and you go to gay bars!" I could actually feel the heat coming off of Brad, as his temperature rose. He bolted from the store and never stopped running until he was at the car. I guess I won that one.
Another time we were in Vegas and eating dinner in one of the nicer restaurants. I mention to him that one of his sideburns is about an inch longer than the other. Naturally, he doesn't believe me. He goes to the bathroom to check and as he leaves, the cocktail waitress stops by and we order. I give her a couple of dollars to mention to Brad, that one of his sideburns is waaay longer. She agrees and takes the money. Just then, 2 young girls about his age were at the table next door and also volunteered to join in on the joke. It was perfect! Brad comes back from the restroom and agrees that one side burn IS a little longer when 3 total strangers stop, tap him on the shoulder and tell him about the side burn. Another prank well done... Brad and I retained that type of relationship until things suddenly changed, as they always do...