Once upon a time in 2005, there was this guy I never dated.

We didn’t date for about a month.

It went something like this: first I sort of thought liked him but then he grew a beard and started wooing me [or so I thought] and even though facial hair makes me think itchy thoughts, I was seduced against my will [and better judgment], but then as soon as I started liking him again, he realised he’d won the game and moved on with his life. All before I had a chance to fully pick apart my own feelings on the matter, so in other words…

…drama.

And he is the most exasperating guy I never dated. His name is Brad but don’t expect to ever see it spelled that way; he much prefers “bRAD.” And when he types, his sentences look something like this: “taking caRe of Aged granDparents” or “snoRings mAke noisy sounDs” or “dRinking root beer tAstes gooD.” I suppose he thinks life’s more rad that way…

Anyway, in most situations, I would never see such a person again. Unfortunately for me, I have a dear friend who lives in his same house, so avoiding Brad is completely out of the question. The good news is, we have both successfully blocked that month out of our conscious memories, so seeing him on occasion is much less awkward than one might think. [I actually like him as a human now more than I ever did when we weren’t dating.]

The point of this post is not to dredge up old memories or make Poor Kyle feel jealous. [Making Poor Kyle feel jealous is nigh on impossible. He just doesn’t have the jealous gene. It’s kind of infuriating sometimes.] The point is…

…discussing people with multiple personality disorders. A problem from which, though not yet diagnosed, I am quite certain Brad suffers.

See, throughout the month when I wasn’t dating Brad, I learned a lot about him–all of the different hims. There would be times–wake boarding or taking photos or speaking Hungarian or just being a decent kind of fellow–when he really was rad:

That’s Rad Brad on the left, being normal and, well…rad-ish.

Other times, though, Rad Brad would be sullen and distant, deep immersed in thoughts I could only assume were morbidly over-analytical. Suddenly, the Rad Brad we all knew and admired turned into a very distressed Sad Brad:

The anguish in his eyes is as obvious as the weight I’ve gained since my wedding–there’s absolutely no hiding it.

His personality could change at a moments’ notice, for absolutely no reason I could see. One time I asked Rad Brad (who, in retrospect, was probably actually Sad Brad at that particular moment) a question about the relationship we didn’t have, and he said coldly, “You have just reminded me of all the reasons I never wanted to date girls. Thank you.” And that’s when I realised there also existed a Mad Brad:

A very mad Brad indeed.

The good news is, all of the bad Brads have started to give way to the very best Brad–Glad Brad. He tries to fight it, but I–in my infinite wisdom–can see it peeking through more frequently these days. And I’m pretty sure he’s not on drugs, which means he’s getting better all by his own sheer determination. Good job, all you Brads! It used to be that Glad Brad only appeared when his nephew was around, but perhaps the Brads’ hearts are being softened as of late. He has even commented (and with kind words! [even if he is just trying to be extra nice because he suspects I’ll be blogging about him soon {which day of reckoning has finally come}]) on some of my most recent posts here at Archives of Our Lives. For whatever the reason, I’m happy he’s becoming the best version of himself:

And that’s the raddest news of all.

Except maybe the news that he takes good pictures and started his own website (before me, dang it all). Once I had a Brad Burnham original framed and sitting on my dresser, but I tossed it long ago [not because it wasn’t lovely]. So when he becomes famous, I can tell people I threw away a million-dollar photograph. And that’s saying something. But I digress. Do swing by and check it out [after all, lending him more traffic is the least I can do for writing this post about himselves]–he sells his work, and if I ever decide to purchase one of his pieces, it would be this: the one I like to call “F
inding Faith Against a Yellow Wall.”

*Photos courtsey of bradburnhamphotography.com. Thanks to all the Brads.

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