There's this dude in a wheelchair in the apartment complex next to mine whom I always greet with an elaborate bro-shake actually bordering on the masculine I ain't a fag but I like strong warm male contact clasp/hug hybrid greetings that were first popularized by the black sports and rap heroes of my youth in the early 1990s.
But then I realize there are two things that make me less than a good friend to this guy.
First, I would never hang out with him outside of our normal neighborly context since he's well, disabled, and that would be all awkward and embarrassing.
And second, I sort of deeply resent the fact that even though he has this massive fucking social and physical albatross he has to contend with, he somehow manages to seem cheerier and more content than I.
For very similar reasons, I realize that my relationship with my longtime family maid is perhaps a little more dysfunctional than I like to think.