Ben's Nine Tails

Ben (or 'him', as some of you know him) once told me that the secret to happiness is to find a new group of people to hang around with who are more respectable.
"A clique?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "That's a word Anh Tu would use and Harry would later recycle."
"Then what would you call them?"
"Real people."

A while later, somewhere in Europe, I had another exchange with him.
"Does this mean you're 'cool' now?" I asked.
"No. It just means I'm happier."
My face showed the disappointment of someone who booked Neil Finn for a charity auction but got Tim instead.
"Well, I have to go now," said Ben. "See you round."
"Uh huh," I mouthed.
If it weren't for our two subsequent encounters, that would have been the last time I saw him.

Ben soon found a love to accompany his life and married her. They had two little Bens and were pretty happy with each other. His real people friends wound up permanently paired-off, too, and would often meet him on Friday nights for dinner and Scrabble™. Once he even pissed in the bushes during a casual game of golf with a real person. He had to go really bad, you see.

Every morning for the rest of his life he would stand out on his front veranda and say "This is the life!". On certain mornings he would even begin to air-kiss passers-by.

Eventually his heart stopped and he with it. He was a healthy 86 when it happened. His wife outlived him by four months. At this stage, the two little Bens were adults, and were already pairing-off in preparation for the next generation in Ben's cycle. They mourned for a while.

And what of me? Well, I doubt I know the answer to that. Still, for the sake of this in particular, I'll just say that I became a hermit when the posse broke down. Boo hoo.