So, that friend I was writing about, JT, he and I — jeez — he’s bad news for me. Those texts, my few responses before I told him “no, never again, stop, you have a girlfriend”… well, those texts he sent me got me going, and I sent him a picture or two in my moment of weakness.
The idiot emailed those pictures to himself… to save I guess. For a rainy day? And his girl found them. His girlfriend, whom I had become so close to, whom I cherished so much as a friend, found out that I’d betrayed her. But she only learned of my betrayal, not his. And as she blamed me, screamed at me, told me how pathetic I was, told me to fuck off, and said horrible, horrible things to me… as she did all those things that she was more than justified in doing, I never once said “don’t you realize that this is his fault? HE initiated it! HE has been texting ME for months, and this was the one, the ONLY time I responded, and I immediately felt so guilty that I told him never again!”
Nope. I kept my mouth shut and took all the blame.
And JT told me that if he was going to work it out with her, then we couldn’t be friends.
All I could say was, “I know.”
And I was really sad; really heartbroken at first. I had lost my best friend. And I had lost a phenomenal new girlfriend.
But then I realized that she was an idiot to take him back, and she proved her own weakness there, and that perhaps she was never a real friend at all if she could blame me so quickly without ever hearing me out, or ever thinking that it could have been his fault too.
So the silence raged on.
… until the texts started again.
"I can’t stop thinking about you."
"I just want to fuck you so badly."
"You’re the best I’ve ever had, I always think about you."
"I need to get this out of my system."
"Please, one last time, it’ll be our dirty little secret."
And for a while I said “no, no, no” with some sort of lingering sense of loyalty to her, and to their relationship.
Then, he got drunk. JT and I started out as drinking buddies. I know how he can drink, and I know what kind of mood it puts him in. So, on Christmas Eve, with the girlfriend out of town (and constantly checking in on him to make sure he was “being good” — if that’s not trust and a basis for a great relationship, I don’t know what is), he started texting again. And the texts turned manipulative:
"Come on, just let me come over."
"Let’s go out with a bang."
"It’ll either be you or another girl tonight. The decision is yours."
And the kicker…
"If you really cared about me, you’d let me come over."
And suddenly… it hit me. He wasn’t my friend anymore. Our friendship had ended the minute he stopped seeing me as a person in his life and started seeing me as a few holes and a great pair of tits.
So, I said “fuck it.” It had been 6 months of involuntary celibacy for me. And clearly any of the ties or bonds of friendship and loyalty were long gone in this fucked up spiderweb/love triangle. So fuck it.
And I got fucked. And like every time before it was the best sex of my life.
So I did a bad, bad thing. But then I shut the door. And hopefully, for my sake and the sake of any girl he ever dates in the future, he won’t ever come knocking again.