Everything Has Changed

Following on from my previous post: Shit Storm …

Everything has changed. I know I sound overdramatic when I say that but seriously, everything has changed. My whole life. Everything I’ve gotten comfortable with over the last 10-15 years … It’s all changed. And now I’m having the hardest time dealing with it all.

Remember when I got drunk and accidentally made out with Bestie, and then instead of dealing with it like a grown-up, I started a fight, was a complete and utter cunt, and stormed off home crying my eyes out? Well, that night changed everything. I sent the obligatory “Sorry I was a twat-bag when I was drunk” messages to those who required it the morning after, and one person sent me a rather lengthy response. At the time, I accepted it, apologised profusely, and wallowed in self-pity, wishing to die for the entire duration of that three-day hangover. Slightly overdramatic perhaps, but I gave up drinking for a reason. The three-day hangovers that always followed simply aren’t worth it for me. Fuck that. Fuck all of it.

This hangover wasn’t just three days though. This hangover changed my life. Bestie’s male BFF of 20+ years sent me that lengthy response, telling me I needed to sit Bestie down and have a serious chat with him, and how it wasn’t fair that I’d been “leading him on“. There was a lot more obviously, but I’m sure we’ll get to it. I’ve tried to ignore it and be the better person but honestly, it’s been chipping away at me ever since.

I did sit Bestie down but I didn’t tell him what his BFF had said to me. I did ask him outright however – how did he feel about me? The answer I got wasn’t the answer I wanted, or the one I thought I was going to get.

He loves me. He always assumed one day we would get together and live happily ever after. He compares every girl to me. I’m the only girl he wants. He loves our friendship, and that’s why he hasn’t brought *this* up sooner because he didn’t want to wreck it, but of course he loves me in *that* way. He always has.

Fuck. That blows my whole “he’s gay” theory out the window. Because genuinely, I thought he might have been. He’s dated a few women in his time, but nothing serious has ever come of it, and I just assumed I was his cover-story. I was always his plus-one. Everyone always assumed we were together anyway. No one ever asked awkward questions, apart from when they asked whether or not we were secretly ‘doing it’. Easy … Or apparently not.

He’s not gay. He’s waiting for me. And apparently I was the only one who didn’t realise it. Worse than that, apparently I’ve been “leading him on” …

I need to say my rebuttal here because I can’t tell Bestie’s BFF of 20+ years. Their bromance top-trumps our 15 year unrequited love story I didn’t realise I was a part of. If I have my say, if I say out-loud the things I really want to say, I’d end up with nothing, no friends at all. To be fair, I’m not far off that now anyway. Again with the over-dramatics.

I’m pissed off though. I have never once led Bestie on. Not once. In the 15 or 16 years we have known each other, I’ve dated other men the entire time. He’s dated for some of it too. I got married in that time. I fucked a lot of men in that time. I left the country for half of it. Not once have I ever fucked Bestie. NOT FUCKING ONCE! We came close on a couple of occasions, and even then it wasn’t really that close – just drunken making out before one or both of us realised it was probably a dumb idea, laughed it off, and pretended the whole thing never happened.

But the point I’m trying to make here is that I’m a real slut when I’ve had a few drinks. Whether you like that word or not, I am. I hold my hands up to it. You’ve all read about it, let’s not beat around the bush. Even in my worst, drunken-mess states, not once have I ever thought it was a good idea to fuck Bestie.

**Point number one I’d like to make in my defence against “leading him on”.

Bestie’s BFF also brought up the subject of me getting dressed / changing in front of Bestie too, which he can fuck right off about. I don’t even get changed / dressed in front of my own mother. I don’t like getting changed in front of a boyfriend who I do fuck, so what on earth makes him think I get changed / dressed in front of Bestie who I don’t fuck? Sometimes he’ll be in the room while I change my top or trousers, but if that’s the case he turns around usually before I ask him to. He’s respectful to me. I’m also respectful to him. This whole getting changed in front of him thing genuinely doesn’t happen.

**Point number two I’d like to make in my defence against “leading him on”

Another point he made was that I ‘flashed’ Bestie, I think he was referring to my tits. Ha! Now I’m super fucking annoyed. Bestie moans regularly about how he no longer sees my tits. When I was younger (and drunk … so a lot of the time), my boobs had a habit of coming out whenever they felt the need to (which was a lot), so quite a few people have had the pleasure of checking out my ta-ta’s. But I’m a grown-up now and I don’t drink, so that kind of behaviour doesn’t happen. The only time Bestie received a cheeky tit-flash was when we were on nipple-watch – I went to the breast clinic for a mammogram because I had a ‘weird bit’. Seeing as I’ve already had two separate lots of pre-cancerous cells removed from two places on my body over the last two years, I hardly think having a friend help me on tit-watch could be considered ‘leading him on’.

**Point number three there. I’m pretty sure I’d persuade any jury.

“Leading him on”?

NOT GUILTY! 

Oh, but according to this “mate”, I get drunk and lead Bestie on. Now this guy can really fuck off. We’ve gotten drunk and made out like six times in the entire time we’ve known each other. It just so happens that we accidentally did it in front of them – Bestie’s friends – which I understand makes it a much bigger deal than it otherwise needed to be.

The thing that makes it worse, the thing that pisses me off the most, is that Bestie’s BFF and ALL of his male friends (and some female) actively encourage us ‘getting together’ every time we’re drinking around them, and even sometimes when we’re not. They’ll plan for us to sleep in the same bed if we’re at a house party, and they’ll make provocative comments. This “mate” even acknowledged he did that in the lengthy response he sent me, and then said that he’d stop doing it. It’s a bit fucking late now.

I think his friends are more responsible for this whole “leading him on” bullshit than I am if I’m being perfectly honest about this, and I’m beyond fuming that this has happened the way it has. My relationship with Bestie has never been so strained, and we’re actively avoiding seeing and talking to each other now. And over the last few weeks, my anger has gotten worse. I hate the fact that I accepted responsibility for this, and even apologised for it in my hungover state, and I wish I could say some of these things to his face, all their faces.

I have never once led my best friend on. Never. I have never allowed our relationship to go beyond that friendship barrier. It’s never happened. I love that man with every ounce of my heart and soul, and I’d give him everything I had to keep him happy and safe, but I don’t love him in the way that makes me want to take him to my bed and fuck him. I’ve never hidden that. I’ve never lied about that. Bestie’s BFF had the audacity to ask me if it had anything to do with his size because he’s quite a well-built man. Not really fat, just tall, big, wide … a big built man. Perhaps a little chunky. But no, it has absolutely fuck all to do with his size, the way he looks, anything of that sort. It never has been. I’ve dated fatter men than him for fucks sake! And uglier too.

And now everything has changed. I’ve lost my best friend of 15/16 years, or that’s how it feels. We don’t talk. We can’t talk. We haven’t spoken since really, and it’s been a month. It’s the longest we’ve ever been shitty with each other. Everything he does is starting to feel like a personal slap in my face, and I’m too scared to bring up the subject in case I come across a right cunt again, just like I did that night I got drunk. I have so many things I need to say about this, and I’m sure they’ll all come out. But believe me when I tell you I’m devastated. I don’t think this will ever be the same again.