He was never my type- the ex's friend. I mean, I don't suppose I really have a "type" as much as I just tend to know fairly early on if I'm in to someone or not. And this person I was not "in to". Many times he (the Ex Formerly Known As the Sir) would ask me which of his friends I would hook up with if given the opportunity. There were the brothers... they were hot, but I didn't really know either of them enough to be genuinely attracted to either. And then there was this other one. Kind of nerdy, but only just nerdy enough. There was the one who had the absolute best personality of them all. The one that was definitely marriage material, yet was usually the only single one of the bunch. He has a lot of friends. Married. Engaged. Dating. Single. Local. Out of State. Out of town. Maybe a sober one or two thrown in there, but for the most part his friends enjoyed the same "extracurricular activities" that the Ex himself liked to partake in. They're good guys. Misguided at times. Overgrown boys much of the time, but they fake being adults very well from Monday at 8 am until Friday at 5 pm.
Saturdays they "go hard"... You don't want to catch them on a Sunday. (This in no way applies to them all... I don't know them all well enough to comment on what their weekends look like... but for the ones I do know, Sunday is not their best day). They're usually recovering from Saturday and they're firm believers in "the Hair of the Dog". So they're just as drunk and not quite as functional. It's obnoxious, really, because that would leave me to babysit.
I'm getting off track here.
The friend. He was cute. Most of his friends are. Which one was he, you ask? The nerdy one? One of the brothers? The sweet one? The out-of-state one? The ridiculously hot one? One of the obnoxiously drunk ones? The sober one? Eh. I can't tell you that. Look- I'm an open book for the most part, but I'm not evil. Conniving... vindictive... jealous... female... yes. Evil? Nah. So, I won't tell you anything else about him... except what happened next.
The Ex had not been the Ex for very long at all. I was nowhere near over him. (I believe it has been well-established that, while I'm getting better, one does not simply "get over" the love of her life in a month.... So I'm working on it. STILL.) It had been a rough weekend. I had not spoken to the Ex in a week. It had been two weeks since he asked me if I wanted him to leave me alone and I (regrettably) said that I did. I don't want to call it so much a "moment of weakness", because I don't think that's really what it was. I had just found out that my past was now another woman's present. And she was younger than me by somewhere around 5 years. And was nothing like anything that I had ever known to be his type. (even though, admittedly, she seems like she's probably a really great girl... I can't even hate her. I mean, I do... Of course I do. But I can't. But, again- to be clear, I do.) I was mad. Not even just hurt. I think I tucked the "hurt" away for a couple of weeks later. But I was angry. I had this "F him. F this. F the entire past year and a half. F staying faithful to him and crying over him and waiting for him."
He had a motto. "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else", yet always joked that it didn't apply to me. I mean, he wasn't joking, but we laughed about it. I've never been the one to get under someone to get over someone. Too emotional. Too much of a girl.
Not this time.
"What are you doing?" I asked the friend.
"Heading to my house. Why?" I know it caught him off guard because we don't speak regularly.
I told him I was coming over. Then I told him why.
He didn't protest.
Once I arrived, I sat on his couch... he reached over to hold my hand.
Awkward. I couldn't like it. 'Is he going to kiss me?' I wondered. I thought about going all Julia Roberts a la Pretty Woman and telling him that kissing was off limits. Then I remembered that I wasn't a prostitute. Whew. That was close. But still- the kissing seemed too intimate. The hand holding?? WAY too intimate. (side bar: is that backward? Should sex be more intimate than hand-holding and kissing? Am I off?) I made it clear what I was there for and at this point, I was tired and just ready to go home. But I was still mad. And he was right there. It was the ultimate "F you". The Ex would never find out. I knew that. Old "Friend Boy" wouldn't tell. I wouldn't tell. (well. I kind of am. But if you think you know who it is- you're wrong, so stop trying to figure it out. I'll throw some lies mixed in with the truth just to throw you off. You won't know the difference) I didn't care to get off. Truthfully, I didn't even care if he did. I mean- he did. Of course he did. But, still. It wouldn't have kept me up at night had he not. I didn't care about pleasing him. I didn't care for him to please me. He served one purpose and one purpose only.
Once my hand was freed and 7 and a half minutes passed, I put my clothes on and walked out the door. Shot him a random text probably two weeks later about nothing at all. We never spoke of it. I don't think it was great for him. It probably wasn't. I didn't care. Still don't.
Did it make me feel better? Nope.
Was I less mad at the Ex? Not at all.
Did I feel justified and like I had gotten a little bit of vengeance and maybe a teensy bit proud? Can't lie. That, I did.
Did I smirk a little when I told my own personal "Samantha" about it over my birthday lunch the next week? Oh I smirked a lot. That's the one time I did feel proud.
How does he feel?? Oh probably terrified. I have a blog. I'm friends with most of them on facebook. They have a group message that will probably be abuzz with trying to figure out which one of them it is... But they'll never figure it out either. Only one of them knows and I can guarantee... He'll never tell ;)
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