I was browsing Vibe.com and ran across a familiar face. It was as if I could smell his YSL cologne through my MacBook screen. I haven’t seen him in years and from the looks of things, he was doing quite well. God, I miss him.
We were never supposed to be together. He was my rebound. My revenge. My victim. He was best friends with the “ex love of my life.” We were going through a messy break-up, equipped with [me] harassing side-chicks and [him] labeling me as crazy. We have been battling for a year and I needed to do something, or someone, to hurt him. I had been an excellent girlfriend throughout the years and if I’m going to feel pain from this break-up…so should he.
I partied at least 5 nights a week. We would always see each other out and he would take care of my drinks and club accommodations because of my relationship (and his) with my ex. He was like family…to him. I made strategic advances every time we crossed paths.
- Week 1 – Flirting and compliments
- Week 2 – Tighter hugs and heavy eye contact
- Week 3 – Lipstick stained cheek kisses and back rubs with the hugs
I was ready for him.
We were at our usual Friday nightspot and I decided to make a move. I sent him a text inviting myself over after the club. He initially blew me off – claiming that I was playing games with him. It wasn’t until I showed up at his condo, half naked at 4AM, that he realized I was dead ass serious.
I enjoyed every bit of our first encounter. I was satisfied. Not because of the sex, but because I knew that my ex would hear about this soon. He wasn’t the greatest boyfriend but I never doubted his love for me. I felt that creeping with his friend would destroy a little piece of his heart. I allowed and accepted so much to go on in our relationship and NEVER did anything about it. I gave 2nd, 3rd, and 10th chances because of our history. I was a good girl…but not tonight. My ex’s friend, Malcolm, still seemed in shock at the idea of us being together…sexually. He joked about how he thought I was bullshitting him about coming over. He always knew that I was interested based off of looks that I supposedly gave him throughout the years. The type of clothing I wear around him. Not once did he mention my ex, his friend.
Malcolm and I had a semi solid foundation and friendship prior to us sexing. I needed to leave him with an experience. I wanted to be memorable…something to talk about. Men talk just as much as women – I secretly hoped that he would share our secret among his circle and somehow my ex would catch wind. I wasn’t concerned with being type cast as a hoe – I only wanted my ex to know that I wasn’t this sweet, innocent, good girl he’d grown to love over the years. I knew that there would be a chance that I would run the risk of my ex being in denial about Malcolm and I. If he ever asks, I would simply confirm.
It was only supposed to happen once. Once turned into twice, and before I knew it…we had been creeping for close to two years. Our late nights and early mornings was the highlight of my year. We still managed to hang in the same circle, cross paths in the club or at a local event. Our circle suspected that we were involved – but we kept it very casual in public. We would smile, nod, and keep it moving. Anything more would only reveal our little secret. In retrospect, I never really felt guilty about our relationship. I loved my ex…but I wasn’t madly in love with him anymore. I didn’t really feel embarrassed either. I was indifferent. I knew that sleeping creeping with his best friend was wrong but it was justified…right?
Our sexual relationship began to die out once he became too needy and demanding as if this were a real relationship. I tried my best not make us – a routine. I slowly began to pull away; he became more and more frustrated with not having his way. Ultimately, I relocated and we ended. I still think about him from time to time. Have you ever had a little secret? Have you ever dated a close friend of an ex? Is there a statute of limitations on dating a friend of an ex? Let’s discuss.