There comes a time in every girl’s life when she fucks up astronomically. It happens out of nowhere with nothing to provoke it. Or, in my case it happens because I think it’s funny to start shit and then act victimized when it all blows up in my face. Which is exactly what happened a few weeks ago, when I woke up hot and bothered after having a not so safe for work dream about my very platonic male friend.
I don’t believe there is a real “right” way to handle this situation. I’m not one to bottle up those kinds of feelings or to figure out the mature way to deal with them, so I enlisted the help of the smartest women I know- the TSM writing group. The collective answer I received was something alongs the lines of “don’t do it, you’ll ruin everything.” They were right. They’ve lived through this. Many had tasted the forbidden fruit and begged me to learn from their mistakes. A night with a friend isn’t worth the friendship.
So I accepted that I was probably going to fuck him. I still wasn’t sure that I even wanted to do the nasty with him, but I knew it would at least be entertaining. If it costs a friendship, well, it’s easy to make new friends. The only problem was that I was going to have to figure how to bring it up in a subtle, “I might be interested if you’re interested” kind of way. After all, I didn’t really care if it were to happen or not, but I would be damned if I was rejected by the guy that I’d put snuggly in the friend zone freshmen year.
As you might have guessed, it did not go smoothly. So, like, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up while helping him pick out a tie for his winter formal that he was taking a different girl to. But I did. And, like, maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted “I had a sex dream about you!” in front of a several innocent shoppers. But I did. What can I say? Shooters shoot.
I’m not going lie, he didn’t want to hear about it. He actually begged for me not to give him details. Sucks to suck, however, because the ball was already rolling. I couldn’t just back out. So I told him everything. I had the nerve to tell him that even in my dream, I wasn’t exactly into it at first. As I described every thrust in excruciating detail, he became visibly bored. I honestly hadn’t prepared for any outcome other than him immediately confessing his love for me. Was there a possibility that he honestly just didn’t want to fuck me? Was it true that some of your guy friends can go from seeing you as a sexual conquest to just one of the guys? Bullshit. Well not bullshit, because that is clearly what happened. But I would be damned if that was going to happen to me.
“Is it really that horrible of a thought, Chris?” I asked as if my entire self-esteem wasn’t riding on his answer.
“It’s just weird. We’re not like that.” He avoided eye contact like a coward.
“Yeah, but if it did happened,” I prodded, “like, your friends would be so impressed with you.” The trick is to make it about someone else.
“My friends have all railed train on you already so I don’t think that they’d be that impressed.”
“Because they think I’m hot.”
“Because you don’t have a gag reflex.”
“And because they think I’m hot.”
“Ok, fine, yes. They think you’re hot. Happy?” Yes, I was. Small victories, ladies.
That night, as we fell asleep watching American Dad, I decided it was now or never. I inched closer to him on the bed. I did the ever so classy rub your ass against him while pretending you’re just getting comfy. Or at least, that was my intention. I hadn’t even made full ass to dick contact before he pushed me back to my side and rolled over so his back was to me. Rejection, if you’re wondering, hits like a fucking truck.
Luckily for him, I can put that behind me. We were able to move on and salvage the friendship. Lol, JK, I cried and begged him to tell me I was pretty, thus ruining everything and didn’t even have so much as an orgasm to show for it..
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