You just got back from the bars for a post-game with the guys you lived with freshmen year. You continue drinking well into the night. While you and one of your best guys engage in a heart-to-heart, everyone else passes out. You somehow ended up in his room, until he finally spews out the ever-so-cliche “I mean, I’ve always thought you were really pretty” and maybe even throws in an “I never understood why you always hooked up with such douchebags. You’re so much better than they are” for good measure. Oh boy. Before you go any further…I really suggest you think about what’s about to happen. If you deserve better than the guys you normally go for…who do you deserve…him? Your friend is a HUGE douchebag. That’s why you’re friends. You enjoy the male perspective on all the boys you talk to and his answer is ALWAYS “sounds like he’s just trying to fuck you” and you know what…he’s always right. And you know how he knows? Because he’s the biggest, most manipulative, scheming asshole of them all. Great to have as a friend, not so smart to hook up with. I’m not going to go into the whole, “you could fall in love” thing, because A) it’s been done before in every romantic comedy ever (except in romantic comedies he falls in love too, which just doesn’t happen in life), and B) I’m not quite sure it’s true. Love is something wonderful (albeit it makes you really fucking annoying to everyone else) but it generally invokes feelings that make you more happy than sad, and if it doesn’t, you might want to consider getting out of your relationship. You’re going to fall into something, but it won’t be love.
Of course, when it’s 4 in the morning and you’ve been drinking since noon, the wise words you read on TSM are probably not on your mind, so instead of listening to my advice which is DON’T FUCKING DO IT, you’re probably going to instead…ya know, do it. You think to yourself, why the eff not? I’ve known him forever, I trust him so much, I’m really comfortable with him…might as well. At first it’s really great and fun, and you get to giggle at weird sex noises or your hair getting caught in your face or whatever else instead of awkwardly pretending it didn’t happen. You don’t feel like you need to impress him, which ironically means you’re willing to go way more wild. You even get to ask for advice on how to improve your game. It seems really awesome. But it’s not awesome. You’re wrong.
First and foremost, is how to approach the next morning. You can’t very well just avoid it, because you’re both naked in his bed. Do you proceed as a friend or as a hook-up? With a hook-up you’d maybe do the awkward morning sex thing, after you’ve either snuck into his bathroom casually to freshen up and pretend you just looked like that…or awkwardly avoid kissing because of morning breath (his, not yours. You’re perfect so that doesn’t happen to you) making you feel like somewhat of a prostitute. You decide to proceed instead as a friend. “FUUUUUUUUUCK. I can’t believe we just did that. This is the dumbest decision I’ve made all semester.” Oops. That’s offensive. You’ve already made this situation miserable and it only happened a few hours ago. Now it’s time to deal with the whole “do we tell anyone?” thing. Well, no matter your mutual decision, you’re obviously going to tell. And I hate to break it to you, but guys talk. He’s obviously going to tell too. It’s one thing being a victim of frat-chat, or even being the reason your boy was named “Jackass of the week” (similar to sister of the week…but they don’t do things like reward good behavior) but when…whatever you just did is floating around people you know shit gets awkward. When rumors get back to you, it’s shitty, but even shittier is the “well, I’ve heard things about you” accompanied by that smug grin from your mutual guy friends’ faces. WHAAAT. WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD! WHAT DID I DO? You’ll never know.
Unfortunately, I find, that once you hook up with someone, it’s almost impossible to avoid doing it again, so it becomes a thing. As this…thing you’ve got going continues you realize you’d actually rather fuck Satan than your friend. First of all…he doesn’t give you special treatment. And I guess…why would he? He’s not trying to wife you. But for some reason you thought being friends meant he’d be extra special nice to you on your sleepovers. Does that make you crazy? He certainly seems to think so and doesn’t mind telling you if you bring it up. His brain literally splits in two. You are his friend or his slam and he doesn’t know how to treat you as both. So when you’re in his bed, he treats you the same as every other girl that’s been in his bed. Shitty. (Refuses to use a condom, his needs come first, no cuddling, you might even have to walk home in the morning, etc. etc.) And when you’re not, he treats you like his friend. So that means, he doesn’t feel the need to send you flirty texts in an attempt to woo you. Because you’re still “friends,” and he’s still treating you like one 85% of the time, jealousy will become an issue. He always discussed his love life (or more realistically, his lust life) with you in the past, so he has no qualms about discussing it now. And you’re his “friend” and you don’t want to seem like a jealous clinger, so you just have to be cool about it. You have to be cool when he talks to other girls at the bar in front of you or when he asks you for advice about them. AND he doesn’t even get jealous when you try to talk about other guys. Eventually you start to realize that he is seriously mind-fucking you whether he’s trying to or not. You’d love to just write him off as an asshole, it’s just that you know the guy you LOVED spending time with is in there somewhere, but it’s somehow transformed into some sort of sick, twisted game. Your feelings are hurt by him more often than not, so you slowly back away. Of course you can’t totally rid him from your life, you know all the same people, so you’re just stuck. And what started as a great friendship ends as purely a fuckship. Go you.
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Veronica Ruckh
Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at [email protected]
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