I’m your typical twenty-year-old college girl living life just a little too fast. I’ve made all the standard mistakes that young adults tend to while living on their own for the first time. I’ve drank to the point where things get more than a bit fuzzy. I’ve dropped it “low” on one too many tabletops and have made out with a few individuals whom I probably, most definitely should NOT have. However, last Friday night I fucked up and I fucked up big time. I committed the ultimate sin of friendship and a romcom cliché, that sadly as twenty-something, doesn’t end with Katherine Heigl getting a happily-ever-after and a mediocre box office opening. I slept with my best friend. Yup. I had sex with the boy I’ve called my “bestie” since the third week of freshman year when he consoled my drunk ass over something trivial that I can’t even recall, the boy who I bitch and complain to about other boys and who will listen when I rant and rave about classes, parents, and life. I’d trust him with anything, but, that being said, he’s still not someone I ever wanted to see me naked.
Of course, this whole night began with a cocktail of vodka, boxed wine, and poor choices. Which led to us drunkenly buying fast food together after a night of revelry and walking back to his dorm to eat, much like any other post-party weekend night. I didn’t realize that things were going to go down any differently until after we had scarfed down our cheap and greasy food. As I made a move to put on my shoes and walk home he made a move on me. I was taken aback and considered slapping him dramatically across the face and storming out. But I didn’t. In fact, I was more than willing to let it happen. I had sex with my very best friend.
We didn’t really talk about it the next day. Instead I scurried out, (after another round of oddly sweet and VERY sober morning sex) with an awkward laugh and nervous side hug, along with the promise that “it wouldn’t be weird between us.” It’s said and done, but the question I keep asking myself is “now what?” I don’t think I regret what happened. At least I don’t yet. I’ve definitely made worse decisions when it comes to hookups (hi, freshman year) but I still keep asking myself “what do we do now?” Do we just go on acting like we did before? Can we really go from having sex back to platonic best friends or will something change? I’d like to believe that friendship is fluid and malleable enough to allow room to shift and move while still retaining what it originally was. I’d like to think that sex is too insignificant to change what we had for worse. Yet at the same time, I feel like something has to be different. There was something so intimate about being with someone who I know so well. It may have just been a one-night stand, assuming that it will never happen again, but he isn’t some rando I can hide my face from and ignore as I walk across campus.
He’s my partner in crime, my best friend and that’s what I love about him. If sex can ruin what we had, then maybe it wasn’t what I thought it was.