Best Friends

She was his best friend. That was the best he could do at the moment, but he was playing the long game. Nobody knew her as well as he did. Hours and hours he had spent listening to her pour her heart out about the hundreds of guys who had pumped and dumped her. Surely, he would get his turn soon. He wasn’t like all those jerks, though. He understood her. Time would reveal to her that he was the one, so until that time he was more than happy to serve as not only her best friend, but as the emotional tampon that she needed.

It was two in the morning and his phone was ringing. Her name flashed up on the screen. Immediately, he went into best friend mode. Dried sleep dug into the corners of his eyes. He wiped it away with his finger and picked up his phone. Hello? he said.
Ok, where are you? he said.
OUTSIDE YOUR PLACE, she said and he got up to go to the front door to let her in. He grabbed the best friend rescue bag he had prepared for these occasions. It contained a box of tissues, some DVDs of chick flicks, a photo album of her to show her how great she was and a sketch he had done of her. He was the best friend she could ever hope for. He opened the door and she fell into his arms crying. He held her respectfully, making sure his hands were not in places that could be misinterpreted as sexual. In fact, he was proud that he had never actually had sexual thoughts about her. That’s how good a friend he was.

They sat on the couch and words flowed out of her like sewerage from a busted pipe. He listened intently and she cried because that guy was an arsehole for cheating. She told him she was through with guys because they were all motherfuckers. He knew she did not include him in her sweeping generalization. Guys really were shit. He was different though and he wondered how long it would take her to notice that. What would happen if he made his move now? I would be absolutely heartbroken if you fell in love with me. I don’t ever want to lose what we have, she said.
Oh, yeah. Right. I would be good to you though, he said.
I don’t see you like that. It’d be like kissing a girl, she said.
So you think I’m a girl?
No, that came out wrong. It’d be like kissing a brother.
Oh, he said with such disappointment he was worried she would pick up on it. She was too absorbed in what was going on with her to notice though. Seeing this, a sense of relief ran through him as he tried to think of real life examples of brothers and sisters falling in love. Sometimes hope was nothing more than a finger nail digging into the side of a cliff. The problem was, however, that his finger nails were nearly all ripped out. Did you want to stay? he said. People might think we’ know, she said.
Oh yeah. I’d tell everyone that we weren’t, but I totally get it, he said. She got up and hugged him. You’re the best friend in the world, she said and left. He stood in the door way with half an erection and a fully broken heart. It was not the first time and would not be the last.

He hadn’t heard from her three days after she’d come over to his place at two in the morning so he called her. I’m with Clive, she said.
Who’s that?
A guy I’m seeing.
What does that mean?
Well it’s pretty soon.
This feels kind of like slut shaming. I thought we were best friends.
We are.
Ok, then. Bye, she said and hung up. He kept the phone to his ear for a while before it registered in his mind that the phone conversation was over. He remembered she had one of his plates he had given her with leftovers on it after she had broken up with some other guy before the last guy. He called her again. I’m on a date, she said.
I want my plate back.
My plate. The one you took with leftovers on it because you’re too lazy to cook for yourself.
Oh my god. I don’t have your fucking plate and how dare you!
I want the goddamn plate. You can bring it to me tomorrow or I will go to yours and get it.
I don’t like your tone.
And I don’t like you. I’d fuck you though. I’d fuck the shit out of you.
Excuse me?
I’d bend you over a table and pull your hair. I’ve wanted to do that for a while except I’ve been sitting here listening to your bullshit.
No one forced you to.
I thought we were best friends.
Well, we were. I don’t need this bullshit.
My plate.
I don’t have it, she said and hung up. He tried redialing her but it went straight to message bank. They were no longer best friends. He felt relieved and saddened at the same time. Relieved that he would no longer have to listen to her shit, but saddened because he’d wasted so much time pining over some two bit whore who seemed willing to fuck anyone but him. He grabbed the best friend rescue bag, emptied out its contents and put the bag in the bin. He looked at all the photos of her that he had collected over the months he had known her. They were all selfies that she had posted to social media. He decided to throw them out, but before he did that there was one more thing he had to do. He took his favorite photo from the album, ripped a few tissues out of the box and proceeded to get himself to a state where he could at least say he had jizzed in her face.

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