Saturday, 19 December 2009

7."Make friends, make friends....never never break friends?!"

I knew him first.

Not an excuse. Just trying to help you understand.

I had him first too.

 You know what I mean, don't act shocked. It's not so black and white. I never got jealous of my ex-boyfriends previous girlfriends because that was before me. And when I had him, Kendall didn't, wasn't. They weren't. I kept it a secret. Not ashamed. Okay slightly, I slept with my Best friend. Not just once that time either.

I had sex with my best friend 3 times. I could call him that because he was there as much as Kendall had ever been, sometimes more. So yes, I had sex with my best friend three times. He was my first and he was my current and I know he's meant to be my last.

Three times we coupled like animals, mad for each other. We didn’t make love, we hadn’t had sex. We’d just done it. Done the deed three times, and each time it changed our lives. Ruined his. Ruined mine.

But it had always been a natural reaction. We had always spontaneously sprung together, and after, just as spontaneously sprung apart. Simultaneously moved away from each other like the distance meant we hadn’t been that stupid. Done something stupid. Like we hadn’t been so stupid to do it the first time, and then that second time and finally the third. Would have kept doing stupid things together if I hadn’t taken action and walked away. I'd had to walk away to keep the last bit of dignity that I had left. Lose him in that manner because it was easiest to walk away, make it my choice, then stay. Play pretend for a little while longer that things between us hadn’t changed again. Couldn’t stay, wouldn’t stay, when I knew that sooner or later he’d realise how much things had changed and then I’d lose him all over again anyway. So I pushed all of that into a vault, and Taye, Kendall and I operated in the friendship box. Untill everything changed all over again, and I learned they were dating. If two wrongs won't make a right, try a third?

It started with touches.

Before either of us knew what touches could do. Little gestures, like him stroking the inside of my wrist when I cried, or pulling on my ear lobe when I hadn’t got a joke he’d meant for me to laugh at. Comforting gestures. Mum never got why I pulled at my ear every time I laughed after that. But it was my way of saying its ok, I get the joke now. We gave each other little touches. Like I’d lean into his side knowing his arm would always come round me when I was uncertain or feeling left out.

Little touches.

Him smoothing my hair down, petting it back into place just so that Mum wouldn’t get mad at me later. Make me cry. Scream at me that she didn’t know why she spent so long fixing my hair, threaten me with semi-empty threats about how she was going to shave it all off ‘to teach me not to be so naughty’. She often informed me that she wasn’t going to bother fixing my hair if ‘that was all I was going to do’ after.

Little touches.

Like when he kissed all my cuts and bruises that I got from falling over or failing to keep up with him on one of our adventures. Kissed them because he’d seen both of our mums do it a million times before and he knew that it made me happy.

Aged 10 he was the one waiting when i was upset, there for me knowing he was always the one i would run to first. At age 10 he would wash away my tears mature before his time always beyond his years. Aged 10 he told me he would always make me happy, sworn to it. Been so sincere. Not cared that others teased him for hanging around with me, when I was always going to be two years younger.And later when our two became three and Kendall joined in he hadnt minded. Age 10 he told me that he would always be there to make me happy. And at age 10 when he’d made me that promise, he had meant it.

Age 8 I’d smiled when he said that, happier then he could ever know. Smiled with happiness that only he could give me. Age 8 I’d slipped my smaller hand into his bigger one and held on tightly reminding him that I wasn’t about to let go. Age 8 I’d risen on tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, giggling when he’d shied away embarrassed. And aged 8 I’d calmly informed him that I was going to marry him one day. Age 8 I’d meant it too.


CHEAT: Verb - Informal. to be sexually unfaithful Headline Animator