First, a bit of disclaimer: I’m not posting this to brag about anything, nor am I trying to garner pity (as I’m in this situation strictly by my own fault).
Now, the background… I have a friend. A lady friend. Technically, a platonic lady friend. For the sake of protecting the not-so-innocent, we’ll call her, oh, Flinn. Anyway, I met Flinn last February or so, at auditions for a play we worked on. Nothing significant came out of this… we didn’t really talk all that much, didn’t become particularly close, after the show ended I didn’t expect to see her again. A passing acquaintance, really. However, during this show, she developed a romantic relationship with another guy in the cast, a “friend of a friend” sort of guy. They had a bit of a hot-'n-heavy sexual thing for a couple months, and then he dumped her. That was that, it seemed.
Then came the next show over the summer, My Fair Lady. She was there in the cast, of course. During rehearsals, she decided to ask me to give her a ride home, and so I did. It was during this that I discovered just how intelligent, reasonable, and just plain coversable (is that a word?) she was. Over the course of several weeks, we became very close. Very, very close. To the point that we had a near-almost-sorta-kinda-fling. Nothing much happened, though, because her ex-boyfriend - that “friend of a friend” guy (we’ll call him, say, Shoe) - became upset that I was becoming close to his ex. They had several fights (he insisted that they try to “remain friends”), which led me to believe he was just being a dick. Turned out, Shoe wanted her back. And Flinn, despite admitting that it was a stupid move, acquiesced.
Well, oh well. I took my big ol’ step back, let them crazy kids have at it for a month or so. 'Course, I was miffed when I found out Shoe was pissed at me… turns out that Flinn told him that the feelings 'tween us were one-way only (that she never had any feelings for me), despite having told me, numerous times, the contrary. But, again, oh well. Nothing I can do about that. I do my best to move on, to put distance 'tween me and her.
Turns out, that’s not what she wants. The next show, this Fall, at auditions, we run into each other again. I give her a bit of the cold shoulder (a little rude, unfortunately, but necessary and prudent, I think… turns out I was right, but I’m getting ahead of myself). She insists on talking to me, on trying to rekindle the friendship - platonic friendship, anyway - that we had over the summer. I explain to her my worries, but she says she’s willing to take the risk… the fact that I still had very deep feelings for her, and that those feelings might overcome my judgment (again, turns out I was right).
Shoe, of course, gets jealous at the fact that she and I are so emotionally and intellectually close. He, of course, dislikes having any sort of deep emotional discussions, nor is he particularly bright. Whenever she tried to discuss things with him, he would patronize her (“Oh, you don’t want to worry about that.”) and dismiss her. Further, he was very, very clingy. After about a month, Flinn complained to me that he was “smothering” her. I advised her to tell him this, to discuss their relationship. Unfortunately, it didn’t go over well… to make a long story slightly less long, he overreacted and thought that “You’re smothering me!” meant “I don’t want to see you anymore!” So he threw a fit, prompting her to give in to his desire to smother her. She didn’t seem to mind much, so I again, I figured, oh well.
Time passed. Flinn and I maintained our friendship, far better than Flinn and Shoe maintained their relationship. Things continued… one night, at a friend’s house, she and I had a bit of an “encounter”. We happened to be lying on the same bed. Earlier in the evening, both of us were discussing, at length, how goddamned horny we were. Now, on that bed… SPOOFE started getting some randy hands. I began rubbing her arm, then her back, then my fingers began fondling her breast… I leaned down, whispered in her ear, “Do you want me to stop?” She shook her head no. So I continued. After a few minutes of this, my hand snaked down past her ribcage, past her tummy, and slid under the waist of her pants, and down towards the Pearly Gates. Again, I whispered, “Do you want me to stop?” and again, she shook her head. However… I pulled my hand back, and whispered, “I’m going to stop anyway.” That was that for the evening.
Anyway… There came a point where a fellow cast member - I’ll call him Jack - commented on how he wanted to get a picture of a scantily clad buxom girl (partly for his character in the show, but mostly for his own enjoyment). Flinn volunteered to pose for these images. Jack then asked if he could get a topless shot. Flinn agreed. And who do you think got to take these shots? That’s right… me. Still got 'em, and WOO-WEE, are they beautiful (no, I’m not gonna post 'em). She wound up insisting that we take numerous topless shots, and asked me to pose her. So I did.
ANYWAY… things continued… one night, after I drove her home, we had another encounter. Ever since last summer, we had developed a habit of sitting in my car in front of her house and talking (yes, just talking, at least until this night) for hours on end. Tonight, though, after a bit of conversation, I asked her to climb over the divider between seats and sit on my lap. She did, and we cuddled for a while. We kept talking - quieter and more intimately than before - in this position. Finally, I asked her to kiss me. She did. Again, I went back to fondling her. And, again, my hand snaked down to her nether regions… I undid her pants, and in my SPOOFEy hand went. I fingered her for a few minutes, during which time she really began rubbing up against me, and, in the throes of passion, she began kissing me deeply. Well, I kissed back, of course.
After a few minutes, I asked her if she wanted me to keep doing it more. She paused, and said, “This is so wrong!” I asked her, once again, if she wanted me to stop. She paused, and then answered, “Yes.” So I pulled my hand out of her panties, re-fastened her pants, and allowed her to climb out of the car. We said our good-nights, and I drove him (completely in a daze, mind you… sadly to say, that was the first time I’d had any sort of sexual encounter with anyone).
Fast forward a bit… obviously, she asked that what happened between us couldn’t ever happen again. I agreed. I was fine with that. So I cooled my jets. Did I feel bad about what I did? A little. But my happiness during the experience, my comfort and contentment, overrode that guilt.
ANYWAY… I was content to just let things go. Frankly, I had no qualms letting the universe know - I have this obsessive desire to be honest - and if anyone had asked, I’d have told them the truth. But Flinn insisted that I keep things quiet, so I did. BUT THEN… last night, of all nights, Flinn and Shoe had a “talk”. Apparently, he was starting to notice the fact that she has zero respect for him (“I’ll leave him the second someone better comes along.”) and asked her about it. So she told him everything (or “almost everything”, as she told me) that had happened between her and me. Again, which I would have been fine with… if it weren’t for one niggling detail: She claims that everything I did, I forced her into… that I kissed her, for instance, despite the fact that she said “no” (she didn’t… in fact, she kissed me).
I can deal with people who thought that I was cheating with a girl. That’s fine. I admit my guilt, no problem. However, now I have to deal with the stigma of some of my friends thinking that I had forced myself onto a girl, that I was the only one guilty in the situation. Well, t’hell with that, says I. I talk to her this evening, and tell her, first, that I’m going to take a big ol’ step back away. Get out of the situation, first and foremost, since it’s obvious that I can’t properly behave while in it. Second, I asked her how she expected me to trust her if she was going to fling me to the wolves just to cover her own ass (my opinion? She liked the sex with Shoe too much to come clean about everything). And, thirdly, I told her that she’d better tell the full truth about the situation, because I’d have no qualms in doing so. I’ll give her a chance to set the situation “right” before I decide to give everyone my own version of events.
So, anyway, that’s my situation. The funny thing is that this is the short-short-ultra-simplified version, and that this girl has been caught up in a bit of a love pentagon (excluding my own involvement). To be frank, numerous people have described her as a “slut”… but I hate to make that conclusion, and instead choose to call her a silly young girl who likes to hide behind sex as a means of emotional armor. But that’s neither here nor there… and this post is getting long enough as it is.
