When you wonder who your friends are

My best friend walks in tonight with dinner.  I look through movies and ask her what she wants to see.  “Or we could talk about new developements in my life….” she says.

“Like what?”

“Like that I fucked N last night”.

.

.

.

N is my male best friend.  I lost him for 10 years when he was married to a manipulative piece of shit.  He is still in the process of divorce.  She was a smart woman.  She got rid of me because I would see through her bullshit.

I am not happy.  In fact, I start to cry.  Not a good response, but I am currently being tested for perimenopause and my emotions are already at the breaking point.

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want him” she says.

Right.  But I also do not need you to step in and take him again.  I do not need the only time I see him, that time when I include you, to now be your dates and I am the third wheel.  I do not need to skew my friendship with him.  I do not need to lose the open communication because the juicy stuff now has to do with her.  And I do not need to lose my privacy with both of them as pillow talk makes lips loose.

According to her she deserves this after what she has been through (manipulative ex).  What she forgets is he was married.

She had to have J even though she was married.

She moved J into her swanky address and her husband into J’s shitty condo.

ENTITLED.

Fuck this.  Fuck her.  Fuck it all.

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