She had long lustrous hair. It wasn’t hers, but she bought it and got that weave done well, all the time. She walked funny, to be honest; she literally just slid on the ground half the time, the other half, she spent dragging her feet. She was beautiful… in her own way; not to say that she wasn’t pretty, but on first impression, what she had wasn’t beauty. I would call it physical charisma, a pseudo-weird sexual attraction. She was sexy, but more of a goofball to be frank. The winner was that she made me laugh. Not in a bimbo-esque sort of way, nor in that Wanda Sykes kind of way either. It was more of a “she’s a funny person” kind of way; okay, come to think about it, she was a bit of a bimbo sometimes, but she always knew when, so it was never that big of a deal. She wasn’t the general type of attractive you know. For example, she talked really slowly, like a bridge between a sexy bedroom voice… and a slur/speech impediment; I found that… funny and… attractive?

                She wasn’t mine, but you know how guys are. When we grow fond of something, we have this innate urge to own it; or covet it, in this case. I wanted her to be mine. I don’t know why, but I wanted the two of us to have that extra special connection. It’s not like we had a lot in common or could really say much if we were given an ultimatum to “gist or die” but… as the cliché goes, there was just something about her. There was something I couldn’t and still can’t put a finger on. Some say it was that allure of what you can’t have that she possessed. I beg to differ. Actually, before my inspiration to ‘covet’ her; I had fought the urge to appreciate her in the first place. She was one of those girls that gets courted by a lot of guys but none succeed to get her, needless to say, I didn’t want to be on the list of guys who ‘liked’ her in the first place. However, she was ticklish and that is always a plus… I got to business.

                She always laughed at all my jokes. By the book, that has two meanings: either she actually found me funny or she liked me. I preferred the latter. I went with it and begun my voyage. Like Sinbad in his prime, I went after ‘what I couldn’t have’. What made her something I couldn’t have was simple; we were both in relationships with other counterparts we “loved”. The catch was that they were both long distance relationships. We both understood the hardships involved with those. We knew. So, we would keep ourselves company and slowly our ‘friendship’ grew closer and more ambiguous. It looked like the quest would soon be at a close. At this point, we were at the pseudo-courtship, pseudo-friends-with-benefits stage and I loved it. All but the hitting… she was very, how do I say this, ‘punchy’ when she was playing.

                Then, the thorn snagged my trouser cuff. The thorn? It was me. I brought in the bogus complication. Well, it wasn’t really a complication, more of me being a grand asshole and assuming everyone thought the way I did. In all seriousness, in the very first place, I can’t recall how I imagined she would leave her ‘loved one’ for me. Why didn’t anyone tell me it was a bad idea? Oh! That reminds me, I forgot to tell you her name. Her name was… is Aima. Back to the complication: there was another ‘voyage’ running alongside Aima’s. It wasn’t a planned one, it was more of an ‘it-just-happened’ situation. Apparently, Aima’s best friend and I were already friends-with-benefits… but that’s a story for another day.

You thought that was complicated?... Now this is a complex situation....

                When I felt I was in the comfort zone with Aima, I culled all the strength, boldness and hope I could gather, and started rambling on about my true intentions from the get-go; how we got closer; how we both hated our long distance relationships, as I had assumed; how she should take the time to think about how much fun we had shared and could continue to have together. Much more, culminating a long list of compelling and slightly convincing arguments. She said she would think about it and that’s when the shit hit the fan big time. She told her best friend. Everything. To be frank, I don’t think I should mention that part of the story because it isn’t mine to tell, I barely have a perspective on the true nature of what happened so… yeah. All I do know is that I put Aima in a fix, more or less a choice between me, her long distance relationship and her best friend and we all know I wouldn’t be telling you this if I was picked so…

Are you sure those aren't little evil bat wings?

                Now, what was the point of all this? What’s the moral to the story? Well, it’s simple, before I took the time to write this down, I had never shared this story and I always looked at it with scorn. Like my heart was in it so the whole ordeal was worth the try… that’s what the movies tell you. In reality, it was an utterly stupid thing to do. If I really wanted Aima, I should have cut all ties before even embarking on my metaphorical voyage. Also, Aima’s best friend, my ‘friend-with-benefits’, may have liked me but preferred the title-less engagement in order to avert a heartbreak for/from either party. A heartbreak that happened nonetheless. That should prove further that if you want something, you should go for it. And finally, if you ever get the idea that you should date your friend-with-benefits’ best friend, at least have the respect and courtesy to tell her first; apart from the truth potentially setting you free, she will get hurt, but she may also ensure that your Aima would be a shoe-in to get.


About th3rdculture

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