In a weird way, I guess everything happened the way it did because both our girlfriends were such garbage people. So... I guess we should thank them?
I'm Jason. When it all started, I was 29 and pretty much in the prime of life. While going slack for a bit in college, I got my shit together, got back into shape and had a body I could be proud of. I wasn't a gym rat, but worked out regularly to burn off steam, clear my head, and stay healthy. I had grown into my looks, and with no false modesty can claim that I was pretty good looking--a slightly rougher version of The Guy Next Door. Just rough enough around the edges that the ladies found me irresistible. I had calmed down from my early horndog days, but still loved the constant female attention.
Through hard work and more than a little bit of luck, I had scored on a great job. I got my foot in the door into a niche field right out of school, and worked my ass off to make a name for myself. Paying my dues had worked well; now a few years later, I was rising through the ranks with plenty of good options ahead. I was making enough money to buy a small house in an older, quirkier part of town. It was one of those areas going through a transition, and as the old buildings got renovated my neighborhood became a hot destination. Relative to my buddies, I was sitting pretty, and with each passing day I was feeling more like a grownup.
My social life had never been better. I was part of a crew of guys, the core of which had met living in the dorms our first year at college. Our floor became, well, infamous... those of us who hadn't been suspended or expelled at the end of freshman year had matching shirts made that read, "Wallace 4 North: You Will Never Find a More Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy." Over the years added more guys into the inner circle. Time and the addition of girlfriends to our gatherings mellowed us out considerably, but we still knew how to cut loose. They were all great guys, and we had each other's' backs 100%, no questions. We still got together regularly, at a dive/neighborhood pub called Town Hall, which was just a few minutes from my house. We were fucking kings.
To most folks, the highpoint of my life was that I had somehow managed to snag one of the hottest girls in town as my girlfriend. Angie was smoking hot, with long flowing hair, a sweet ass, and a gorgeous smile that melted guys' hearts. We had been together for going on nine months, and generally it had been great. She liked sex, had a great sense of humor, and seemed to really be into me. Everyone thought I was the luckiest guy in the world, me included.
The problem? Her fucking friends.
I mean, Angie was sweet... but her friends were the trashiest people you could imagine. Manipulative. Disrespectful. And totally disloyal to their boyfriends. The worst was Alicia--Angie's "best friend." She was the Queen Bee, and real piece of work. Cold. Domineering. Like she believed her own press releases. My Angie was cute, in a natural way. But Alicia was... harder, more artificial in her look. To me, it looked like she was trying too hard. Made worse by a whole lot of over-the-top flirting. But she had charisma, a certain look that made men drool. Guys generally seemed to be dazzled by her, so I guess it was working for her?
Alicia was engaged to a guy named Matt... and that's where the problem was. I couldn't understand why she treated Matt so badly. I barely knew him, as we only talked in passing at large-scale events the girls hosted, but by any objective standard the guy was fucking amazing. I mean, I'm a straight guy who has never paid much attention to how other guys look, but even I was impressed. He had like a movie-star quality to him--so good looking that whenever he walked into a room, all the other guys reflexively held their girls tighter. He could have been a pretty-boy, but he had a... rougher, roguish side to him, with a short, dark beard that gave him a sense of danger. He also had a strong athletic frame that I couldn't help but envy. Plus, he was financially set. I couldn't remember exactly what he did, but remember hearing that he had some sweet urban loft downtown. When Matt proposed to Alicia, he gave her this stunning ring that all the rest of the girls babbled about non-stop for a couple weeks.
Matt seemed to be the catch of a life time. But Alicia treated him like dogshit.
I mean, even with this prince of a guy, she was sleeping around on him All. The. Fucking. Time. I couldn't believe the stories my girl Angie told me, about Alicia cancelling dates with Matt at the last minute to get it on with some other random guy, or getting nasty with someone at a pool party she was hosting. Blowing some guy in the john. Absolutely no respect for her fucking fiancé. Worse, Alicia started using Angie and I as cover, telling Matt that she was with us when she was actually out snorting coke and banging a guy in the parking lot.
I was really, really, REALLY uncomfortable with this. For one, one of my college girlfriends cheated on me with a guy I knew, and it ripped me apart. Totally crushed my confidence. The few months of hell that followed were not something I would wish on my worst enemy. And I was pissed as hell that I was being used as cover against my will.
But it really bothered me that my girlfriend Angie didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that all her best friends were so fucking awful. She treated it as completely normal, and had no problem gabbing away with these women as they talked about how badly they were screwing over the "loves of their lives."
Over the last few months, I realized this was going to be an insurmountable problem for our relationship. I trusted Angie, and didn't think she was screwing around my back--in part because she knew this was a deal-breaker for me and I'd drop her in a second if I even thought she was getting some side action. But I was losing respect for Angie day by day. And I knew that if she was surrounded by friends who had no problems cheating, she was likely to become desensitized to things, too.
Maybe that was unfair, but it was harder and harder to see this as a relationship that would work in the long-term.
Thing is, there was no way to explain this to Angie. She had grown up with this circle of friends literally since grade school, and they meant everything to her. There was no way I could compete. And Angie knew how I felt--I was venting about it more and more often. Telling her one last time, or giving her an ultimatum wouldn't make a bit of difference.
So, I just... ended it with Angie. Made up some bullshit about how we were too different, and while I cared for her it just wasn't going to work out. She was generally sad, tried to fight to keep us together, but we ultimately agreed to separate and hopefully remain friends. Done and done.
There was one last thing I wanted to set right... the situation with Matt. He knew nothing about what was going on behind his back, and I felt that I owed it to him to at least give him a warning before he tied the knot. Back when my college girlfriend cheated on me, a guy I barely knew had done the same for me... coming forward and letting me know what was happening. It was painful, but I really appreciated the guts it took for him to warn me. That guy and I became friends after that, and now he was a central figure in my crew.
Matt needed to be told. And if no one else would, I sure as hell could buy the guy a beer and set him straight.
I was able to get his contact info from Angie. She asked why I was looking for it, and when I told her my plans she fucking flipped out. I had no right! I couldn't ruin Alicia's life like that! We ended up having the biggest fight of our relationship. She even ended up making some pretty nasty threats at me.
Yeah, fuck that.
I reached out to Matt that same night. I told him who I was, gave him the short and skinny about what was happening behind his back, and sent him a couple screen shots of Alicia begging Angie and I to cover for her while she went out with some other guy. I offered to talk to him over the phone or in person, and to answer any questions and to do what I could to help him through this.
Minutes later, he called me back.
That was probably one of the most uncomfortable calls of my life. I laid out everything I knew. He had a hard time believing me at first, but as I provided dates, times, and even a couple of names I had heard, he got deadly quiet. After a pause, he exploded.
"What the fuck was she doing? How the fuck could she do this? Did everyone else know about this, too??" The questions came fast and furious, barely missing a beat.
