The Excruciatingly Painful Reason I Had No Choice But To Break Up With My Best Friend

When women ask me how to make a guy fall for them, I have one standard answer: become his best friend. It’s the fastest way to a man’s heart.

Not the easiest, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

Why do I give this answer?

Because it’s happened to me so many times that eventually, I figured out there must be some magic force overtaking a man when a woman becomes his friend. She doesn’t even have to be the best one.

Just spend enough time with him, play poker, watch movies, open up pickle jars using him as an opener, and bam — he falls for you!

(Quick disclaimer: You need to be completely uninterested in him as a man for that to happen.)

About 2 years ago I did a huge purge in my life and made sure only the people who were beneficial to my future would stay. That’s how I was left with almost zero friends.

Maybe I’ve been a bit too drastic, or maybe I had a lot of unfit people in my life, but the deed was done: I was all alone.

So I had to come up with some new friends. One of these new friends slowly but surely became a very close friend and eventually a best friend.

We spent many afternoons together: laughing, watching movies, talking about life, and how neither of us wants to be in a relationship again. We were doing great and I was eating a lot more pickles.

Although I considered my dating days to be over, I was a strong advocate for him to start dating again. I knew he wasn’t the kind of person to enjoy life on his own, but he had just been through a bitter divorce that left him gutted.

It was such a painful process that he started hating himself for not being a better husband. And the truth is: he wasn’t a good husband. He was absent-minded, all about work, and completely uninvolved in the family’s life. It was just a matter of time.

He regretted it, but it was already too late.

We spoke about it until I was blue in the face and tears of regret would stream down his cheeks. Then we would go for a walk and eventually, the pain went away, like it usually does.

Until one very ugly day.

We like to take long walks in my neighborhood. I live in a central area of the city: quiet, peaceful, and serene, with the streets lined with old Linden trees.

When I look out the windows all I can see are green branches, as if I were living in a forest. I like to call my apartment ‘the tree house’.

And there we were, taking our walk down these narrow streets, talking, and I could feel his hand repeatedly bump against my hand and forearm. I just moved over a little bit and forgot all about it.

When we met the next time, it happened again… except this time his hand would bump against my hand, forearm, hip, waist, and even derriere.

He didn’t seem to notice. Again, I moved over.

This kept happening, again and again, every time we went for a walk. I started walking at a slant just to avoid it and it became more and more annoying.

But it wasn’t the only thing. He started to pepper our conversations with long awkward pauses when he would just look at me with a sudden glaze over his eyes like he was in a trance.

When I would ask him what was going on, he would say it was nothing, but he wouldn’t look away. Obviously, it was only uncomfortable for me.

Eventually, things hit the fan.

Last weekend we met at my place just to chill, talk, you know … do what friends usually do.

As I was pouring some cardamom-infused bourbon on top of oversized ice cubes, he suddenly fell into his trance, just staring at my face.

"Is there something on my face?" I asked, knowing well there was nothing there.

I just wanted to make him stop.

He didn’t say anything, just looked away. I handed him the frosty glass of alcohol and we both headed for the couch.

I have one of those huge very comfy white couches that you want to spend the entire day on, but life usually gets in the way.

I positioned myself in the extreme far left corner. Just like I do with politics. Just kidding, I swing left, but not too far.

He came over and sat about one foot away, which, in my book unless we’re planning to kiss later on, is much (much!) too close.

We could have easily fit all my neighbors and their kids, plus my two cats in the space he left on the other side of him on the sofa.

Right as I opened my mouth and was about to ask him to move further away, he made a joke about god knows what (I was too distressed to remember it) and with a swift move pushed his whole arm right underneath my couch cushion.

The one I was leaning on. So he pushed his whole arm underneath me!

I jumped up like a cat that just stepped on a cucumber, and in one fell swoop managed to move most of the bourbon from the glass onto my cream-colored shirt.

He froze.

"What’s going on?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"Why don’t you tell me?" I fumed.

"Well, you’re the one who jumped up, I don’t know what happened."

It made me even more angry that he was playing innocent.

"You’re in my personal space. It’s been happening a lot lately. You keep touching me, and you’re all over me! And now you put your whole hand underneath me?!"

"Oh, I didn’t realize I was doing that… I do the same at home, I just put my whole arm under the pillow."

"But now I’m on it!"

He denied it, then found excuses for it, then avoided the subject. You know, the whole process. We kept going back and forth for a while until he finally let it out.

"I think I have a thing for you…"

I knew what he meant, but a small shred of my heart was still hanging on to the hope that maybe it was something else. Anything else. Maybe going deaf? That’s why he needed to be so close to me?

"Oh, a thing… oh, no… what thing? Not that thing, right?" I said with a limp in my voice.

See? Still hoping.

The Excruciatingly Painful Reason I Had No Choice But To Break Up With My Best Friend

You can’t touch a woman into wanting you.

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