And I Said “No”
By: Jona Vark
Tags: Rape, Feminism, Metoo, Sexual Harrassment

2. The ‘Best Friend’

We met when I was 17 (I think). Just fresh off highschool and being hopeful about love. I became better looking after highschool. Looked after myself better. Gave less of a fuck about my dwarfism.

We initially met online. We were having a heated discussion over something stupid, I’m sure. We were agreeing on the same thing, arguing with others who were disagreeing. He was intelligent — which dazzled 17-year-old me who didn’t know what anything was. I didn’t know about feminism, I didn’t know about atheism, I didn’t know much about science, I didn’t know what socialism, capitalism, communism was. I was a blank slate.

Here he was, discussing ‘stuff’ using ‘big words’ and I’m just there arguing horribly, breaking all the rules of arguing because I did not know what ad hominem was, what straw man was, etc. He guided me through it all. He was a HUGE and I mean HUGE advocate for feminism too. It was plastered everywhere on his social media accounts, etc.

We started to really like each other and one day, we met up with a few friends. Had drinks, and ended up holding hands. I loved the way he smelled — though now I shudder every time I smell the same scent.

We ‘dated’ for a while, I suppose, but he studied in a different state, so I barely got to see him. He was always busy with studies too, and I understood so I backed off. And then I met my first ex, who was a wonderful musician, smarter, better looking, and he was passionate about a lot of things — which taught me a lot more than the ‘best friend’.

First red flag I should’ve noticed with ‘the best friend’ was the intense ‘mansplaining’ he would do. He’d go on a tirade if I didn’t know something. He was condescending. But I was unintelligent back then, so I took the condescension as a motivation to ‘get smarter’. My ex, however, was kinder, sweeter with his words. Guided me with patience.

It was easy to move on to my ex, and I did. Fresh-out-of-high-school me also just wanted to get in a relationship quickly because I was to be married at 25 — cue the cackling I’m doing right now.

It broke the ‘best friend’s heart when I told him I fell in love with someone else. But we remained friends.

I went to the UK to study for a year, ended thing with my ex because I was young and wanted to ‘experience’ more. Maintaining a long-distance relationship was also hard. So I let him go. Months later, I found my 2nd ex who was an amazing guy — long-story-short; we broke up a few months after I returned back to my country because long-distance relationship was hard — but what’s new?

I got back to my country and immediately the ‘best friend’ wanted to meet up. I met up with him the day I landed itself, told him all the fun stories, and it was all good.

Months later, I broke up, and was in shambles. I was thoroughly broken. I lost my boyfriend, I lost my friends, I lost the ‘family’ I built there. All I wanted was to get drunk and forget everything I lost. And he introduced me to new friends of his, in hopes I’ll build new relationships here.

The perk? The drinks were always paid for. Just join and you’ll get free drinks. How can someone like me who’s working a part-time job decline anyone with an offer like that?

I don’t know how long it was, or how many times I went out with them and the ‘best friend’.

All I remember is hazy. That we would drink till the sun rose and that the ‘best friend’ would send me home, and make out with me. Me in shambles needed that, I suppose. ‘Stupid’. I know.

Probably months later I met a friend of his and I suddenly had feelings again. We clicked well, he was charming, once again; smart, and well-spoken. I asked the ‘best friend’ if he was taken and immediately his demeanor changed. He said he’s taken. So I backed off. Later on he’d tell me he was married with a child. I backed off further.

It was months later that I found out he was married but separated. And he was seeing another friend of ours. The ‘best friend’ surely left that out. He starting seeing that friend of ours after the first night I met him. What a cockblocker.

Sooner or later, this friend — who was quite a playboy — started being flirtatious with me. There was a lot of hip touching, hand-holding, and long intense looks. But the ‘best friend’ would always insist on sending me home because I was ‘drunk’. And in the car would make out with me like he was the one who needed some tension released.

I let it slide because (a) I was pretty smashed, (b) I was still in shambles trying to make sense of my life, (c) I needed comforting and he was always there. But I wasn’t attracted to him in any way, and I know I never wanted a relationship with him. The chemistry we had was platonic, never romantic. Every make-out session felt as dry and boring as white bread — but I let it happen because why not?

And before anyone starts the ‘you were leading him on’ argument, do take into consideration that I’ve told him time and time again that nothing will ever happen between us and that I like us being friends. Every make-out session was him initiating it and me letting it slide — because I was completely broken and felt nothing on the inside.

And then I started seeing that now-divorced friend of his and I told him whatever is happening between us has to stop. I know I’ll never end up with said divorcee because he told me upfront he wasn’t into relationships at the time, but we had chemistry which I liked much more than white bread. And for once, I started feeling things again. Like real things. Real like — I like him but I won’t end up with him, but god I really want to feel his body against mine.

And I’m not one to snog 2 people at one time.

After I attended a wedding with the ‘best friend’ (he knew the bride too and we were close so I figured to just bring him) he asked me the last time “is anything ever going to happen with us?”.

I had a lot to drink, so my answer wasn’t that nice.

I scoffed.

And laughed.

And said with no hesitation at all “No”.

He started driving erratically. I explained “you ask me this a million times, and I’ve always said ‘no’. Nothing has changed either, so why did you expect my answer to be different? Is it the wedding?”

He declined. We headed off to another place to meet with some friends and continue drinking. That night, he got completely wasted, I had to hitch a ride home with another friend (thankfully I lived just 5 minutes away), and was thoroughly rude to me.

I pushed it aside as him having just ‘one of those days’.

We hung out again as I didn’t expect anything to change but it did.

One night he insisted on sending me home. He knew I was already into his friend. He knew ‘we’ were over. And he stopped right in front my house and tried to go in for a kiss. I was pretty drunk, but sober enough to know I didn’t want it. I had just gotten my mental state back to one piece. I knew myself better and I knew I didn’t want this.

“No” I pushed him away, giggling because we just had a good night of drinking with some friends.

I pulled me in closer.

“Nooo” I pushed him. But his lips managed to reach mine. I could feel his tongue wriggling itself into my mouth. Alcohol-ridden breath and saliva trying to break through.

“Stop it” I shoved him. “I have to go” and I opened his car door, nervously laughing this time, trying to escape.

He pulled me back in and shoved his tongue down my throat, pinning me to the car seat.

I gave one last hard push “NO”.

And then ran out the car, into my house, into my room, took a full shower, almost drank the mouth wash and laid down.

I know he was my ‘best friend’. But something inside me told me that was wrong. And I felt wrong. And I felt used.

I felt violated.

I said “no”. Why didn’t he stop? Wasn’t he a feminist? Wasn’t he always about respecting women? I said “no”.

I was 25 back then.