My Best Friend Used Me For Sex — Then She Threw Me Away

My first experience with a woman was incredible — until our friendship fell apart

When we first met, we clicked right away.

We were in a play together, and we bonded instantly. We were like twins. So much in common, the same sense of humor. It wasn’t long before we were hanging out a ton, even outside of rehearsal.

I grew close with several people in that cast, and it was the most fulfilled I’ve felt in a long time, both creatively and socially.

I didn’t have many close friends at that point. Certainly no female friend whom I could label “BFF.” It was something that was missing from my life, ever since I grew apart from the group I’d graduated high school with.

But I felt a strong connection with this woman I’d just met, down to my soul. She was smart and hilarious. She showed kindness to the people around her, always going out of her way to help. She made me want to be a better person.

She was also fun and exciting — often telling me about some crazy drama in her life.

It should have been a red flag, but I was so drawn to her. Drawn to her and the drama. Finally, I wasn’t bored. I felt alive again. It was all strictly platonic.

At first.

She told me she was attracted to me

One night, we were out with friends at a bar. She and I found ourselves alone together, having braved the blustery cold for one of her smoke breaks. We were both pretty warm and cozy from the alcohol when she looked me in the eye and said something like, “You know, I’m very much straight, but I’m really attracted to you.”

This took me by surprise. It also confused me. Straight, but into another woman? Maybe “straight” wasn’t the word she was looking for, I thought, but who am I to force a label?

I hadn’t thought about my feelings for her beyond how closely and quickly we’d become such close friends. She was the first gal pal to call me wifey. The first friend who said “I love you” as a friend and mean it. She wasn’t afraid to say what she thought or show her emotions.

I was honest and told her I was drawn to her, too. She was an attractive, intelligent, and talented woman. I just hadn’t thought of that beyond an amazing friendship before that moment.

But with her confession, I felt like we were growing closer.

I didn’t dwell on that conversation too much afterward. All I knew was that I trusted her. I felt completely comfortable with her and thrilled by her at the same time.

“Can I kiss you?”

She was the first woman I ever made out with.

About four months after we’d met, we were still going strong in our friendship, hanging out more than any other adult friend I’d ever spent time with.

She asked if she could kiss me when we were alone on my porch, at a small party I hosted just before covid hit. We’d been drinking, yet again, and we were talking shit about the people who were making our lives difficult. Bonding in our misery and also making each other laugh too hard, as was commonplace for us.

Her friendship was becoming more and more important to me as time went on, and at that point, I thought of her as my best friend.

When she asked if she could kiss me, I was unbelievably nervous. I said yes, thrilled to jump into uncharted territory. When her lips touched mine, I felt a lot of things, not all of them identifiable. Her lips were soft, fuller than mine, and she was an amazing kisser. She really knew what the fuck she was doing. Even though I’d only kissed men up to that point, I could see she was an expert. I could feel her passion.

I kissed a girl and…you know the rest.

She tasted like cigarettes, but I could get past that with her. I felt like we were connected at the soul.

To say my emotions are tied to physical intimacy is an understatement, huh?

The kiss was good. Great, actually. It was hot.

After that, I simply viewed us as very close friends who happened to enjoy a shared kiss. I also remember being intrigued, thinking that if we wanted to explore things further, somewhere down the line, I’d likely be open to it. But I didn’t expect it.

Again, I felt so excited. So alive. She’d found the hole in my heart and filled it right up.

I remember making out with her a second time, on a different night, when we were hanging out together just the two of us. It was more familiar then, and our kisses were longer and deeper — our connection stronger.

It was all very innocent and exciting then. I was just enjoying the ride with her, this woman who went after what she wanted, when she wanted it. I admired her zest for life and hoped it would rub off on me.

I never felt used by her then. That came later, after the night we hooked up.

We shared an intense (for me) erotic experience

We’d been enjoying drinks and watching a movie with one of our mutual guy friends. This was a guy she’d been physically involved with, someone she slept with on occasion, and someone she was getting pretty attached to, according to what she’d told me.

I remember the three of us lying on his bed during the movie (When Harry Met Sally, which I love and have seen multiple times). I was so relaxed and almost asleep in my cozy wine cacoon, when I heard her whisper something to him. He then leaned over me, put his lips close to mine, and gently kissed me.

I stopped him just after our lips connected, not wanting to get into anything with him without my husband knowing about it first. I felt like a prude, to be honest. But I didn’t want to push boundaries with my husband when we hadn’t quite worked out the boundaries of what a non-monogamous relationship would look like for us.

They both were very kind and understanding about my wanting to stop things. And we ended the evening at his place on a good note.

I realized I had maybe, possibly, just been invited into what could have turned into a threesome. Or maybe it would have just been some very enjoyable kissing among three people who shared plenty of sexual tension. Who knows? Honestly, I enjoyed the adrenaline rush that the mere possibility of something more had given me.

When my friend and I got back to her place, we shared more drinks on her patio. I was too tipsy to drive home, so she kindly invited me to stay in her guest bedroom.

I had just turned the lights off and snuggled under the covers when the door cracked open. She hopped into bed with me, wearing nothing but her underwear and a tank top with no bra.

That was the first and only time things moved beyond kissing.

We enjoyed just kissing each other at first, and then her hand eventually made its way past the waistband of my underwear, her fingers massaging the most sensitive part between my legs with the perfect amount of pressure. She had me writhing in orgasm just a few short minutes later.

I was surprised that it had happened so easily for me. Any time I had sex with a man for the first time, I never climaxed. Not until he learned my body and how I most enjoyed being touched.

But for her, it was like the simplest and most natural thing in the world.

After I recovered, I climbed on top of her, straddling one of her thighs and kissing her deeply. I pulled down the straps of her tank top. I had never touched another woman’s breasts, and I was again surprised at how enjoyable and natural it felt to kiss them, massage them, and simply feel their weight in my hands.

My hand eventually found its way into her underwear as well. The way she’d touched me before had me feeling quite brave, and I wasn’t a bit nervous.

I loved how enthusiastic and vocal she was in her response to pleasure. She was just as passionate and spirited in bed as she was in life. It’s what had initially drawn me to her as a friend. She orgasmed once and encouraged me to keep going. She soon came again, and I was pretty in awe of the whole situation.

It wasn’t weird or awkward. It was perfectly lovely. We chatted and laughed together for a bit, and then she left to her own bed, all smiles.

The rise and fall of “us”

When we talked about what happened between us over text messaging, she brushed it off.

“I was just being drunk and silly!” she texted the next day. “I get like that sometimes.”

Her words seemed to diminish the way I felt. I realized our physical exchange meant more to me than it did to her. It was a first for me, and one of the most enjoyable and successful sexual firsts I’d ever experienced with anyone.

I’d never had any physical relationship with a woman. I’d never thought about it or desired it. Yet what we shared that night felt so natural, so pleasurable, that I found myself reconsidering my sexuality at age 34.

I still very much thought I preferred men, but in this case, it didn’t matter what my friend’s gender was — I was under her spell, period. I would have loved to explore more with her, but that seemed to not be an option after that night.

She never made another move like that again, and neither did I. We still spent lots of time together and talked every day. For a while, anyway.

A few times, we butted heads over drama that was going on within our circle of friends. I caught her in a lie at one point, and I became super uncomfortable when I realized how good she was at it. We went away from the argument about her dishonesty with our friendship damaged, and several other arguments followed.

She suffered from bipolar disorder, so I made it a point to give her as much grace as I could. She would go through some serious bouts of feeling down on herself, and I always tried to build her back up. I’d often check in on her to see if she was getting the treatment she needed, and if there was anything I could do to help. Even just talk.

But if I ever reached out to her when I was feeling depressed, which was more rare at that time, she didn’t seem to have the patience for me.

There was a point when I started feeling like she’d used me that night we hooked up.

To her, we were just being “silly drunk girls.” But looking back on it, I think it’s possible she was feeling turned on after hanging out with our mutual male friend. She had it bad for him, and she wanted to sleep with him again. Since she couldn’t, she settled for what she had — me, in her guest bedroom.

I knew I needed to get some of my feelings out about our hookup, if our friendship was going to move forward.

I let her know that it had affected me deeply and meant a lot to me, even though I’d never had feelings for a woman before. Maybe even because I’d never had feelings for a woman before.

I found myself tip-toeing around my emotions with her, not being as direct as I would have been with anyone else. I knew that whenever I had a complaint, she would turn the situation around on me and accuse me of having friendship standards that were too high.

“I just can’t do anything right with you,” she’d say. “I’m a constant fuckup. A piece of garbage.”

I look back on that now and see it as a manipulation tactic.

I tried being as nice as I could about why it bothered me. I didn’t want to add any more stress to her plate, but I had unresolved feelings. She’d gotten what she wanted out of me physically, and that was that. And it hurt.

I still loved and cared for her, but our friendship started to shift in the months following our night together.

We grew farther apart, and we stopped talking every day. It wasn’t any one thing that ended our friendship as we knew it, but a series of things.

I later noticed that we’d only talk if I reached out to her. And if I asked her about hanging out, she was always busy with other plans, other friends. She was so unusually busy for so long that I knew something was amiss. Well, even more amiss than usual.

She started replying to my texts with one-word responses. Later, I heard from my husband that she’d told him she wanted to distance herself from me because she “wasn’t bisexual.” She also thought I drank too much and often got too dramatic.

I was too much drama? Really, lady? And we often enjoyed drinking together. Both of us. With no peer pressure from myself.

And I resented that bisexual remark. Not because I’m at all ashamed of questioning my own sexuality, but because I never ever pushed her to be physical with me after the night she snuck into my room and got into bed with me when I was drunk.

She had always initiated the physical part of our relationship. And I didn’t try to start anything with her ever again, even if I was developing deeper and more confusing feelings about what we were.

The thing is, our friendship was more important to me than any sexual aspect of our relationship.

I didn’t care if we were nothing but platonic, as long as we had this strong friendship.

But I went through months of depression and grief after losing it.

Struggling without intimate friends

Nowadays, my friend and I don’t see each other much. We only text once in a while.

Randomly, she reached out to me when she heard that my husband and I were separated. She wanted to know what had happened, but that was after we’d grown so far apart that I no longer felt safe being vulnerable with her.

Funnily enough, she also reached out to my husband and tried to get the scoop about our separation from him. I think it was more because she was curious about the drama, and less so because she cared about my feelings.

I’m a firm believer that we can’t force anyone to want to spend time with us or maintain a close friendship. She’s preoccupied with plenty of her other friends now, from what I see on social media. And she seems to have moved on from whatever it was that we shared for over a year.

I still miss what we had as inseparable female friends, though. I miss it so badly. Now, I don’t have any close friends of any gender. And the loneliness and isolation have been weighing heavily on me.

I see other people sharing deep, wonderful, intimate friendships, and I yearn to have what they have.

You’d think that I’ve had enough of close friendships, of letting people in when I’m afraid we’ll only grow apart. But I think it’s that “better to have loved and lost” vibe for me. Friendships are so, so important. And it truly sucks when they disappear.

Even though I miss her, there are other wonderful people out there, other deep connections to be made and experiences to be had.

I’m impatient, but when the right friend (or friends) comes along, I think it’ll be worth the wait.