Significant others are fine and dandy, but sometimes only a fuck-buddy can cure what ails you
By Jordan Heath-Rawlings
There’s a bond that develops between good friends who are attracted to each other, but never act on it. Some sort of hyper-sexual tension that can eventually boil over. When it does, you’re in bed with friend you’ve known forever. Touching places you’ve tried to glimpse for years. Moving the kiss over those two important inches from cheek to lips. Sliding the lips down to where you’ve always thought they belonged. Boldly going where no friend has gone before.
But can you come back? Can you raise your head, look back into the eyes of a childhood friend and ask the all important question, “was it good for you too?”
Platonic friends to a man, according to comedian Chris Rock, are just “women we haven’t fucked… yet.”
To a woman, says Rock, they are, “like a dick in a glass jar. In case of emergency, break the glass!”
But what emerges from those emergencies? What happens after you spend a night tangled up with a friend you’ve always known but never really touched, at least not down there?
A whole lot, according to some experienced friend-fuckers, and little of it is good. But it all depends on the situation, the history and most importantly, the friend.
A fuck-friend is completely different from a fuck-buddy, says Jamie, a Ryerson business student who wouldn’t giver her real name but admits she’s had a few of both.
“A fuck-buddy is like, ‘hey, you’re cute, let’s fuck,’” she says. “And you keep going as long as it suits you both. With a friend that’s always been there, it’s a lot more emotional.”
Jamie crossed that blurry line between friends and lovers last August. She did it with a friend she’d known since grade six, in Withrow Park on Logan Avenue, in the dead of night, in a grove of trees next to an ice rink shut down for the summer.
“It was neutral territory,” Jamie says. “That was key. Also, we were both hammered.”
There were surprises of course, there always are.
“He has a really big dick too,” Jamie says. “All of these years. Who knew?”
“It was lovely, in a really weird way,” she says of the sex. “And I don’t regret it. We’ve hung out as friends since, and it’s been alright as long as there are others around. When it’s just the two of us though, it’s a little strange.”
“We actually don’t hang out alone that much anymore. It’s kind of sad, but he has a girlfriend now, he doesn’t need sex from me.”
“Still,” she says. “I thought the whole point was that we shared more than sex. That’s what I thought when we did it anyway.”
David is a third-year philosophy student at the University of Toronto. So is his girlfriend, Shelly. They met in the fall of their second-year and they’ve been dating ever since.
“It’s good,” David says of their relationship. “But she doesn’t know about Jane.”
Jane and David have been friends for six years. They’ve been fucking for three. Jane is the reason David would not allow real names to be used in this story.
“Oh, God,” he says. “It would wreck everything.”
“Shelly has met her a couple of times,” David says, “And they get along really well, and she has no idea, which makes me feel like a bit of a jackass.”
“But me and Jane aren’t a couple. We’ll never get married… It’s just a special bond. Like the one I have with Shelly, but not really.”
“Yeah, that’s corny,” he laughs. “But that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night anyway.”
Jane and David have been drinking together about once a week since they shared a grade 12 class at Northern Secondary School in North Toronto. They used to get drunk and hang out like best buds do. Then, those buds started to flower.
“One night (during first-year) I showed up to meet her are Sneaky Dee’s,” David says, “I was drunk (when I arrived), she was barely standing.”
“I always walk her home, and while that was happening we started discussing friends that we’d consider having sex with. We made lists. We were both on each other’s.”
“We were both single at this point and we trusted each other. So we both said, ‘fuck it,’ and I went home with her.”
The sex that night, says David, “was fucking amazing.”
And the next morning? “It was just sex, but it was still wonderful.”
David won’t comment on which of the two girls is better in bed, but admits he’s more than a little pleased with the situation. “I guess it’s dishonest,” he says. “But I know that aside from getting them both in bed at the same time, I’ve got everything a guy could ask for.”
“I know it might fuck up everything in the end,” David says. “But I think I know how to walk the line.”
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