NOT WORTHY TO BE CALLED A FRIEND

I grew up in a very strict home where my dad was highly principled. We weren’t allowed to have boyfriends until we were “ripe for marriage,” as my father would say.

My mother gave birth to just three girls—the rest were boys—and I was the last born. I wasn’t really close to my sisters because the age gap was too big.

My parents didn’t know my sisters had secret boyfriends, but I knew—because I was smart and observant. I knew how they sneaked out of the house to visit them, but I kept quiet because they always bribed me with goodies and would say, “You’ll understand when you become an adult.”

Fast forward to when I turned 18: I finally decided to start keeping friends. One day, I had to help my friend on an errand to the market for her mum, which I have always done or I could say most times because she was really sick and couldn’t go. While in the market I met a guy who helped me with a section I was struggling with. We exchanged contacts and started talking and chatting. It got to the point where we began making midnight calls, but I was really careful so my parents wouldn’t know I was talking to a guy.

Eventually, he asked me out. I accepted because he was very attractive and sweet. But I made one thing clear: I didn’t want to get intimate with him until marriage. He agreed, even though it wasn’t really okay with him—but he respected my decision.

I told my friend about him—the same friend I literally did almost everything for—and she asked if I was sure about him or if she should do a background check. I agreed, because I wanted to know more about him. Some days later, she came back and told me the guy was a bad person, that his father was a ritualist, and that I should stay away. But I was reluctant, because by then, I was already in love with him.

One faithful day, he asked me to visit. I was scared because of everything my friend had told me, so I asked her to accompany me to his house—just so he wouldn’t take advantage of me. But when we got there, her attitude changed. She was suddenly all over him, while I stayed reserved and kept my distance. After the visit, we left his place.

I noticed that after that visit, he kept talking about sex, and I wasn’t open to those kinds of conversations. It irritated me. At the same time, my friend started feeding me bad narratives about him.

Then I found out she had collected his number from my phone and had been chatting and talking to my boyfriend behind my back, telling him all sorts of things I wasn’t doing—without my knowledge.

Weeks passed, and I finally decided to visit him after he had invited me countless times. I had been scared of what I might find, so I hadn’t gone. But this time, I decided to surprise him—I didn’t even call.

When I got there, I knocked on the door for about three minutes before he finally opened it. As I entered the room, I immediately began to smell the perfume I had bought for my friend. When I asked him about it, he said it was his new collection. I believed him.

We started talking, but his attention was divided, and he seemed uncomfortable. About an hour later, the smell from the toilet became so strong that someone inside couldn’t bear it anymore—my friend came out, half-naked, from my boyfriend’s room.

I demanded an explanation.

She quickly said, “I came to give him what you couldn’t give him as a girlfriend.” By that, she meant sex.

I was shocked and confused. I literally froze. When I finally found my voice, I asked how long it had been going on. He said, “Over two weeks.”

I was in complete shock.

It turned out she had been visiting him since the last time we went together. I told her, “He doesn’t love you—he’s just using you.” Then I turned to him and said, “If you love her, kiss her.”

Guess what?

He did kiss her—not just a peck, but a deep and romantic kiss.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I left with the last bit of self-respect I had in me. That was the end of our friendship.

I blocked both of them, and we haven’t spoken since. Even when we see each other, we just walk past without saying a word. And no—I can never feel bad for that “friend”. She’s not worthy of being called one. Thanks for stopping by my blog. See you soon. 🤗

peace out ✌️