Falling for My Boyfriend's Best Friend
1.1k Views · Ongoing · Noah
My boyfriend was pretending to be poor.
I figured it out not long after we started dating. He would throw away body wash bottles the second the pump stopped working, and he dumped out the gray water I’d been saving to flush the toilet. When I caught him, he gave me this perfectly innocent look. "Aren't you just supposed to pour dirty water down the drain?"
We’d pass a street food cart selling those cheap processed sausages—three bucks for one, five for two. He’d squeeze my hand and say, "Look, babe, we're saving a whole dollar." He played the part of the thrifty boyfriend flawlessly.
I never called him out on it. Mostly because I was sitting on a secret of my own—one I had no intention of sharing.
That was, until I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him texting his buddy in the dark.
His friend had sent: Girls like her are just for fun. Let me test her out for you. I flash a little cash, and she'll come crawling.
He stared at the screen, hesitating for what felt like forever. Finally, he typed a single word: Yeah.
I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
The very next day, his rich little buddy strolled into the coffee shop where I worked. He slid a sleek bank card across the counter. "There’s thirty grand on this," he said. "Consider yourself bought."
Rich people always love testing the moral fiber of the poor.
But who made the rule that they're the only ones allowed to give the test?
I figured it out not long after we started dating. He would throw away body wash bottles the second the pump stopped working, and he dumped out the gray water I’d been saving to flush the toilet. When I caught him, he gave me this perfectly innocent look. "Aren't you just supposed to pour dirty water down the drain?"
We’d pass a street food cart selling those cheap processed sausages—three bucks for one, five for two. He’d squeeze my hand and say, "Look, babe, we're saving a whole dollar." He played the part of the thrifty boyfriend flawlessly.
I never called him out on it. Mostly because I was sitting on a secret of my own—one I had no intention of sharing.
That was, until I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him texting his buddy in the dark.
His friend had sent: Girls like her are just for fun. Let me test her out for you. I flash a little cash, and she'll come crawling.
He stared at the screen, hesitating for what felt like forever. Finally, he typed a single word: Yeah.
I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
The very next day, his rich little buddy strolled into the coffee shop where I worked. He slid a sleek bank card across the counter. "There’s thirty grand on this," he said. "Consider yourself bought."
Rich people always love testing the moral fiber of the poor.
But who made the rule that they're the only ones allowed to give the test?
