How to Be a Terrible Friend (but an ok human)

On November 28th, 2019, a girl told me she was sexually assaulted by my close friend. She narrated the incident in 40 minutes.

Short story: I immediately sent him a message, blocked him everywhere and never spoke to him again. Well, that’s a lie I’ll get to in a while.

He was one of the most compassionate, generous, gentle, and caring souls I ever knew. He was the only guy who got along with my entire female friend group (which is saying a lot). He was the rare friend who always cared for me, more than I cared for him. Something that haunts me to this day: I owe him.

It sounds narcissistic to assume someone would take their life over a platonic breakup with me and a friend, but for the next few days — I genuinely feared that.

Coming back to the message — I told him that I hoped it wasn’t true, but I don’t want his side of the story or to ever talk to him again. He had always been nice to me — and I am praying for him.
That summed up our friendship.

Later on, I had a couple of people tell me I should’ve at least heard his side. I disagree. I am aware I’ll always be biased towards him due to the inevitable fact he was my close friend. However, the perpetrators are always someone’s loved one. The last thing I want is for someone to cry and plead with me to believe them. I can never have proof of what happened that night. Neither is anyone answerable to me.

Someone once told me, we can either end a relationship, or invalidate someone’s trauma. I chose the former to sleep easier at night. It’s 3 AM and I’m still sleepless.

I chose to be the world’s worst best friend knowing that this was not something I could ever come back from. Knowing that if I didn’t — I could never live with myself. I would feel guilt and anguish every time I’d look at him. I feel that, nevertheless.

Every time I’d pass him in the hallway, he’d say hi and I’d breakdown afterwards. He emailed me on my birthday with no mention of the incident; just warm regards and two ebooks he thought I’d like. He was right. I cried and thanked him. I still don’t understand why after everything, he is still good to me. Why.

I know I did the right thing. I would do it all over again. A million times.
But I truly do miss him.

(Revisiting this: I wish I held on to the same conviction and strength of heart)

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