I was in a major online dating slump and my dates bored me. I didn’t have the time or energy to go out of my way to find a decent guy to go out or hook up with and one of my guy roommates was starting to feel the same way. We soon realized that the answer to our swiping dilemma was each other.
We lived in the same house. We were roommates sharing a house with several other close friends. We saw each other on a daily basis, either just chillin’ at home or grabbing some dinner or drinks on the weekend. It was the height of convenience having my FWB’s bedroom across the house from my own. It basically eliminated the question of “your place or mine?”
We were already really good friends. We met in college, had a few classes together, and even worked together for a while. We became really good friends even before we were roommates. Living together was chill and stress-free (other than deciding who’s turn it was to take out the trash). We’d never fought or argued and always respected each other. We’d been there for each other going through breakups and stressful projects at work. Basically, there were already solid grounds for intimacy.
We were both sick of online dating. I didn’t want to hook up with random guys anymore, but I wasn’t exactly ready to launch into a full-blown relationship with the next decent guy I met. I figured that a friends-with-benefits situation would be perfect for me, although the struggle of finding a new “friend” seemed too bothersome. When my roommate expressed the same frustration with Tinder that I’d developed, we seemed to mutually resolve ourselves to drop it altogether when we could have a good thing going for us, no swiping required.
It was fun keeping a secret from our other roommates. One of the most exciting parts was keeping it from the rest of our roommates. It was exhilarating to tiptoe across the house and slip into his bedroom in the late hours of the evening, hoping not to cross paths with anyone. Even more thrilling were the day-time romps when other roommates were home and he’d have to peek out the door to make sure no one was nearby. It was fun to walk around the house, going about my business like nothing incredibly hot and heavy just happened.
It wasn’t that hard to meet up at 2 a.m. Whether it be boredom, needing a study break, or the inability to fall asleep, that booty call in the wee hours of the morning was much more welcome than the typical 2 a.m. texts. No need to slip on some decent clothes, put shoes on, or drive across town. Going down the hallway, already braless (cause home is where the bra comes off), and knocking on his door made the convenience of it all feel way more sexy and scandalous than any random hookup.
We were comfortable with each other. Like I said, we were really good friends. Somehow we’d gotten into the habit of calling each other “bro” like we were best buds. But in all honesty, we were! Other than my best girl friend, he was next in line for me to spill all of my problems, worries, hopes and dreams to.
I didn’t care what I looked like around him. Living together, I couldn’t care less if he saw me in my sleep tee and smeared mascara on day three without a hair wash. I didn’t have to shave before we slept together. It didn’t matter if I was wearing my granny panties; those were coming off anyway!
We had such a great time. The sex was really good. It’s amazing when you start looking at a friend differently and realize how attractive you find them. We were comfortable to ask for what we wanted in bed. He gave me the attention I desired in all the right places. We could have a great sweat session then laugh and be silly right after.
We could tell each other anything. I would be lying if I said our FWB situation was completely without complication. Being such great friends, there were definitely times I questioned whether we might be good for each other in a romantic relationship. After a few weeks of being FWB, I had to admit to him that I’d had feelings for him in the past and I still might. At first he laughed about it jokingly, but when he saw I was serious, he was clear with me that he didn’t want to date and possibly ruin our great friendship. At first I was hurt, but I could understand it, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had either.
We cared about each other. We were each other’s best friend and we cared about each other. Being in a romantic, committed relationship doesn’t have to be the only relationship in which you can have wonderful sex with someone you care about. We wanted the best for each other, so when he moved away to be closer to his family and start his career, I couldn’t have been happier for him. We’re still friends and catch up every now and then. Although it was short, it’s fun to think back on the time I had a best-friend-with-benefits.
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