Fuck the friend zone, that fucker is dead to me

Have you ever wanted to vomit someone out of you? Expel every memory and conversation and purge yourself of everything you thought you knew?

My alleged best friend of more than two years, Cheyne, is a liar. Not just a liar, a pathological cheat, manipulator and deceitful cretin. A pathetic, lame excuse for a man and friend who I have learned overnight has lied to me since the day we met. And why? He uses the word infatuation. I think obsessive creep covers it better.

Over the past 15 hours, his girlfriend and I have been unravelling a web of deceit that extends back years. All spun without hesitation. To what end game we can’t quite tell. But it’s clear that he had zero qualms about lying to me, to her, about everything. I’m finding it difficult to conceive that one person could be so dishonest.

To her: I love you and want to marry you some day.

To me: I don’t see a future with her.

To her: I’m terrified of losing you.

To me: I’d end it with her in a second if it meant I could be with you.

To her: I would never sleep with her while I’m with you.

To me: She said it was ok if we sleep together as long as she doesn’t know.

To her: I want to take a break.

To me: I broke up with her.

To her: I want to be with you.

To me: I don’t want to be with her.

To her: Can you buy me cigarettes? I’ll pay you back.

To me: I don’t smoke.

To her: I started studying years ago but gave it up and never got back to it.

To me: You inspired me to go to uni. I’m studying teaching.

To her: I love this rug! It belongs in my house. Please buy it for me.

To me: I hate that rug she bought me.

To her: I just got all this money back-paid plus a win on the pokies.

To me: Can I borrow $1000?

To her: I don’t have my driver’s licence.

To me: I have my licence I just prefer public transport.

I confronted him this morning, turning up at his house unannounced so he couldn’t pretend to be out or busy. He continued the lies. To my face.

“Show me your uni results, an assessment, something.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t get in to my computer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t get into it. It’s been like that for a few days.”

“So login to uni on your phone?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Because you’re not actually enrolled are you? Because you lied.”

Silence.

“Tell me why you did it, for years. Why did you lie to me?”

“I wanted to be the person I thought you wanted.”

“You’re infatuated, obsessed. Sick. Do you know that? You need help. You’re going to die alone.”

Tears.

“I probably will die alone, yes.”

“Get your phone back out.”

“Why?”

“I want you to transfer the money you owe me, now.”

“I can’t. I don’t have it.”

Snivelling.

“I don’t ever want to hear from you. I don’t ever want to see you. You are not to contact my family. Do you understand?”

More tears.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

I am disgusted. Devastated. Betrayed.

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