THE GREAT BETRAYAL, OR

"Never trust a tiny little whitebread Mexican fuck with those little bitch-ass feet & hands who has an unhealthy obssession with big tits."


Nothing stings quite as much as the betrayal of a long-time friend. Notice I wrote “stings” because naturally the betrayal of the one you love is far worse. But when that’s already happened and your so-called “friend” betrays you, it runs a close second.

In case you can’t tell, this has happened to me. I have resisted writing about this for two years because I didn’t really know how to articulate how I felt and I thought he might read what I posted. But that was before I created Redux and, frankly, I couldn’t give less of a fat fickle fuck if he runs across this or not anymore.

The simple fact is someone I thought was a long-time friend sold me out. And he did it for a reason that makes any excuses or reasons entirely moot.

This so-called “friend” has decided to place the person formerly known as EFB either above me or on the same level. I understand that most people have that couple friends mentality, but this is a drastically different situation. When someone knows about the contentious nature of the association and has been friends with one of those involved for a decade or more, common sense and decency would dictate that one would support the friend. It is not expected that one would allow himself to see the other one as a friend in equal standing.

Yet that is precisely what started happening a couple years ago.

Unlike many people, I can pinpoint the exact moment this occurred. It was during a really tumultuous time when finances were in the toilet and I was responsible for much of it through stupid mismanagement. The recovery was quick and sufficient but I shut down emotionally for a little while during the worst of it. (Former) EFB responded by contacting this guy who, for some reason, she thinks really knows me.

During their conversation, if she is to be believed, he said quite a few things about me that weren’t too positive. In fact, they were downright fucking negative! I was shocked and in denial. This guy had been my friend for years and supposedly had my back in this situation. Surely she was lying. No way in hell would he say such things about me. No way would he make her out to be the virtuous crusader considering what he knew about her.

I spent the better part of a year not believing her. It was easier that way. Nobody wants to believe they’ve been sold out unless they’re one of those people that thrive on being proven right every five seconds. Am I right? Am I right?

I even accused her of lying or, at the very least, exaggerating, which she is prone to do. I figured maybe some of the stuff she claimed he’d said was said in an entirely different way to advance her own agenda. That theory made the most sense.

I was a falling man desperately flapping his arms in attempt to miraculously take flight. This was the only friend I had who would have anything to do with her since Dutch went to Texas and I was starting to see why. There was an ulterior motive lurking beneath his friendly façade.

I feel compelled to mention here that this guy is married. You’ll see why a little later.

Getting back to the façade, I no longer felt comfortable being around this motherfucker. I’d confided things in him he could use against me and make my life miserable. I was hurt but a part of me wasn’t surprised. I have a strong objectivity impulse, possibly born from my self-editing skills as a writer combined with being raised by a clinical psychologist. There had always been something about him that wasn’t entirely trustworthy.

He was born in Mexico and moved here when he was eleven years old. His stepfather, a white American, met and fell in love with his mother while working in Mexico and brought her and her three children back to the States. My “friend” didn’t speak any English when he came, so his step-dad insisted he and his siblings be surrounded by nothing but English-speaking people so they could learn ASAP. It worked. All of them speak nearly perfect English now.

Like any fiercely proud Mexican who thinks their culture gives them bragging rights, he spent his time traveling back there as often as possible and fitting in here by being wacky and drinking a lot. People loved him. So did I. He affected a Devil-May-Care attitude while dressing like a young executive in training and we all bought it.

We all grow up. Well, most of us. I’m still waiting for Rudy to do it but give him time. And I’ve heard of that mentality some have that tells us to divest ourselves of friends who aren’t doing us any good emotionally or socially. I am not that guy. If I were, I wouldn’t have helped him obtain his goddam degree in accounting! It was my writing that got him through hi English and history classes. It was my paper on the ethics of cloning that placed as one of the top three essays of that year statewide and caused his English instructor to want to enter him into a contest. Does that sound like someone who is dragging someone down to you?

And what did I get in response? This sorry sack of shit told me he’d always thought I was basically a hack or a wanna-be until he realized how good my papers were. Never mind he’d never actually read any of my work because I don't write fucking math books.

In the time since he graduated, he has become arrogant, smug and an all-around pretentious son of a bitch. Suddenly he’d made what he considered to be well-off friends and it was all going to his head.

I don’t’ stomach insufferable people easily. As regular readers know, I don’t believe anyone is superior to anyone else regardless of their accomplishments. (Former) EFB’s concept of deserved arrogance for the successful is not a belief I share. And especially not when I remember when your sorry ass came from.

So, to make a long story a little longer, I started keeping him at a safe distance. Ironically, I started preferring his wife, but not enough to want to hang out with them anymore. For the most part I’ve stuck to that stance, probably only seeing them four or five times in the past year and a half. The more I thought about what EFB had said, the more I realized he most likely did say those things. What better way to complete one’s journey to the fake side than by destroying and discrediting the person who knows you for what you are and helped get you there?

But there’s more to the story; isn’t’ there always? The other night I decided to give into (Former) EFB’s repeated entreaties to go to dinner with them. I didn’t want to but he’d been sending text messages to her lately of, shall we say, a questionable nature. Repeated usage of the words “babe” and “honey” while making suggestive semi-jokes. His wife and I text on occasion and I have never done that and she’s also an attractive woman.

I had to go out with them that night because I had a pretty good idea what was going on, as I’m sure do you. It only took a few minutes for me to see it. He’s in love with her. Or he thinks he is, which is the same thing for all intents and purposes. He spent the whole night calling her “babe” and stroking her hair and giving her the cow-eyes while telling her how her age didn’t matter because of how hot she is. Meanwhile his wife sat next to me and looked at him with one of the most uncomfortable facial expressions I’ve ever seen.

Naturally, The E that was FB denied this in the beginning. But she couldn’t once I advanced my theory: I told her that when she called him that day two years ago all distraught and in distress, it sparked off an interest in him that had lain dormant until that moment. We already knew he was obsessed with her ample bosom and a guy with his immature outlook on sexuality would automatically start placing the two into some weird love-lust combo.

So I got sold out over a woman. I’ve seen movies and TV shows and read books like this. I’ve ever heard stories from other guys, but not once has this ever happened to me. So of course he was confronted about it. Not recently but a few months before I confirmed his feelings. He was not pleased and, in fact, started referring to me as his nemesis; one of those fancy words he probably picked up from one of his too-cool friends.

He hasn’t seen me in nemesis mode yet. Why do you think I still hung out with his useless ass? I gave up on revenge when I converted to Buddhism years ago, but I still believing in keeping one’s enemies close. The day will come when he is useful and I plan to keep him around for it.

As I stated earlier, I’m no longer hurt by this. He’s become someone unrecognizable to me in recent years and perhaps I have to him as well. He is a stranger wearing a vaguely familiar face who thought nothing of stabbing me in the back.

Whatever happens to him is what he deserves. I plan to be around to see it when it happens. And if it needs a little push from me, who am I to stand in the way of a divine reckoning?