That night, as we crammed our bodies into her single bed, she turned to me and asked what I thought about the social media change.
"But it's, like... a joke, right?" I asked.
"What if it wasn't?" she said, "We could try an open relationship." My heart hit an iceberg, split in half, and sank. (Sorry -- I just rewatched Titanic.)
"You want to date other people?" I asked.
"We would have rules. Like, no falling in love."
"Just fooling around?"
"And sex." She added the word sharply, like she'd been waiting for hours to put that out there. I didn't say anything for a few seconds. So she jabbed me and repeated herself.
"And... sex, I guess."
Could you have guessed it was a disaster? After getting over the feelings of nausea every time she called to talk about her sexual exploits with men, I found myself in the beds of numerous other women for the sole purpose of revenge. We had a special text that we would send each other whenever we'd be "out" with other people: elsewhere.