When my current friend and ex-lover Martin's friend Sledge came into town for the weekend, I was instantly attracted to him. The three of us plus some other friends tried to get into this Noh theater performance in the park but it was sold out by the time we got there so we all went out for dinner on the Upper West Side instead. In the middle of the main course, I caught Sledge looking at me. Well, not exactly at me. At my breasts. I was not offended, however. I was delighted. I let my knees bump his under the table, and we played footsie for the rest of the meal. On the ride back to his place, I gave him my phone number and the next time he came into the city we took a bath together and he spent the night.
The next morning Martin had plans with him, and Sledge called Martin to tell him to meet him at my place. When Sledge got off the phone with Martin, he shot me a sad look. He said Martin was weirded out that the two of us had hooked up and that he was going to wait for Sledge in the lobby because he couldn't stand to be near both of us at once.
The thing with Sledge lasted maybe three weeks tops. It ended primarily because all Sledge and I ever talked about was how much Martin hated us for hooking up. Our commonality consisted entirely of our guilt about the relationship, so once we'd exhausted the subject of our guilt there was little else to say.
When it was all over, Martin threw a hissy fit. We were walking home from the movies and he said, "What you did with him ...