My Girlfriend Forced An Open Relationship — So I Started Sleeping With Her Best Friend

Part 1

The fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

I stared at the woman sitting across from me, the woman I had been covertly ring-shopping for just three hours earlier.

She had just casually suggested we open our relationship.

Brenda did not look nervous or conflicted about this proposal.

She looked eager, her eyes shining with an uncomfortable intensity over our Tuesday night dinner.

My appetite vanished instantly.

I set the fork down carefully against the edge of the plate.

We had been together for three years and had shared an apartment for two.

Our routines were comfortable and deeply woven together, from Sunday morning pancakes to walking through the park after work.

My parents adored her, and her father invited me to football games every season.

I asked her if there was someone specific she wanted to date.

Brenda became defensive immediately.

Waving her hand dismissively, she claimed it was just about exploring ourselves before we got too old.

My girlfriend leaned across the table and took my hand.

The words tumbled from her mouth, insisting she loved me and that this would make our connection stronger.

I pulled my hand back, my mind spinning between confusion and rising panic.

I knew this was not a discussion.

The desperate desire for approval in her eyes told me she had already made her decision.

Saying no would only close a door she was determined to walk through anyway.

I nodded slowly and agreed to try it.

A bright smile spread across her face.

She immediately started talking about setting up dating app profiles and establishing rules for notifying each other.

I sat there in silence, wondering exactly how long she had been planning this.

That night, she cuddled against my shoulder on the couch like nothing had changed.

I laid awake long after she fell asleep, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what I had done wrong.

The chaos started the very next day.

Brenda practically begged me to help her pick out photos for her dating profiles.

I forced a tight smile and pointed out the ones where she looked best.

She received three matches within her first week.

She shoved her phone in my face to show off a personal trainer she was meeting for coffee.

I nodded and pretended this was a completely normal conversation for a committed couple.

My stomach churned constantly.

When she got dressed for her first date, she wore a black dress I had never seen before.

She spent an hour on her makeup before twirling in front of the bedroom mirror.

I told her she looked great, knowing that dress cost more than our usual date nights.

She came home late that night, laughing quietly to herself.

Feigning sleep, I kept my back turned.

For another hour, the tapping of her screen echoed in the dark.

By the second week, her schedule was completely packed.

Monday was coffee with the gym guy.

Wednesday was dinner with a lawyer, and Friday was drinks with a food truck owner.

She always came home looking vibrant and thrilled with her life.

Meanwhile, the distance between us at home grew into a massive void.

Cuddling on the couch became a distant memory.

Her thumbs flew across her phone screen constantly during our Sunday pancake ritual.

I finally asked her if she thought she was going on too many dates.

Brenda looked at me like I was being completely irrational.

Meeting new people, she reminded me, was the entire point of an open relationship.

The offer to help me set up a profile followed, completely ignoring how miserable I felt sitting at home.

I declined, realizing she simply did not understand my pain.

She enjoyed having me wait around like a loyal backup plan while she lived her best life.

The realization hit me hard.

I stopped waiting for her to wake up and realize what she was throwing away.

I started taking long walks just to clear my head and escape the empty apartment.

That was when her best friend started coming around more often.

Megan had been Brenda’s closest friend since college.

She was the kind of person who brought soup when we were sick and genuinely listened when people spoke.

She showed up one evening to borrow some mixing bowls while Brenda was out on yet another date.

Megan took one look at my face and asked what was wrong.

I ended up telling her everything about the open relationship and how Brenda was treating me.

Megan sat beside me on the couch and listened intently.

She shook her head and called out Brenda’s behavior for what it was.

She told me it was incredibly selfish and completely unfair to me.

Hearing someone else validate my reality made me feel a little less insane.

Megan started visiting more frequently after that night.

We ordered takeout, watched movies, and just talked for hours.

Having someone who actually cared about my feelings was a stark contrast to Brenda’s neglect.

One night, Megan sat twisting a ring on her finger, looking deeply conflicted.

She took a deep breath and told me she had harbored feelings for me for years.

I sat there in stunned silence, processing her confession.

She admitted it was killing her to watch Brenda treat me so poorly.

I looked into her eyes and leaned in to kiss her.

A few weeks later, Brenda suddenly decided she wanted to close our relationship.

She sat me down, completely oblivious to my new distance, and told me we should focus on us again.

I coldly informed her that I had been seeing someone else and was no longer interested in waiting around.

Then she asked me who I was sleeping with, and I knew my answer was going to destroy her.