I’m torn between two possible stories for this. But in the one not chosen, the other person was only aware of a small part of the embarrassment, and the vast majority was internal and known only to me. In this one, I don’t know that embarrassment was the intention, but I walked away feeling like the biggest fool on the planet, and I wasn’t even trying to impress anyone.
Two years ago, my friend Emma and her long-distance boyfriend decided to move in with each other, in a small town nestled in the mountains, about three hours drive north of Los Angeles. Always wanting to be a good friend, I volunteered to help out with the move, especially considering neither of them had a vehicle.
So the plan was that Emma and I would pack my car with her stuff, and I’d drive us up to Pinewood. We’d meet Lucas there (he was driving in from a smaller city), offload, then I’d drive back to Los Angeles, alone this time, fill the car up with the rest of Emma’s stuff, and head back to Pinewood. While I was gone, Emma and Lucas would move the first round of stuff in and begin getting settled in.
So we got there, met with Lucas, offloaded to the parking area, and I headed back on the 6-hour round trip.
When I arrived in Pinewood the second time, barely anything had been moved at all, and boxes were still stacked exactly as I had left them. I headed into the apartment and walked in on them being intimate on the couch. Emma apologized and claimed they had gotten “distracted,” which I could totally empathize with because they had been long-distance for so long, and this was their first time alone together in person in forever. No problem!
It was late in the day at that point, so we decided to get to work moving everything from the lot and from Lucas’s U-Haul. They helped for a bit, moved some furniture and boxes in. And then Lucas said they were going to start putting things away in the apartment to clear up space to bring more in. So they started on that while I continued carrying stuff up the stairs to their place. But when I arrived back in the apartment after a few trips, they were in the bedroom, door closed, and I could hear, in very clear detail, that they’d stopped working on the move.
Being the socially awkward person that I am, I didn’t know how to proceed and I didn’t want to interrupt them. So I just continued moving stuff in. Eventually, I finished moving Emma’s belongings inside, and they were still occupied. So I started working on moving Lucas’s stuff in from the U-Haul. While Lucas was in his bedroom, with a girl so far out of my league that I didn’t even look at her romantically, audibly enjoying himself.
When I finished with Lucas’s belongings, having nothing to do and no one to talk to, I started packing things away inside and setting up the apartment properly, like a good helper. At some point during this, I guess they finished, because I could now hear them watching something on the TV, and the bed had stopped creaking. But they still didn’t come out. Like not even to check on the progress. As if this was my expected behavior, to just do their work while they fooled around with each other.
At this point, with what little dignity I had remaining, I was annoyed with them both. I lay on the couch, thinking about what I’d say to them in the morning, how I’d tell them off for taking advantage of my desire to help a friend. And that lasted until Emma finally came out and completely, unintentionally destroyed me. She came out to get a glass of water, saw all the work was completed, and started gushing about me being “the best friend ever,” and how she wished “I had more guys like you in my life.” That was the word she used. ‘Guy.’ Not man or friend. Guy. The last nail in the coffin of my self-respect. I thought all night about that word.
To make things even worse, neither of them ever paid me back for the gas for 12 hours of driving, somewhere in the range of $200.
So basically, I paid $200 to be taken advantage of by a friend I wasn’t even trying to impress. And spent the day moving her into her boyfriend’s apartment while she spent the day with her boyfriend. And then the next morning, I drove three hours alone, back to my empty apartment in Los Angeles, with one less of my already very few friends left in the city. It took me a few weeks to recover from that.
I’m over it now, no hard feelings; they didn’t mean to cause me any embarrassment. But still, the only reason Emma and I ever talk anymore is when she calls me to complain about Lucas. Or to ask for money. And I usually help her out. I don’t know if that makes me a good friend or a total fool.
Like I mentioned before, I’m really into power dynamics and control. All types of it are so intriguing to me, but the most compelling has always been the subtle, natural things that could be part of a normal day. Porn has a tendency to exaggerate everything to its extremes. Power play is always shown as this over-the-top, borderline insane level of control during some crazy scenario where the submissive has no choice but to obey or face huge consequences.
And I still find that intriguing, but it’s just a fantasy, a show. It’s just porn. In real life, things are less black and white and more gray. If the sub absolutely cannot refuse, it doesn’t feel like real power play to me. It’s more like ownership at that point. But in a situation where the sub could refuse but chooses not to, that’s real dominance. The implicit understanding between all parties that this is the way it should be. That it’s the natural role of one side to dominate and the other side to submit.
That’s exactly how I felt during that move. I could have refused or spoken up for myself or done something to spare my dignity. But instead, without even the need for a sexual framing of things, I chose to do as instructed and continue the labor. And despite my frustration in the moment, I chose not to seek fairness or respect. Instead, I let them continue to enjoy each other because I didn’t want to interrupt. And it’s not like it was a mutual respect thing. Emma and Lucas looked at me after 8 hours of work on their behalf and consciously or subconsciously decided that I should bear more of the load for them. And without a word of complaint or objection, I got back to work. I wasn’t turned on; I didn’t find it sexy. It was just the natural, implicit agreement of all the parties involved. At least reflecting back on it, that’s the only way I see it anymore.
It was like a real-life cuckold scenario, but from the cuck’s perspective. Out of sight, out of mind, nothing to gain, still obedient.