You people are still going on at me about me having a fling with my friend’s ex. Lol. I’m pulling the big guns out. I’m going deeper. You guys, perfectly fine with me wearing a wedding ring on stream, but this, this is what you get hung up on. This is the last time I’m going to hit this, ladies, so listen up.
Your Friend’s Ex Is Not Your Friend’s Property!
Let’s get something straight. Once a relationship ends, that person is no longer anyone’s property. They don’t come with a lifetime “do not touch” label just because someone else dated them first. The idea that your friend gets permanent dibs on an ex, even years later, is weird when you actually say it out loud.
We act like there’s this sacred rule that says if your friend dated someone, that person becomes off-limits to you forever. But why? What exactly are we protecting here? It’s not like the relationship is still happening. It’s over. They broke up. They moved on. So why does that ex still belong to them in some unspoken way?
A lot of this “girl code” around exes comes from a place of possessiveness dressed up as loyalty. We tell ourselves we’re being good friends by staying away, when sometimes we’re actually just respecting an invisible claim that was never really agreed on. Your friend doesn’t own that person’s future dating life. They don’t own their dick or their mouth or their time. They had a relationship, it ended, and now that person is just, a person again.
I’m not saying there’s never any awkwardness or that feelings can’t get hurt. Of course they can. But there’s a difference between “this might be uncomfortable” and “this is morally wrong and I’m a bad friend if I do it.” One is a feeling. The other is a made-up rule that mostly serves to control who women are allowed to want.
People change. Relationships end. Adults are allowed to make their own decisions about who they get involved with. If someone is single, interested, and both people are consenting, the fact that your friend dated them one year or twenty ago doesn’t actually give them veto power over that person’s sex life. That’s not loyalty. That’s just old emotional territory that hasn’t been let go of.
The truth is, some of us are still walking around acting like exes are sacred ground. Like touching one would be some kind of betrayal. But betrayal of what, exactly? A relationship that no longer exists? A claim that was never permanent in the first place?
Your friend’s ex is not your friend’s property. They’re a grown adult who gets to decide who they sleep with. And so do you. The second we stop treating exes like they’re still owned by the person who dated them, a lot of this unnecessary guilt starts to fall away
There, I said it.
I know that’s the kind of thing that’s supposed to make people clutch their pearls and start talking about “girl code” and loyalty and all the rest of it. But I’ve sat with it, and I still don’t feel bad. Not even a little bit.
We weren’t friends any more by the time it happened anyway. Not properly. The friendship had already faded, the way a lot of them do after your early twenties. And her and him had been broken up for a while. Long enough that she was seeing someone else and seemed happy. So when it happened between me and him, it didn’t feel like I was sneaking around behind her back. It just felt like two single adults who’d always had a bit of chemistry finally doing something about it.
I used to think I’d feel guilty if I ever did something like this. I really did. I’d heard all the same stories, how it destroys friendships, how it’s a betrayal, how you’re supposed to stay away forever out of respect. But when it actually happened, the guilt just… never showed up. I kept waiting for it. It didn’t come.
Because here’s the thing: he wasn’t hers any more. He hadn’t been for a long time. And I’m not the kind of person who believes that just because someone dated your friend once, they become permanently off-limits to everyone else in that friend group. That’s not loyalty. That’s ownership dressed up as friendship.
I liked him. He liked me. We were both single. We had good sex. That’s really all there was to it. I didn’t do it to hurt her. I didn’t do it to prove a point. I did it because I wanted to, and because there wasn’t actually a good reason not to.
I know some people will read this and think I’m a bad friend. That’s fine. I’d rather be honest about what I’ve done than walk around pretending I follow rules I don’t actually believe in. If sleeping with someone my friend used to date makes me a bad person in some people’s eyes, then I guess I’m a bad person. But I’m not losing any sleep over it.
At the end of the day, I have to live with my own choices. And this one? I’m good with it. I don’t feel like I betrayed anyone. I don’t feel like I crossed some sacred line. I just had sex with someone I was attracted to. That’s it.
And honestly? I’d probably do it again.
I know that’s not the kind of question we’re supposed to ask out loud. We’re meant to treat someone’s ex like they’re radioactive, untouchable, no matter how long it’s been or how single everyone is now. But what if the sex is actually good? What if it’s the kind of sex that makes your legs shake and your brain go quiet for a bit? Are we really supposed to walk away from that just because of some unspoken rule?
I’ve seen so many women talk themselves out of something they clearly want because “it’s my friend’s ex.” Like that one fact overrides everything else, chemistry, attraction, timing, even basic adult decision-making. As if once someone has dated your mate, they’re permanently off the menu, no matter how good they might be at making you come.
It’s such a strange rule when you actually think about it. We don’t apply it to anything else. Your friend doesn’t get to claim permanent ownership over a restaurant just because she took you there once. She doesn’t get to ban you from a certain type of wine or a holiday destination. But when it comes to a person, a whole grown adult with their own desires and free will, suddenly there’s this invisible line we’re all expected to respect forever.
And for what? So everyone can keep pretending that loyalty means restricting your own pleasure? So no one has to feel slightly awkward at a group thing? It starts to feel less like protecting a friendship and more like self-sabotage dressed up as being a good mate.
I’m not saying you should go out of your way to cause drama. But I am saying that if the only thing stopping you from sleeping with someone is “but my friend dated him,” then maybe it’s worth asking yourself whose rules you’re actually following. Because it’s probably not yours.
Sometimes the sex is just really fucking good. And sometimes that’s reason enough.
Some of the best sex I’ve ever had has happened in the grey areas. The messy ones. The ones that aren’t clean or simple or easy to explain. The kind of sex that happens when you probably shouldn’t be doing it, but you do it anyway because the pull is too strong.
There’s something about those situations that makes everything feel more intense. The secrecy. The risk. The fact that it’s slightly wrong. It adds this extra layer of charge that you don’t always get when everything is straightforward and above board. When you’re with someone you’re not supposed to be with, whether that’s because they’re your friend’s ex, or because you’re both seeing other people, or because it’s just complicated, the sex often hits different. It feels more urgent. More alive. Like your body knows it’s doing something it’s not really allowed to do.
I’ve had sex in proper relationships that was fine. Comfortable. Nice, even. But the sex that’s made me lose my mind, the kind that leaves me shaking afterwards, has almost always happened in the grey areas. When there’s tension. When there’s history. When there’s a reason it feels a bit dangerous. That’s when everything gets sharper, the want, the need, the way your body responds.
There’s a specific kind of thrill that comes with knowing you’re crossing a line. Even if it’s just a small one. Even if no one would ever find out. The knowledge that what you’re doing is messy, or selfish, or slightly fucked up, can make the sex feel electric in a way that clean, uncomplicated sex rarely does. It’s not always healthy, and it’s not always smart, but it’s often where the real heat lives.
I’ve fucked people I definitely wasn’t supposed to fuck. I’ve had sex while I was seeing someone else. I’ve had sex with people who were seeing someone else. And more times than not, those have been the encounters that stayed with me. The ones that made my whole body light up. The ones where I felt completely present and completely gone at the same time.
I’m not saying you should go out looking for drama or hurt people on purpose. But I am saying that some of the best sex happens in the spaces we’re told to avoid. The grey areas. The complicated ones. The ones that don’t fit neatly into any rules.
Sometimes the hottest thing isn’t doing the right thing. It’s doing the thing you want, even when you know you probably shouldn’t. Don’t waste your life. If you want something, take it.