Kind Guy & Hot Friend

When I was 22, I had a little incident on a hike. Now, before you start imagining me clinging to the side of a cliff like Bear Grylls — calm down. It was nothing heroic. Just your garden-variety detour-off-the-main-path scenario, which ended with me having an overly intimate encounter with a boulder. Yes, a boulder. It was giving “surprise plot twist” energy, and I lost — face first.

Anyway, I emerged largely unscathed (save for some gnarly scratches on my face and a chest that felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a kangaroo). But the universe, in all its chaotic glory, decided that this would be the perfect moment to introduce me to him.

Let’s call him Kind Guy. He was one of those softly-spoken, “Are you cold? Here’s my jacket” types. The sort of bloke you picture pushing a pram with a baby strapped to his chest, buying oat milk and saying things like “We really should compost more.” In short: proper husband material.

We met at a uni club night — as all timeless romances do — and he was instantly taken by me. I, on the other hand, was trying to remember if I’d packed plasters in my handbag.

“Didn’t you notice the gashes on my face?” I asked, thinking he’d reply with something sensible like “Yeah, are you okay?” Instead, he hit me with, “All I could see was a beautiful face.”

Reader, I melted... for about three seconds. Because while Kind Guy was lovely — sincere, attentive, with the emotional depth of someone who owns plants and waters them regularly — my heart had tragically latched onto someone else: his best mate.

Let’s call him... Hot Friend. And by hot, I mean the kind of guy that makes you forget how to spell your own name. Did he ever look my way in class? Rarely. Did I stare at him like a woman possessed? Absolutely. It was irrational, intense, and utterly doomed — as all the best crushes are.

Despite my heart doing somersaults for Hot Friend, I decided to give Kind Guy a chance. We hung out. We had “dates” (mostly wandering aimlessly through uni halls or eating supermarket pizza). I really tried to fancy him. Truly. But alas, the chemistry was more flat Coke than fizzy Prosecco.

Then came The Pimple Incident.

Kind Guy invited me over for what was meant to be a cosy date night. I arrived — and there it was. A massive, unapologetic, angry-looking whitehead staring at me from the middle of his forehead like a third eye. I know, I know — we’re all human. But come on. He knew I was coming. Couldn’t he have just... popped it? Or slapped a plaster on it? Or put a hat on?

My shallow little heart got the instant ick. From that moment on, I was dodging his affection like a contestant on “Ninja Warrior: Romantic Edition.”

Eventually, at a party, I decided enough was enough. I pulled him aside, led him to my car like I was about to drop some spy-level intel, and broke the news. He took it surprisingly well. Probably because there hadn’t been much to break — we were all vibes and no fire.

Now here’s where it gets messy.

Despite Hot Friend being in a very long-term relationship (complete with “we’re basically married” energy), we ended up fooling around. Once. Okay, twice. And yes, it was reckless and morally grey and a thousand other things I won’t defend. But feelings make fools of us all.

Naturally, his girlfriend found out. Naturally, he blamed the whole thing on me. Claimed I’d come onto him. Told all his friends I was some siren of seduction. The friend group turned colder than a student flat in January. I was iced out faster than a forgotten tub of Ben & Jerry’s.

And Kind Guy? The one I technically wronged the least? Vanished. I mean, fair enough. But still — ouch.

To this day, my mum refers to Kind Guy as “the one that got away.” She’s adamant that if it weren’t for my unhinged obsession with Hot Friend, I’d be living in suburban bliss with Kind Guy, baking banana bread and doing school runs.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe not.

What I do know is this: life has a funny way of teaching you who you should want, right when you're too distracted by who you do want.

And sometimes, the universe throws you a boulder to the face before it throws you a lesson to the heart.