when your best friend becomes the one who breaks you | musing no. 7

he didn’t just lie. he rehearsed it.

This one’s still fresh, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’ve fully processed it yet. What I do know is that I feel deeply hurt—angry, sad, betrayed. A relationship that meant the world to me is likely over, and I need to talk about it.

My best friend—someone I’ve trusted with everything—has also been my right-hand man in my companies. He’s in his 60s, brilliant, gay, and Ivy-League educated. He worked at some of the most prestigious white-shoe law firms in the country. In many ways, he’s been like an older brother to me. But lately, something has felt off. My gut was telling me something—and it turns out, it was right.

A lot of this centers around his much younger partner. To be honest, I’ve privately referred to him using a term from gay subculture—“twink”—not to be cruel, but because it captured how he presents: boyish, hyper-feminine, and dramatically younger in both age and appearance. I recognize that could come off as dismissive to some, so let me be clear—my issue isn’t his age or how he expresses himself. My issue is how he behaves.

I never liked the guy. I once tried to give him a shot—offered him a job—but he couldn’t handle the pressure. He quit without notice, like a child. He’s theatrical, loves to gossip, and in many ways, acts more like a caricature than a grown man. I once said to my friend—half-joking, half-serious—that he somehow found a partner more feminine than most of the women I’ve dated. He didn’t disagree.

But here’s where the real damage happened.

I found out recently that not only was my best friend still talking to my ex-wife behind my back—but so was his partner. His partner. Talking to my ex-wife. About me.

Let that sink in.

This wasn’t just idle suspicion. I had already set canary traps—false details only he knew—and those details came back to me from the wrong sources. I knew someone was talking. Now I knew who.

I confronted him. And his response? It sounded exactly like something my ex-wife would say: “I love you like a brother. I care about you.”

So I told him the truth:

“If this is what your version of love and care feels like, then please stop loving me. Please stop caring. Because all I feel is hurt.”

What kind of partner lets their boyfriend gossip about their supposed best friend behind their back? And more importantly, what kind of person stays silent when it happens? His excuse?

“He’s an adult. I can’t control what he does.”

That’s weak.

You chose him. That says as much about you as it does about him. And the fact that you’re even remotely okay with this behavior makes me feel like I don’t know you anymore.

If the roles were reversed and my girlfriend got a call from someone wanting to talk shit about her best friend, she wouldn’t even entertain it. She’d shut it down immediately and tell her friend. That’s loyalty. That’s respect.

Even when past girlfriends of mine wanted to ask my friend for legal help, they always came to me first to ask: “Is it okay if I reach out to him?”

That’s how trust works. That’s how grown-ups handle boundaries.

But this? Back-channel conversations. No heads-up. No accountability. Just betrayal behind my back.

At 4x, I don’t have time for this anymore. It’s exhausting. It’s toxic. And it’s sad—because I know a friendship just died. A brotherhood I once cherished is gone. But if the price of keeping people around is constant betrayal masked as love, then I’d rather be alone.

I’m done.

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