She had asked me if it was alright that her brother's friend crashed at her place after a concert he was driving in from out of town to see. My antenna was instantly up, but then again, I'm not exclusive with her and she's not with me, so what the fuck, why not? If she can do better than me, she fuck well should do better than me. Fish gotta swim, after all, 'cuz that's what fish do.

"Sure. Cancel, or your place, or my place, doesn't matter." We already had plans for that night at her place, so I left things up to her. Some of you will say that's a mistake -- but you are incorrect. Her choice was her communication, whether or not she wanted to create an opportunity with the dude, or if she was shit-testing, or jealousy-testing, or whatever swimmy-little-fish-fish maneuver she wanted to pull. I remained unaffected.

She said, no, no, she didn't want to cancel, she just wanted to see if it was okay they were over. Maybe she didn't even know what she wanted to do up until my response; this particular woman is long on brains but short on self-awareness. Fine, whatever, I know that she generally wants me more than I want her, so she wouldn't be eliminating the possibility of a physical interaction. But even if she did, so what? If I'm not having fun I just leave, she knows that. She's free to do the same, but for some reason never has... hmm. Wonder why that is?

Anyways, night goes as I expect, dinner in, then fun stuff, then Netflix, then dessert. A few more shit tests than usual, it's noticeable. I have to overtly call her on one, usually I can just let them pass and ignoring them is good enough. I decided an open discussion regarding the topic was best -- like I said, very intelligent, just doesn't know herself.

"Which week is it of your cycle?" -- (When she did the math it was day 12.) -- I said, "It's weird, most women get irritable when they are pre-menstrual, but you should be ovulating and you're being a bitch." -- She let the 'bitch' comment slide while she thought about it.

Of course I know why she's this way, she's fitness testing me to see if I'm worthy of mating her at her most fertile. Fish gotta swim, but only with manly fish that have good sperm and make good baby fishies (even if that possibility is only theoretical). She toned down the bitchiness after that.

Around midnight the brother's friends (who she has known for the better part of a decade) show up. The one is a couple inches shorter than me with red hair (ouch, double whammy) and the other is a couple inches taller and has a built body, but a face and mannerisms of McLovin from Superbad. Both like obscure bands, have nerdy jobs and degrees, and nobody tries to AMOG or openly hit on my girl. If ginger ever had a shot, he has had about ten years to plan it, go ahead dude, take your shot. Tall, dark and ugly was having a hard time looking up from his own shoes, honestly I felt bad for him. I didn't sense any level of competition from these guys.

The drinks we'd been having had gone to my head by then, and obviously I wasn't going to drive under those circumstances. I hung out long enough to be polite, but then went and crashed in her bed. That's a mistake, you all say. She could have been doing anything with them while I was sleeping. Wrong, I say. She can do what she wants, she's an adult. Unless they were raping her, which she didn't seem concerned about as a possibility, none of it was my business, so why shouldn't I sleep?

Two hours later she came in and woke me up, presumably so that I knew when she came to bed and that it was with me. The next morning she apologized for waking me up, presumably to make sure that I remembered that she 1) woke me up and 2) told me what time it was and how long she'd been hanging out with them.

Considering all the shit she was giving me earlier in the night for fitness tests, no way these two dudes passed level one, unless level one of her fitness testing is anime trivia. (Quick, name five Dragonball characters who can go Super Saiyan! Don't know the answer? Congratulations, you probably have better things to do.)

Did she blow them and are there going to be Internet pictures of ass-to-mouth Eiffel Towering later on? Who cares? She's not mine; it's just my turn. I care about her, and when she was feeling unwell or scared because a house two doors down got home-invaded, well, I went to her side to help her feel better because I'm a decent human being.

She's not trash to be exploited to me, or property for me to claim and protect -- she's just a woman who likes to fuck me and cook us pasta, and who I like to take out for enchiladas and movies. And that's all we have to be. If I'm not the best she can do, I hope she moves on, and if she doesn't continue to be the best option, she won't continue to get my time.

This is a situation wherein I seem to have done beta things, but which didn't (as far as I know) have any repercussions. I think that was because 1) I didn't care and 2) they were no threat.

Beige Phillip says that the rules exist so that you can learn how to break them. That's Red Pill... living life the way you want to live it.