I spent the first part of my life on the outside of society and as hard as it is for me to relate to people on the whole, one-on-one is even harder. When I finally decide to call one “friend,” it’s a big deal. From my friends I expect what I give: loyalty and honesty. C’est compliqué ça? It seems to be for some people.
Listen, I know we French have supposedly elevated deception to high art, maybe from centuries of being occupied. We’re charmers, beguilers; we tell you what you want to hear—and we’ll say anything to get you into bed. True. Okay. But me, I’m more of a straight-shooter. If I like you, I tell you. If I don’t—well, let's just say you'll know to walk on the other side of the street when you see me.
I say what I mean and do what I promise. Surely I learned that on the street. Charm is useful in proper society but on the street, intent is what makes people bend to your will. The sharp point of intent. Still, that I am transparent in my intentions and feelings is considered a weakness by many of my peers. I understand that. One should never reveal all. But I am not a weak man and no one should mistake my honesty as an invitation to screw me over.
I have been betrayed exactly five times in my life, each one like a little slit in my soul that still bleeds. One of the first times was by my closest friend on the street who left me without a word. Another time, by a boy in the academy who would not stand by me when I was being humiliated. Betrayal happens in many ways but always comes in the form of a trusted friend, and always takes me by surprise. You'd think I would have learned by now—a guy like me, from the hard streets. You'd think I'd keep my intent sharpened and unsheathed.
This recent betrayal might be considered a little thing. Some might even wonder why I bother to upset myself over it. And to the French way of thinking, I’m the one who is the ass because I let my guard down; I trusted my secrets to another. Maybe that’s true; maybe it’s my mistake, but it’s still your problem. I’ll make it your problem. Because if you find yourself lucky enough to be taken into my confidence, if I decide to share a secret, you better guard that secret as though your life depended on it—because it just might. If you dare to look me in the face and promise to keep mum, you better keep mum.
Betrayal is unforgivable. On this point I am unwavering. I can take a lot of abuse before I lash out, but betrayal gets you right on my list. And once you’re there, you stay there for good, no matter how much you beg and grovel. No mercy for Judases.
You know who you are. I trusted you and let you in close. I won’t make that mistake again. If I were you, I’d move out of town. You’re on my list.
