Reserve My Place in Hell

So last week I meet up with a female friend of mine who's been going through something of a tough stretch, to put it mildly. A culimination of romanitc, medical and personal woes that have had her strung out but good for several months now. So she tells me to meet her at the bar after work because she needs someone to talk to, and I oblige and I get us some beers and listen intently and as she goes on and on and on. And as she vents and the eyes well up with tears and the arms reach out again and again to hug me because she just needs something solid and warm and real in her life, all I kept thinking about was how hot her mouth looked, and if I'd somehow be able to wrangle a blowjob out of this.

Does that make me a bad person?