It’s funny how anger can flip a switch in your brain — suddenly, you’re creative as hell, writing with fire you didn’t know you still had.

Josh had the nerve to text me today.

He asked if I was OK.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.

The Nerve

His first message came in early, right in the middle of texting with a good friend about my vacation. I looked down and saw Josh’s name on my screen — and for a moment, I just stared at it, trying to decide what to do.

I ended up being polite. I wrote back, “It was a great vacation, thank you for asking.”
Simple. Civil. The kind of message that should’ve been the end of it.

But no.
Of course not.

He followed it up with, “You doing okay?”

Seriously?
In what world do you think it’s appropriate to ask someone if they’re “doing okay” after you cheat on them and leave them for someone else?

I responded — calmly, but directly. He apologized that I was hurt.

Hurt? No, Josh. That would require me to have actually had the chance to fall for you.
We didn’t spend enough time together for my heart to be involved.
My ego, maybe. My pride, definitely.
But my heart? No.

Déjà Vu

The whole thing brought back memories of someone else — a guy I dated years before Kerry. His name was Bob.

He was cute, charming, and told me he didn’t have many friends. So I introduced him to someone I knew from his LDS mission, hoping they’d get along.

Well, they got along, all right.

I found out they were sleeping together through a mutual friend, Doug, who’s still a dear friend today. Doug came over one night and told me everything — how long it had been going on, how he found out.

I was livid.

The next morning, I asked Bob to grab coffee. Picked him up, drove him around, and confronted him. He actually got angry with me — blamed me for his cheating. I let him rant for a minute, then pulled over, told him to get out, and left him to find his own way home.

I never saw him again…
Until he married Doug’s second boyfriend, Tony — who used to be one of my closest friends.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Patterns

It’s probably a blessing Josh didn’t try to tell me about Forty-Five while we were supposed to be on that date in Park City. Because if he had, I guarantee he would’ve been finding his own way home.

There’s a saying — a zebra can’t change its stripes.

Same goes for Josh.
Maybe Forty-Five will figure that out sooner rather than later.

History Repeats

I did try to stay civil with Bob for Tony’s sake. They came to stay at my house for Pride a few times. And every single time, when Tony went to bed, Bob would be upstairs making out with someone else.

He never stopped chasing attention.
Always on the apps, always looking for something new — even with Tony sleeping in the next room.

Tony, Kerry, and I used to laugh so much when we were together. I miss that. I miss him.
And when Kerry visited them in Palm Springs before he died, I really hope they supported him instead of trash-talking me.

I loved Tony like family, but I understood when our friendship ended.
You can only watch someone excuse bad behavior for so long before it starts to break something in you, too.

The last time I saw them, I’d had too much to drink and caught Bob in the act — again.
I stormed out of my room and yelled, “Are you finished making out with my friends, you piece of shit?”

That was the last night they ever stayed.
And honestly, good riddance.

Lessons

I’m not saying Josh will turn into Bob.
But patterns are patterns.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people who cheat don’t usually stop — they just find new people to lie to.

So good luck, Josh.
You and Forty-Five deserve each other.

I’m done.

— Standing on the Edge