The Absolute Catastrophe of Common Decency: A Tale of Audacity

 


Oh, you want drama? Buckle in, because this one deserves its own soap opera soundtrack.

Picture it: three years of domestic bliss. We lived together, we parented a dog like the world’s most devoted co-caretakers, and I had basically been absorbed into his family’s genealogy. Holidays spent in warm familial embrace, a seat at the table like I was one of their own, and—oh, let’s not forget—the moment I stood front and centre at his parents’ vow renewal, a groomsman alongside his family members. All the signs pointed to stability, commitment, love.

And then. That Friday.

I, ever the diligent and thoughtful partner, sent him a simple text—a reminder that our friends (not just mine, not just his—OURS) were coming over for drinks. A plan that he had proposed. I expected the usual response—something between excited anticipation and mild forgetfulness. But what did I receive instead?

“Oh, totally forgot! I have a date, so I’ll be a little late.”

I blinked. Surely, I misread. A date? Hilarious. Clearly a joke, right? A joke.

Oh, sweet summer child. It was not a joke.

Because this man. This man. WALTZED INTO OUR HOME—our shared sanctuary, our carefully curated domestic haven—with his actual date, while our friends sat there, eyes wide, jaws unhinged, watching the unfolding disaster like extras in a Shakespearean tragedy. And he? Oh, he was unbothered. Calm. Unapologetic. Like this was just another Friday evening in his world of absolute lunacy.

Cue the confrontation. The reckoning. The moment where surely, surely, he would realize the magnitude of his betrayal.

But no.

Oh no.

Because instead of acknowledging the sheer absurdity of his actions, he hit me with the ultimate plot twist, the line that will be etched into history:

“We never discussed being exclusive.”

Ah yes. The classic loophole! Three years, shared living space, holidays, pets, vow renewals, but tragically, the Sacred Conversation of Exclusivity was never officially conducted. How could I have been so naive? So reckless? So utterly negligent in assuming that maybe, just maybe, common decency would prevail?

Bravo. Truly, a masterclass in villainy. Someone fetch me an award for Best Performance in a Romantic Horror Story—I deserve it.


Do you have a story to share, drop me an email on dpisafox@gmail.com


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