Where are you?

I was watching a documentary on Caligula tonight, and got to thinking about people from my past and what they might be doing now. Like my ex-boyfriend Matthew's, best friend Josh.

Josh was 9 yrs older than Matthew and I. He was an out of work pianist, and Matthew's roommate. He smoked pot as much as he wrote music, which was always. He was dark and brooding, with a wide array of flannel shirts. He was a tragic, tortured person who found his brother, after he hung himself. His brother's girlfriend stole the ashes, and Josh never got to say goodbye.

Compared to Matthew, who was an out of work Jew, with a tennis arm, and Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Josh was clearly the catch in that situation.

Matthew and I moved in together, very quickly. Looking back, I see it as playing house. I was making $22,000 a year at a nursing home, and he was making more, living off his parents. While I was putting gas in my Jetta, he was diving into dumpsters to furnish our apartment.

He would rather stay home on the computer or listen to Eminem, so Josh and I would just drive into the night. We'd park across from a now-closed insane asylum in Northeast Philly, and look at the assuming gates. We'd talk about climbing the gates, and never coming back, because it's safer then the real world. Josh would regale me with tales of electro shock therapy, sitting on the train tracks until right before, and lost weekends. After, we'd drive for awhile, with the sun roof open, listening to Soundgarden. Then we'd end these evenings, with a trip to the Eagle dinner for curly fries.

Matthew would usually be asleep, the Klonopine having since kicked in. Is it wrong that I desired the best friend of my boyfriend? Was this a terrible mistake? What the hell was I smoking, to have found either of these men desirable? That's besides the point.

Josh and I would spend more time together, and Matthew would listen to the 8-Mile soundtrack all the time. Rap music made him angry, and he'd berate me and manipulate me. So, I'd go over to Josh's to hear music. Matthew found me one night when I didn't come home, and hit me. For a brief moment in time, I had two men fighting over me, and in my crazy little head, it felt amazing. Yes, the triangle of the woman, her boyfriend, and his bestfriend was the talk of the apartment complex.

Josh and I ultimately deemed it necessary to commit Matthew to a psychiatric treatment center. His parents supported the decision but insisted I handle things. Committing your boyfriend to a psych ward with the help of his best friend is a rather disturbing thing to do.

Josh never spoke to me again. Once Matthew was discharged, I moved out, stealing his Calvin Klein wife beater and some ephedra - this was right before they took it off the market!

I occasionally wonder about Josh. He'd be almost 40 now, and probably still brooding, working at Target. I love Target. I hope wherever he is, he's content.