She cheated with my best friend, so I’m in Sturgis

Nighttime view of a lonely biker sitting alone at a outdoor bar in Sturgis, South Dakota. It's raining and he's the only one at the bar.

It’s raining on me and I don’t care. (Photo courtesy Midjourney)

Sitting here on a stool at an outdoor bar in downtown Sturgis, feeling the cold rain pierce through me, my heart aches with a pain I’ve never known.

The betrayal, the confusion, the anger – it’s all too fresh, too raw.

Lollapalooza was supposed to be a celebration, a time to enjoy with friends and my true love. But when I opened that porta-potty door during Billie Eilish on Thursday night and saw my best friend finger-banging my girl, I knew I had only two choices:

Kill them.

Get the hell out of Chicago.

So I fired up my Fat Boy and headed to Sturgis.

I’m half-hammered on a downtown bar’s patio. The other riders move the party inside, but the thunderstorm resonates with my soul, its crashes echoing my inner turmoil. So here I sit, soaked and broken.

I still love her, but it’s a twisted love now, gnarled and painful. And my best friend’s betrayal cuts even deeper. That trust we’d known since Dean Morgan Middle School is ashes. Fuck him.

I want to scream, to hit someone, to understand why I’m on the verge of losing control. But maybe some things aren’t meant to be understood, just felt in all their terrible glory.