I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before I found Byron in this position.
BYRON: God, Kevin! Close the door!
You thought I was speaking metaphorically?
He was upstairs in one of the guest rooms (Yes, there were several. It was a regular John Hughes movie in that house) making out with some guy on a bed.
ME: Sorry! I just wanted to make sure you were--
That's when Random Guy piped up.
RANDOM GUY: Dude, did you see a blonde girl with a red shirt on downstairs?
ME: I don't think so. Why?
RANDOM GUY: Because that would be my girlfriend.
ME: Ahhh...in that case, I saw her walking up the stairs and--
That was all it took to have him out of the bed and out the door.
BYRON: Are you serious?
ME: Am I serious? What about you?
BYRON: Kevin, I was getting--
ME: Confused? I hope you were about to say confused.
BYRON: I liked that guy!
ME: You don't even know that guy!
Byron got off the bed, but I slammed the door before he could get to it.
ME: You are aware that a guy just out of the closet sleeping with another guy in the closet is like a recovering alcoholic hanging out with a bartender, right?
BYRON: He was hot.
ME: You know what? I'd be willing to write it off as shallowness and let that be that, but that guy wasn't even hot. He wasn't even cute. He wasn't even decent. He was just close enough to what you used to be, and so you went running for him.
BYRON: That's not true.
ME: Byron, there's nothing hot about someone who hates who they are.
BYRON: Wow, good to know you think I'm so ugly.
With that, he was out the door.
This time, I didn't bother stopping him.
I knew somewhere in that conversation, I'd crossed a line.