The Moth - They Did WHAT: The Moth Podcast

Episode Date: March 17, 2026

There are so many ways a story can move you - it can make you laugh, can make you cry, can make you rethink your place in the world… but sometimes a story can make you go… what?!?! Are you kidding me?!?! That jerk broke up with you via text?!?! After you catsat for him?!?! So, in this episode, two stories that’ll make you go… they did WHAT?!?! This episode was hosted by Chloe Salmon. Storytellers: Becca L realizes that sometimes it’s better to be alone than to be with someone who can’t commit. Allison Orr goes on a very enlightening Bumble date. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Welcome to The Moth. I'm Chloe Salmon. There are so many ways a story can move you. It can make you laugh, cry, can make you rethink your place in the world. But sometimes a story can make you go, Are you kidding me? He broke up with you via text? After you cat sat for him? Jerk.

I know that when we review stories at the Moth, those are the ones that often lead to a spending 10 minutes sharing our own tales about the times we were flounder. Abbergasted by the absolute audacity of another person. So in this episode, two stories that'll make you go, They did what? First up is Becca L, who told this at a Denver story slam where the theme was, appropriately enough, love hurts.

Here's Becca live at the moth. I remember laughing when he asked if I wanted to marry him. Not at him, but the joy and the idea that anybody would want to marry me. that this man that I loved wanted to marry me. I was grinning from ear to ear, and he had tears running down his face, and I made a joke. I said, are you sure? He laughed and said, no, but I can't imagine my life without you,

and I believed him. A few months passed, and I noticed that his I love yous, turned into love yous, turned into harding my texts that said, I love you. His kisses got shorter, and his hugs got stiffer, and that question, are you sure, hung in the air like a heavy fog, but I couldn't bring myself to ask it anymore.

I didn't want to be the kind of girl who had to ask her fiancé if he was sure, and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer. But I told myself, once I buy my wedding dress, he'll be sure. Once we pick a venue, he'll be sure. Once we book a caterer, he'll be sure. Once we pick every single hors d'oeuvre on the menu, he'll be sure.

Six months to the day before our wedding, I woke up. I checked my phone to see the date, and I rolled over, meaning to tell him that in six months, I would be his wife just in case he forgot. But he wasn't in bed. He was already getting dressed. He never got out of bed before me. I asked if he was okay, and he said, yeah, I'm just going for a walk. Are you sure?

See, what I thought was a normal Friday, turned into six hours later, the two of us sitting at our kitchen counter, the Denver-December sun beating on my already red face. His head is in his hands, and he can't even look at me as he says it. He looks up at our fridge. Our fridge, covered in our own save the date, and in four years of photos that I have carefully picked and printed and pinned to our fridge. He looks at our fridge and he says, I can't marry you. I know, I say. I hand him my ring as he walks out the door, and I wonder when it started to weigh 5,000 pounds,

because the second that I do, I feel so much lighter because that question is no longer sitting on my chest, that question of, are you sure? Because for once I know he is. But it turns out I was wrong because six weeks later he writes me a letter saying that he loves me and that he made the biggest mistake of his life. And I read it and I feel

I feel nothing. I feel nothing because when I turn the page, I see him say that for the sake of honesty, he feels the need to tell me that for the last six months he's had a duffel bag packed in his car because he knew he was going to leave. He just couldn't find the right time. I read it and I feel nothing, nothing but certainty in my soul that for once I am sure that I, deserve someone who is sure. Three days ago, he calls me to tell me that he sent me flowers for Valentine's Day, and when I say, why?

He says he didn't want me to feel alone, but he doesn't know that feeling alone feels so much better than being with someone who isn't sure. I go to the lobby of my shiny new apartment and I see the flowers sitting on a table. And I hand them to the first stranger that I see. I say my ex gave these to me and I really don't want them. And she laughs and says, are you sure? Thank you. That was Becca L.

She works as a red teamer in the cybersecurity space. currently lives in Colorado with her beloved rescue dog. We asked Becca her thoughts on the whole situation now, since it's been one and a half years since she told the story. And she's choosing grace. She says, looking back, she's grateful to him for ending things. She wasn't in the place to do so at the time because she was scared of being alone.

And after two years of living alone, she can happily say that it's not scary at all. I'm so glad to hear that, Becca. I'm also impressed with your maturity. It would take me at least a decade to come around to the conclusion that a person who I felt wronged me was actually making a sound choice. I may never know true peace, but golly if I don't love to hold a grudge. After the break, another story that'll make you shout, the audacity out loud.

This is our glass of this American life. Do you know our show? Okay, well, either way, I'm going to tell you about it. We make stories, old-fashioned stories that hopefully pull you in at the beginning with funny moments and feelings and people in surprising situations, and then you just, you just. just want to find out what is going to happen and cannot stop listening. That's right. I'm talking about stories to make you disappointments and ignore your loved ones.

This American Life, every week, wherever you get your podcast. Welcome back. Our next story is from Allison Orr. She told it at a New York City Story slam where the theme was about time. Here's Allison, live at the moth. The date with Andrew ended as perhaps no date in the history of courtship ever has. with me asking him for his ex-wife's phone number. I had questions, but not about Andrew.

See, Colin was my previous boyfriend, my pandemic boyfriend. And this is a story that's familiar. You've probably heard it before. We were college friends. We reconnected on Facebook. I had had a crush on him back then. And oh, my God, decades later, we're both divorced, yada, yada. And he lived in North Carolina,

And it turns out that 2020 was a really excellent time to have a long-distance relationship because we had lots of time and not much to do. So pretty soon we were visiting each other, every chance that we could, texting all the time. Usually we'd meet in the middle in D.C. and hotels. And it was so much fun. And that year where there was just very little fun to be had. But it was more than just fun. because when Colin told me that he loved me,

it was like the ground shifted. I was just out of an 18-year marriage, and I'd been carrying around this really, like, scary question. Could anyone ever love me again? And so the question was answered, and it was really nice. And then we broke up. That's fine. The relationship ended, but we stayed friends.

He was really special to me, and I did not break up with it. Collins' love. Like I now I carried that around with me and it made me feel confident and strong and resilient as I got vaccinated and downloaded all the apps and started dating again. So I'm on the date with Andrew, around the corner from here in fact. And we're, you know, we met on Bumble and he seems we're, you know, he's funny, he's chatty, he looks like his pictures, it's all good. We're in our first drink and just like halfway through the first drink, the conversation turns to last relationships. I give him like this very quick thumbnail, you know, pandemic,

Facebook, college friend. He's like, oh, that is familiar. His ex-wife did the exact same thing during the pandemic, hooked up with a college friend she connected with on Facebook. And then he asked me, um, does your guy live here? I'm like, no, he lived in North Carolina. It was a long-distance thing. That's so funny. My ex-wife's guy lived in North Carolina. What's his name? Or did you guys, would you like meet in hotels in D.C.? Like, well, yeah, that's the geographic midpoint. What's his name? I bet it's the same guy.

It's got to be the same guy. Like, it's not the same guy. Oh, come on, tell me his name. And he will not drop this joke. He's like pushing this joke to the point where he picks up his phone in the middle of our date and starts texting his ex-wife. What was the name of that guy? And as he's texting her, he asked me a question, well, where did you go to college?

She went to BU. Like, she texts back right away. Ding. Is his name Colin? I excused myself to the ladies' room. Like, why, when, how, what the fucking fuck just happened? Andrew felt terrible. He always takes the joke too far.

Apparently, like, not knowing when to shut the fuck up is his thing. But he was really nice about it. I was a wreck, and he drove me home from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and outside my apartment building, he handed over his ex-wife, Paxton's phone number. And I stayed up all night long waiting to call this woman. I think I made it to like 8.59 a.m. on a Saturday morning, which seemed sort of reasonable, not crazy. She was expecting my call and she very nicely answered all my questions. Like how, when, why? It turns out we went to call us together, but we didn't know each other. She, just like me, had a huge crush on Colin in college. just like me. They reconnected on Facebook at the beginning of the pandemic.

And, you know, their thing was a little more on and off than mine. But we compared calendars. There was significant overlap. And while they didn't have the L word, it wasn't nothing, and she knew nothing about me. So, of course, I confronted Colin about it on the phone, but that was very unsatisfying. I mean, the relationship was already over, and yet I was so completely unmoored by this, like, like new reality, I just couldn't even absorb it into my head. And somehow talking to Paxton seemed to be like a good idea to help me process the shock.

So she and I went out for drinks. And she's really cool. Of course Colin liked her. And we have so much in common. I mean, Colin, my date with her ex-husband. But seriously, Dan, the writer from Blue Buds, who lives in L.A. on Bumble, we've both been out with him. And Bill, the Polly guy in Brooklyn, same. I mean, we had a lot of things to bond over.

And also, she's really smart, and she's a great person to talk to about the things we have in common that we're struggling with. I mean, teenagers, our exes, the new guys, what we even want from relationships at this stage in our lives, and, you know, how to try to be happy sometimes being alone. And we're friends now. That was about a year ago. She's here tonight. I never saw again. But with the perspective of time, I think it was a great date.

I got Paxton, and his like not being able to shut the fuck up thing would definitely have been a problem in a relationship. But on that night, it was this big, beautiful sign from the universe, like telling me, Allison, move on. Learn to love yourself first. That was Allison Orr. She lives in New York City and as a longtime producer behind the NBC News Show Dateline, she's most comfortable telling stories about other people. Good news. Allison and Paxton are still friends. The sisterhood endures. As does Bumble. She stuck with it and three years ago met her current boyfriend. She is not in touch with Colin, but says that time apparently does heal many wounds. She also says that he's a huge fan of the moth and that she hopes he appreciates

being the subject of a good story. That's queen shit right there. That brings us to the end of this episode. Thank you to our storytellers for sharing with us and to you for listening. From all of us here at the moth, we hope that if you have a story that makes people say they did what, you'll find it in your heart to share it with us. To find the next show near you, head over to the moth.org Chloe Salmon is a director at the Moth. Her favorite Moth moments come on show days when the cardio is done, the house lights go down, and the magic settles in. This episode of the Moth podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Janice, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Christina Norman, Marina Clucce, Jennifer Hickson, Jordanale, Kate Tellers, Suzanne Rust, and Patricia Orenna.

The Moth podcast is presented by... Odyssey. Special thanks to their executive producer Leah Reese Dennis. All Moth stories are true as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, the moth.org.