I have known my boyfriend for over a year and a half, but we’ve only been together for the past five months. When we first met I was very reluctant to give him a chance, so we mostly “talked” off and on. When things didn’t work out with the guy I had been seeing, I decided to give him a shot once again. When I called him, he said he was so excited I was ready to be in a relationship with him after waiting so long, but there was a catch. He was talking to his ex-girlfriend at the time and said he wasn’t going to give her up until he knew I was sincere. So about a week later I went to his birthday party, at which he got so drunk that he passed out and I watched another girl kiss him while he was unconscious. I told myself I would never trust him again, and then a couple of days later he told me that he loved me. It has now been five months, and I love him, but we fight over the most insignificant things. He doesn’t want me to hang out with his friends because they all like me a “little too much” and I sense a lack of trust. I want to believe that things will work with him, but I can’t get past the things he says and does, especially when he brings up his ex-girlfriends, saying he gave them up to be with me.
While I was in college, one of my roommate’s buddies was staying for the weekend and, long story short, needed a date. Somehow I ended up calling a friend in a woman’s residence who knew a girl that was also visiting, and we set her up with him. The only reason I believed the following story is because early in the evening, the dude showed back up, wide-eyed and in a state of shock, and the first words out of his mouth were, “She pulled a pin on me.”
We said, “What do you mean, she pulled a pin on you?,” thinking it was an open safety pin or something about that size.
“It was a fucking six inch hat pin,” he explained. That got our attention.
We finally got the whole story out of him, he had picked up his date at the residential apartment she was visiting and took her to a movie. On the way to the movie, he tried to impress her with a line of B.S. like, “My Jag’s in the shop, so I borrowed my friend’s car.” (He was actually borrowing my very used car.) That would be a fed flag for any woman.
The movie was O.K., but he said she seemed a little distant. After the movie, they drove to a party to meet my roommate and his date. But they weren’t there when they pulled up to the house so he waited in the car. I have no idea if he explained to the girl that they were waiting for his friends or what she thought, but when he put his hand on the top of her seat she whipped out a hatpin and said, “Don’t you dare come any closer.”
He dropped her off at the first women’s residence he came to and somehow made his way to our apartment. The guy was definitely a douche, but the look of shock on his face was completely genuine.
This is a story of dating the wrong woman. After dating twenty-eight women I met online (JDate), I felt an affinity and special connection to number twenty-nine. Just about every woman’s profile features the requisite photos of “leaning on the railing of a cruise ship,” “smiling on a bench or her sofa with her puppy,” “fawning over her grandchild, or “in a place with her family.” Number 29 was different; she photographed herself in her bathroom. I smelled her lust just staring at those pictures of her and arranged a meeting. She was out on the curb in her leopard print pajamas when I arrived. We spoke for a few hours in her piss-poor decorated condo, she showed me her bedroom and her two pups that lived in her bed with her. In fact she never left that bedroom except to walk them and drive to 7-11 for a 52-ounce French vanilla smoothie shake (more about that later). She had invited me to her place, and was the only woman of them all to invite me into her home, which was special for me in and of itself.
It was my birthday, and she gave herself to me as a present. The following morning I drove to get her shake at 7-11, while she patiently waited in her bed. When I returned, the first words out of her mouth were “Valentine’s Day we’ll get engaged, and then Valentine’s 2012 we’ll get married.” I would be number four. Hubby number one blew his brains out with a shotgun after six months (she had mentioned to me the night before while we shared an after sex cigarette in her bed). I shrugged it off since I liked the sex.
A few days later she came to my place with a giant suitcase of her stuff, claiming that someone had broken into her place and stole several important things, including a lithograph and a mink coat, and would I be a prince and let her keep her valuables at my place. Of course I obliged. For the next two weeks she kept showing up with more of her “valuables” until it was obvious she was moving in on me. I finally had to confront her when it was obvious she stole my collection of rare and valuable gold cuff links and had the audacity to deny it. (I know how and where I place and position all of my valuables and she had obviously rearranged everything but kept denying the deed.) I threw her out. She called a month later to say she had married number four.
It would be nice to meet women who: (1) have stable employment; (2) do not have a criminal background; (3) have a dependable motor vehicle; (4) aren’t drug addicts or alcoholics; (5) are capable of telling the truth, and not being deceptive; (6) do not have a bunch of kids from various men.
Yes, men have their flaws, we all do – no one is perfect. But I have yet to meet a woman who can meet the above criteria.
My brother-in-law’s girlfriend was pregnant when they meet. She said that she knew who the father was but didn’t want him in her life. Because of this, she wanted to get an abortion so that my brother-in-law could impregnate her instead. They had only been dating three weeks when she made this announcement. She was clearly crazy, selfish and unfit for motherhood, regardless of the father.
If you date a girl for almost a year, and you haven’t once seen or spoken to her parents, who she lives with, by the way, you may want to start questioning things.
I was dating this one girl during my last year of college, and I thought things were going great. We got along all the time, our tastes in things were almost always the same, and, I have to admit, the sex was frequent and quite enjoyable. But, there were multiple red flags with this particular young woman that I ignored and have no idea why:
- Her past was pretty shaded, and refused to go into details about it if I asked.
- From time to time she would drop out of all communication and disappear for days.
- When explaining why she never returned my calls and messages, she would give half-assed excuses and proceed to go down on me (which, stupidly on my part, made me drop the subject).
Well, the summer came (we were together about eight months at this point), I graduated from college and she supposedly had one year left. So I stuck around in town, found a crappy job that paid the bills while she took a couple classes over the summer. We saw each other infrequently. Then one day, as the fall semester was approaching, she claimed she was raped on campus, in broad daylight, while she was on her way to straighten out some registration paperwork. After she told me, I went into an emotional spiral of debilitating empathy for her and rage towards her unknown attacker. A week later, a story was published in the local newspaper about that rape, claiming that the story was a hoax. Which was complete news to me. I called her cell phone and she didn’t answer. Then I called her home line, her mom answered and gave her the phone.
When I asked her what the hell was going on (in a very calm way, mind you), she confessed to the lie and that she had actually flunked out of college. She told me she didn’t know who she was anymore, and I told her that neither did I and I couldn’t date someone I didn’t know or couldn’t trust. So I ended things there. She promised to call me once she figured somethings out (this was almost two years ago), and I haven’t heard from her since. I looked her up about a year later on the local newspaper’s website, and saw that the police had pressed charges for her rape allegation and she had been given court-ordered therapy. Definitely glad I moved on from that. Although now, I tend to win all of the “Bad Exes” competitions with my friends.
I had been dating a girl for three weeks when she happened to mention that her ex-husband told her that he loved her after they had only been dating for two weeks. After I did the rational thing and didn’t say it (you know, since we had been going out for three weeks), she dumped me a week later, saying that things were moving too slow.