He doesn’t respect your boundaries.

I started seeing this guy that a friend had introduced me to. We had several dates: He seemed nice, we had fun, and things progressed. One night, while watching a movie at his place, the first kiss happened. Within seconds, he stuck his hand down my jeans and rammed his finger up my butt. I was alarmed, to say the least, and quickly removed his hand. He immediately tried it again. I cut things short and went home.

I figured that he got the hint, and since we got along really well, I went to his house later that week to watch another movie. He kissed me again and the exact same thing happened. I left, deciding that if I was to keep seeing this ass junkie then a frank discussion was in order. I met up with him for coffee somewhere quiet and gently explained to him that I really enjoyed his company, but the butt fingering had to go.

He was outraged, claiming that most women enjoyed that and that he did too. I responded that everyone was different, but anal play wasn’t for me. He seemed to understand and I thought the matter was settled, so I went to his place to watch a movie later that week and we started kissing. He then grabbed my hand and tried to stick it up his ass. I flung my hand away, then he immediately tried to do the same to me, again. I told him to fuck right off, left, and dumped him by phone the next day.

He then proceeded to stalk me for the next eight years, involving the police and getting fired from his job over it. All of this after only a couple of weeks of dating. The red flag here: If someone won’t respect your personal sexual choices and repeatedly ignores them, then he could very well be a freaking psycho.

He doesn’t fight fair, perhaps because he’s ridiculously insecure.

Just finished reading your book, and enjoyed it for its snarky goodness. I found a combination of sections interesting, as I recently separated from my husband of about 14 years, and then poured myself right into a relationship with another man––the day I moved out. Not my brightest moment, but I thankfully recognized warning signs before getting in too deep.

It all started very well. He was a gentleman, took me out to dinner, opened doors for me, and treated me really well in lots of other ways. We played music together and had a lot in common, but I wanted to take things slow because I felt rather gun-shy after a messy marriage. Mostly he respected that, until it seemed like he didn’t. One day we broke into an argument about something completely trivial, and he bombed me with a whole crap load of things he seemed to have been saving up since we’d begun seeing each other. It was as if he had kept tallies of all the little “transgressions” of my character every day in order to sock me with them during a moment of anger. He proceeded to shred my character, and, being upset, I left the room to cool off. We resolved the argument that night, only to have a couple more of similar instances resurface. When he sensed that I was ready to break it off, he told me that I couldn’t handle the truth about myself and had to go off and pout when we had a disagreement.

Several other red flags: At one point he said to me, “I prefer women with small breasts,” as he looked at my well-endowed chest. He talked about how much he enjoyed intimacy, only to regularly act uninterested whenever I wanted to be close. This guy complained about being overweight, then would sit in front of the TV all day eating. Duh. Even worse, he recently had heart surgery and complained about how his legs hurt from the lack of circulation, but couldn’t be bothered to walk for a few minutes every day, according to the doctor’s instructions, to make it better. “It hurts,” he would say. One of the final straws was his constant complaint of how “so many women hurt him,” (ie: he was cheated on by a couple of ladies, as though he was the first to ever experience that) so he was anxious about getting close. Hmm. I’ve had men hurting me my whole life, and still find it possible to be loving and generous with myself. Needless to say, I gave him the boot. Whew. Catastrophe avoided, and I am happily single.

He invites a second date to join you.

A few years ago, a friend set me up with a guy who lived a few states away from me. We chatted on the phone a lot and when he was coming into NYC we agreed to spend the day together. We started with lunch and then wandered around, I was still feeling the situation out when we happened to pass by the Shakespeare in the Park box office and sure enough they still had tickets available. He suggested we get four tickets and I thought that meant he wanted to invite the friends who set us up (sweet but a bit awkward as this was still our first date). But that wasn’t the case. As we we’re walking away from the ticket booth, he asked if I’d mind if he invited someone else––another woman––with one of the extra tickets and I could use the fourth ticket for someone I knew.

I was a little suspicious at his hesitation and the way he phrased the request, so I pushed him further. Eventually he admitted that he had lined up a second date while he was in town, and he was supposed to meet her later in the day around the time the play started.

At first I was so taken aback I was actually ‘logical’ and polite about his request, eventually my sense returned and I realized he was using me to kill time till he could meet up with her. So I told him to loose my number.

Though the play was awesome.

He’s a hard-core thief.

I dated this guy in college for two, maybe three months. I was living with my parents, and when his roommates moved down the coast––leaving him with nowhere to go––they said he could stay with me there. They gave him a job working for the family business. Long story short, he claimed to be sick a couple of days in a row and stayed home alone while I went to class. During his time alone in the house he rummaged through my parents’ stuff until he found the keys to the safe. I didn’t know until about a month later that he had basically robbed my parents’ house.

I had just dumped him when his best friend called me to ask about some laptop my grandmother (who was very much dead) gave my ex. He sold that same friend a gorgeous ring that a great, great uncle made over 100 years ago. Then I started wondering so I called my mother. He had stolen tools, extremely valuable coins, a 100-dollar bill proof and so on. The total loss was over $10,000. He pawned it all at a local pawn shop, showing his ID and signing his own name, for about … $300. The police wouldn’t do anything, but they had no problem arresting his friend for giving us back the ring he bought.

A couple weeks later he was all over the news with two other guys for robbing like fifteen places around the state.

He’s a psychotic player, Part II.

A follow up to the original “He’s psychotic player” post …

Not only was he in every single parent group imaginable, this guy was also totally into helping the Cub Scout “den mothers.” He held a couple of meetings at his house, at which I helped with refreshments, and I got the worst vibes of resentment from the other kid’s moms. Déjà vu. He laughingly told me that he had playfully asked a few of them to marry him a couple of times, and when they started taking him seriously, he had to back-off and tell them that he just wanted to be friends. He said, “I just wanted to help them feel good about themselves, but they wanted more than I was ready to give …” Of course, he still wanted to talk about sex with them. When I mentioned that he only seemed interested in helping single women that he could manipulate, he got angry and changed the subject to his “confirmed-kills in Nam” and the sad anniversaries of all the friends he’d lost. That’s when I finally dumped him.

Clarification:  This isn’t about God and church nor American patriots/warriors, this is about psychos blowing authoritative-sacred-cow smoke screens in the name of Jesus and the American Flag.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

On our first date, I asked this man if he had any children. He immediately looked down at his drink and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I left it alone. He seemed normal otherwise, so I started hanging out with him more and more. After about two weeks of dating, he brought over some laundry and asked if I could do it for him because he was very busy. It was mostly sheets and things like that, which I thought was weird since we had only been dating a couple weeks, but I decide to help him. He then decided to “break the bad news” to me after I had spent the afternoon doing his laundry. Turned out, the reason he didn’t want to talk about his child, his son, was because the baby and his mother were in the hospital after she almost died giving birth to him. While he had been out with me for the past two weeks, his girlfriend was in the hospital with a fifty-fifty percent chance of surviving. Then, he continued to tell me that he loved me and that he was leaving his baby’s momma once she fully recovered, so that we could raise his son together. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I threw his laundry at him and told him to get out. He continued to harass me, which ironically enough lead to a friendship with the poor woman who almost died giving birth to his son.

He’s a horrible person and bad liar.

On my second date with this guy I really liked, we went to a local bar near his house (I lived an hour away). We played pool, video bowling and in general had a good time. While he was playing pool with some guys, I chatted it up with one of their wives.  Our conversation started out normally enough, but I quickly discovered she was kind of strange after saying a few things that made me uncomfortable. Well, her husband ended up leaving her at the bar and she claimed she was going to take a cab home. Instead, she immediately latched onto my date and I for entertainment.

When I told him I was ready to go, he asked me about inviting this woman (I’ll call her “R”) back to his house to play pool. I told him I was uncomfortable with that and just wanted to spend the rest of the evening getting to know him. We said our goodbyes and R said something about how she was also ready to go and, “I guess I better call a cab.” My date then invited her over to his house, suggesting she just call a cab from there. She accepted.

At his house, she kept going on and on about how much my date reminded her of her son (since she was more than twice his age), but kept touching him in a way that I thought was inappropriate, especially for someone who reminded her of her son. A couple of hours later, after I’d asked many times about calling her a cab, it seemed like she has no intention of leaving and he wasn’t pushing the issue. So I decide to drive myself home.

Well, my GPS wasn’t working fast enough, and since I was in the middle of nowhere, I decided to head toward “downtown,” thinking I’d have better luck picking up a satellite.  After sitting in a grocery store parking lot for twenty minutes, I called my date hoping to get directions.  He didn’t answer so I left a message saying I was lost and to please call me back.  After maybe twenty more minutes and no return call from him, I felt like my only option was to go back to his house and use his computer to get directions. (There was nothing open at that time of night, and I had no where else to go.)

When I pulled into his driveway, I discovered the house was dark. I though one of two things must be going on: Either R finally left and he went to bed, or they were in bed together. I sucked it up and rang the doorbell.  After ringing the bell twice, he answered the door. He immediately gave me a hug, claimed he was sleeping, and told me how happy he was that I came back. I figured that R had left, until he informed me that he was calling her a cab right then.  She immerged from the bedroom shortly there after and told me, “Nothing happened! I mean nothing!” She grabbed her and headed back to the bedroom to presumably call a cab. A few minutes later she reappeared, screaming that she wasn’t going to take a cab home and that since my date was the one who brought her back to his house, it was his responsibility to get her home. When my date reminded her that it was always her intention to call a cab, she completely lost it. Looking me dead in the eye, she said, “He just had his hand up my pussy five minutes ago! What do you think about that?”

Then she launched at my “date” saying how they were fooling around and he just stopped as soon as I showed back up, and what kind of man does that to a woman? He tried to calm the situation down, but the chick was obviously very pissed off. So he called her a cab, which came shortly thereafter and she finally left. As soon as she was gone he tried to kiss me and I pushed him away. He tried telling me that nothing happened between them and but he didn’t deny her claims because he didn’t want to make a bad situation worse since R was acting crazy. He said they were just sleeping, so I asked why would he ask an absolute stranger that he just met—and was married by the way—to stay at his house and sleep in his bed? He didn’t have an answer.

Then I noticed that the clothes he was wearing that night were on the living room floor.  I asked him why he had undressed in the living room, and he tried to tell me that that wasn’t what he had been wearing. Really?  Are you kidding me?  We spend the entire night together and I don’t know what he was wearing?  I told him not contact me again, walked out the door and never looked back. Oddly my GPS decided to work right when I got back into my car: I wonder what forces were in play that night to make sure I found out early on what kind of man he really was.