Remember that episode of “Friends” when Ross & Rachel fight over his infidelity while they were on a ‘break’? Well, I am the new Rachel. When my boyfriend— correction, fiancé— Mike and I weren’t getting along he suggested we go our separate ways. I was fine with that. I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want to be with me. Besides, he was always accusing me of being unfaithful which I wasn’t. One week later my phone rings that special ringtone I had just for him. Confused, I answered the phone. He went into detail about how we really didn’t break up at all. Apparently, sometime after another woman and that particular phone call, he decided we weren’t broken up but we were on a break. And as a rule, when you’re on a break you can do whatever you want. He asked me if I had been seeing another man. I was so disgusted with that question. I told him no because I had just broken up with my fiancé (YOU, idiot) just one week ago. So, no. I didn’t have a new boyfriend. He reminded me that we weren’t broken up but on a break. So, I asked him if he had been with another woman and he answered yes. I told him if we were on a break, doesn’t that mean we’re taking time apart but we are still together. He agreed. I then asked him, if we are still together and you see another woman isn’t that cheating? His answer, “We were on a break.” He could have gotten away with it if he had just stuck to the ‘we were broken up’ part. He’s not guilty if we weren’t together. He did break up with me and instead of admitting that he changed his mind and he loved me and being apart isn’t what he wanted after all, he decided to try and fool me into believing we were on a break. But that only made it worse because if we were on a break and he dated another woman, then he cheated. I can’t believe he thought I was stupid enough to be broken up with and then get tricked into believing that I hadn’t been broken up with. Needless to say, that’s when I knew it was over. Truly, over. I loved the kid, but not enough to be a real life Ross and Rachel.

Old Lying Man

I was dating an older man, it turned out he had lied about his age from the very beginning. First on match, David Hughes said he was 62, then he was 65 and finally it turned out he was 68. He was a very smooth talker. I am 56 yrs old, attractive younger looking woman..and I told myself that looks didn’t matter..that he really cared. Well on top of all the lies when we finally got to bed after 2 months of emailing it turns out he was impotent as well. Don’t you think in the 200+ emails he would have brought that up..said it was something new because of prostrate surgery..oh but then that story changed, then he said he had been impotent 8 years!! It turns out he was cheating with this disgusting old lady, with the old lady smoking voice…gross!!! What was I thinking to have even looked twice at this old f…..?? Always go with your gut!

I feel foolish even telling this story. I met an attractive, smart, 47-year-old plane-cash-survivor
(former glider pilot) 2 years ago at the most popular singles group
on meetup. I knew he was a little strange, but I didn’t realize just
how much.

In the beginning, I saw that he had little impulse control. (He was
severely brain damaged from the accident, in the frontal lobe portion
of the brain–which controls social behavior.) He would say strange,
inappropriate things and even frighten strangers. Then I realized
that he enjoyed it. Once, he held my hand as he asked the clerk at a
pharmacy if she liked to eat “balls”, then mentioned something about
blindfolding and kidnapping her. Her eyes were wide with fear.

I told him that this wasn’t OK, and he didn’t believe me! I asked him
to speak with his therapist.

Then he started to get mean. He called me horrible names. He made fun
of my intellect, my body and more.

The sex was frequent, he had a high libido (though he was
narcissistic and selfish), and I felt lonely, so I kept hoping he’d
get better with help. Then I went to his therapist with him and she
told me he was a “healthy sadist”, and a “pussycat until provoked”.
What does that mean? I found out soon.

A few weeks later, I went to his apartment to pick up my things and
told him I was leaving him. Then he pulled a knife out of the drawer
and held it against my abdomen, and, as I left, called the police
saying I was “harassing” him. As I left his apartment and walked
towards the subway, 7 police cars from the precinct in Forest Hills
approached me. I was held for more than an hour, because he refused
to open his door (they had to see that he was OK). He was calling his
ex-wife, a criminal attorney. Then I was released.

I sought and obtained a restraining order, made a police report, and
kept him away from me for eight months.

After everything that had happened, I was foolish enough to speak to
him when the order expired. (What an idiot I was). He was still
charming and child like. I still had the stupid notion that he might
be able to control his bizarre impulses.

We dated on again and off again, two weeks at a time. Then he started
to insult me once more. Finally, I got tired of playing “nurse” and
allowing his disability to be an excuse for his cruel behavior. So
after a few more rounds of his calling me horrible names, debasing me
as a woman, telling me my breasts were uneven”, calling me
“stupid” and “dirty”, I had finally lowered myself to his
level and told him that he was brain-damaged and that no one would
ever stay with him for very long. I’d like to say it bothered me to
be mean to him in return, but it didn’t. I felt vindicated.

First off, I’ll just admit it – I’m
an actor.

I’ve been acting since I was three years old and it was always my
dream to live in Los Angeles and pursue my career there.

Unfortunately, I fell for a guy whose dream was to pursue a career in
Boston.

We had a long distance relationship for almost four years. During
that time we were always trying to get the other person to move to
our respective towns.

One day we decided a good “compromise” would be to get an apartment
together in Western Connecticut. He could drive to his job in Western
Massachusetts everyday and I could take a quick train ride into NYC
and pursue my career there. We got a beautiful apartment on the
water, I was living with the guy I loved, working as an actor, and
living closer to my east coast family and friends. I should have been
happy.

I wasn’t.

I woke up every day missing Los Angeles. Everything about it – my
friends, the sights, the smells, the people, the sunshine, the
traffic. For some reason, it just felt wrong to be in CT.

I starting praying everyday that God would either, a) make me forget
LA, or b) give me a sign that I needed to go back.

After praying for four months, I got my sign.

My boyfriend and I were driving to a party when he mentioned he was
offered a great job in Andover, Mass and he wanted us to move there
so he could take it. I said, “Andover??? Like the remote part of
Northern Massachusetts? What am I supposed to do there – get a job as
a waitress?”

His response?

“Well, you’re not going to pursue this acting thing forever, are
you?”

It hit me like a thunderbolt of lightning. Thanks, God. What was I
thinking being in a relationship with someone who truly didn’t
understand who I was? Did I seriously move across the country for
him?

I pulled the car over and starting bawling crying. He said, “I think
we need to stop this conversation.” And I said, “No, I think we need
to stop this relationship.”

Six months later I was back in LA. It was the best decision I have
ever made.

In fact, two days ago I returned from my honeymoon with my amazing
husband who is also my best friend. He supports that I will be “doing
this acting thing forever” wholeheartedly and loves living in Los
Angeles as much as me.

Though we lived far away, Jake and I kept up a good relationship for a year. We traded off visiting each other’s places and spoke via phone and text message regularly. He talked about a future together and made it clear to me (and everyone else) that this was his intention. Again, I was ecstatic. Most girls can’t find a man who wants to commit and mine was not only willing to commit but not afraid to let others know? I thought for sure it was just a matter of time until I got the rock.

Then he lost his ROTC scholarship. We were both devastated. Jake began to pull away from me. He was always the outgoing, talkative one and I was the quieter one. But now we’d talk on the phone for half an hour and he would say “uh-huh” to everything I said. I’d ask him what was going on and he’d heave a long sigh and respond, “I dunno…not much.” I told myself that any ill feelings were just because I’d lost my man in uniform and that was selfish; I needed to forget about it. I reminded myself that I loved Jake, not the uniform.

Except it became harder and harder to love him. The next time I visited Jake it was obvious that he’d completely let himself go. He’d stopped working out and grown a goatee that made him look like Billy the innkeeper in Stardust. This disgusted me, but he was kind and loving to me throughout my visit. Once again I told myself that was the important thing. I would just have to get past his rapidly deteriorating appearance.

When I left, Jake didn’t call me to ensure I was safe. In fact, he didn’t call me at all. I sent two texts asking him to call and he never did. Finally I phoned him and felt like a telemarketer. He couldn’t get me off the phone fast enough. A few days later I found out why.

I received a letter postmarked two days after I had left. Jake told me he had not been in love with me for the last several months, and he didn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore.  However, he still wanted us to see each other periodically and keep in touch. He wanted us to “just be the best of friends.” Jake told me how awesome I was, and how many great memories he shared with me, but it was just time for our relationship to end.

I spent two days a heartbroken, destroyed mess. All the dreams I’d had for us were gone. I felt cheated and betrayed. Jake had spent the last six months lying to me and stringing me along, and he’d let me spend an ungodly amount of money on a plane ticket when he had every intention of dumping me. I couldn’t believe I’d ever wanted to get involved with him in the first place. How could I not have seen what a coward and a loser he was?

I have no intention of ever speaking to Jake again. But today I am grateful for him. I’m grateful that he dropped me before we got married. If he did this now, I’m quite sure he would have done so after we said the vows and exchanged the rings. He showed me his true colors and made me realize that I can do so much better than him. And while I may have cried for a couple of days, he’ll be crying for the rest of his life. Because he’s now joined The Club. The club of men who watch Star Trek all by themselves because they didn’t marry Katie Tallaksen.

I always liked Marines better, anyway.

He cried all the time when we started dating.I’d go to the store for a minute, only to find him crying when I returned:

I am not an understanding person.   THEY were together for nearly 8 years!  Should we break up? No, he’s in love with me, not her. It’s just going to take him a little while longer to get over HER.

He began to lay down the law:

He is in charge.  We go to bed when he is ready for bed—5AM.  If I want a warm blanket, I can buy it myself.  If I want a bed large enough for 2 people, I can get it myself.  He can’t sleep at my house because he has to play his guitar all night.  We eat what I put in his fridge, or we eat eggs.  We go where he wants when he wants and I better be on time.  If I don’t like it, we can go out separately.  THEY used to go out separately.

He couldn’t believe he was attracted to me.He told me this all the time.

He usually likes short brunette girls, like HER.  She is so sexy.  He’s never been attracted to cheesy blondes with blue eyes.  I am blonde with blue eyes.  So many girls love him!  They are all over him!  He is the man!

He was so mad that I put pictures of us on Facebook, even though he had asked me to join the site:

SHE saw them!  SHE de-friended him!  I am so insensitive.  He de-friended me.

How dare I complain?If I don’t like it I can leave.

I leave.  He begs me to come back.  He throws me out.  He begs me to come back.  He throws me out.  He begs me to come back.  He throws me out.  He begs.  We break up.

He tried to date HER again, but he wouldn’t stop calling me.

I see them at my graduation.  SHE is not the short, dark-haired woman I imagined.  SHE is not Selma Hayek or Eva Longoria Parker.  She is chunky and frumpy.  She is from New Jersey.  He can’t seal the deal with her.  He’s only attracted to me.  But I’m not good enough to marry because I want children.  We are 30.  SHE has her priorities in order.  SHE tells him that she doesn’t want kids anytime soon.   SHE wants what he wants.  SHE won’t ever ask for a thing.  SHE will never complain.  SHE’s perfect for him.

After he finally found me, there was an awkward, “I tried to go in for the hug, he turned it into a high-five.” Then, we took a cab to his apartment just outside downtown. Side note: apartment=disgusting. Nasty furniture, dirty dishes in the sink and all over the house, shit everywhere, bathroom was disgusting, and I’m cringing at the thought of it right now. Looks like its never been cleaned – ever. After he changed his clothes and put his work stuff away, he said we would go out to dinner. He took me to Georgetown, a fancier part of DC, with nice restaurants, upscale shops, etc. So I thought, hmmm nice dinner, could be fun. No. he takes me to freaking Chipotle. Because he doesn’t want to wait 15 minutes for a table.

So we go through the line, pick out our food, “build our burrito” if you will, get up to the cash register. And right as we get up to the register, he happens to see someone he knows across the restaurant (perfectly timed, I might add) and goes over to say hello. I end up paying for the meal! So I get our food and take it to a table, and then he sits down and starts eating, no thank you or anything.

After dinner, I asked if we could walk around the area, look at the shops and stuff. The whole time we were walking, he would always walk ahead of me, not beside me. And I think it was around the time of prom, so there were all these girls in fancy dresses, guys in tuxedos, and limos everywhere, so I was people watching a little. We were waiting at a corner to cross the street, and I guess the pedestrian light turns green and he starts walking. I must have been people watching all the prom kids, not paying attention. He starts whistling and snapping his fingers at me, telling me to come, like a dog!! I say back to him, “excuse me, I’m not your dog” and he just laughs and keeps walking.

We finish walking around, and go back to his apartment. When we get there, he asks if I want a drink. I ask what he has, and he says Jack Daniels and a bottle of wine. But then he adds: “I don’t know how old the wine is.” So he does a taste test, pours some in a glass, takes a sip and says, “Yeah, it’s pretty good.” I look down at his glass, and floating in the wine he just poured were hundreds, I kid you not, HUNDREDS of fruit flies! I look at him and say, “Did you just drink that!?!” and he looks at the glass, and runs to the kitchen and starts washing his mouth out and spitting and everything. I start laughing, naturally, and he gets angry. He says if I ever speak of this, he will punch me in the face. Sadly enough, he wasn’t kidding.

So I have to settle with a jack and coke, no ice, because it’s a guys house and guys aren’t organized enough to have ice in the freezer. We are sitting on his couch drinking and he is channel surfing. It was a Friday night, there were several movies on TV, but no. I have no say in what we watch. He makes me watch UFC fighting. ok, I totally respect UFC fighters, good for them, with their ability to kick other peoples asses. But no thanks. Don’t want to watch you.

Okay, I know you are probably thinking, this is ridiculously long, but just wait… it gets better.

So we are watching the UFC fighting, then he jumps up and says, “Wait, I have to show you something!” he starts rearranging his bedroom furniture and then goes to his closet and pulls out this big square suitcase with a cord attached. He plugs the cord into this wall and this loud obnoxious motor noise starts coming from the suitcase. The suitcase starts to unfold and expand. All this different parts keep coming out and getting bigger. IT’S AN INFLATABLE MATTRESS!! I’m sitting there speechless. And he turns to me and says, “What do you think? My mom got it for me from sky mall!”

Then he comes over to the couch, picks me up and throws (literally throws) me on that inflatable crap and starts to try to make out/hump my leg. We are both fully clothed, I wasn’t drunk at all, and he is sitting there humping my leg. Really, really? Then he turns to me and says “do you have a condom?”

At that point, I stand up, get my things, and leave. Standing outside, waiting for a cab to come, and a $78 cab ride later, I make it back to my hotel. Needless to say, I haven’t spoken to him since.

Early last year after a 2 year dating and sex drought I decided it was high time to get up and meet someone new. After my lifelong sweetheart and I broke things off 3 years ago I hadn’t had much interest in dating. One night while sitting alone in my cold apartment I decided I wouldn’t spend anymore Friday nights alone with Will and Grace reruns and a large pizza. So I joined a dating site and soon began meeting people. After two miserable encounters I was about to give up. And then there was a message from a cute sailor who on paper seemed quite perfect. After a few emails and texts we agreed on a first date. And what a first date it was. He was Italian, funny, a great butt and he adored me. He brought me a dozen roses and opened doors for me. When he kissed me it was like I’d never been kissed before. Suddenly I felt like I was back in the saddle again, ready to go.

Things were going well until about a month into the relationship. I logged onto facebook one day and noticed someone named Jordana was leaving him gifts and messages. She sent him a virtual strip tease. Who was this woman moving in on my man? His ex from Maine, whom he’d left behind after comng home to Cincinnati when his stint with the Navy was over. She was ten years his senior, thinner than me with giant breasts and big curly black hair. She was covered in tattoos and had piercings and even owned her own hair salon. She posted pictures of herself in her Red Sox jersey with giant hoop earrings. Being a diehard Yankees fan I didn’t need any more reasons to hate this woman. Yet somehow I felt inadaquate and frumpy compared to this barfly mess. I soon confronted him in which he confessed that he still loved her. We agreed to take life one day at a time and just enjoy each others company. Everything was going smoothly until 2 weeks later…

On a Monday morning around 6 a.m. I recieved a text message. The contents of this said text message was so vile and so heartbreaking I ran to the bathroom and threw up. It simply said ‘You’re going to hate me for what I’m about to tell you. Jordana is coming to visit me for 5 days’ They would be shacking up in a hotel together while she was here. He said he needed to do this and asked if I would wait for him until she was gone. He thought that he’d have a better idea of what he wanted once he spent some time with her. I went nuts. I threatened to message her on facebook and tell her who I was. To her, he was still single, pining over her monster boobs and barhair while he was really with me. She didn’t know I existed. After a long week of fighting he text me the night before she was to arrive and said she wasn’t coming. Upset that he wouldn’t take time off work to hang out with her, she decided not to come. She deleted him from facebook and myspace, even out of her phone. Everyting seemed perfect.

The next weekend we had a great night out with my friends. Driving home from a party I looked at him snoozing in the passenger seat next to me and thought ‘this is totally worth; everything is going to be all right’.And it was. Until the following Saturday. He text me and said he’d been doing a lot of thinking lately and decided he never wanted to see me again. He didn’t have a reason. He just needed space. I tried and tried to get a reason out of him but he never caved. Even after a face to face meeting to redeem the Reds tickets I’d bought him he wouldn’t give me a reason. He told me I was beautiful and drove away. The moral of the story is that I should’ve gotten out while I was ahead. I had the upper hand and instead I came out looking like a crazy heartbroken mess. I let my guard down and let a man who had no remorse for his infidelity get the best of me. For some reason I hate her more than him. Maybe it’s easier; I didn’t know her. Who knows. But what I do know is that never again will I let someone come in and crap all over my life. And every woman should follow suit. If theres another woman, you’re not special. If there’s an ex still in the picture there’s a chance he will never give you his full attention. Or his heart.

It was an odd request, sitting here on his couch watching television, having a few drinks. It was probably the last thing I expected to come out of Tim’s mouth in fact; who asks their girlfriend to shave them anyway?! Sure, we cared about each other, but was this really my responsibility? I could see watering his plants or feeding the fish while he was out of town or something, but never expected this favor to be asked of me. Strangely enough, I agreed to his request and there we were in his bathroom, shaving his overgrown, tangled mess of his thick, coarse, black back hair.

Now I must say I am not one to be tolerant of guys and their flaws. Being a lot like the female version of Seinfeld, I can always find something that is not quite right with guys I date; whether it be their abnormal hairy moles, flabby bellies, or slight lisps, that’s the end of it for me. For some reason, though, this shaving adventure was one I agreed to and thought I could handle. For a second I was convinced that this meant he was definitely “the one”. I thought for this very brief, fleeting moment that I had been wasting my time all these years with all the other smooth, hairless backed guys of the world only to realize that hairy beast was the guy for me. It turns out you never look at someone the same after you shave their backs. Believe me, I am not one at all to give advice on guys, but can give advice in the area of shaving your boyfriend’s back (or anyone’s back for that matter): just say no.

When I passed and was sworn in a couple blocks from where he worked, my parents flew in to support me but he couldn’t take an hour out of his day to make an appearance. He didn’t like kissing so we never kissed, not even during sex. He also had a bad habit of crushing my head every single time he would climax. When I gently mentioned to him that I was starting to worry he might break my neck during sex he got defensive. All of these things should’ve been major red flags but I just kept telling myself “That’s just how he is. He’s special and quirky and I like that. I’m lucky to be with someone who’s so different.” I had myself completely convinced that I was the luckiest girl to be with him and that everyone else could see how “lucky” I was.

A little over two years into it we decided to get engaged and move in together. It was more of a negotiation than a decision but I had completely fooled myself into thinking I wanted it. Shortly after that I was faced with a heartrending decision to have surgery that would ensure I could never have children. We talked it over in depth and decided it would be the best thing and we would work through it when that time came. I felt fortunate to have made the decision with the person I planned to spend the rest of my life with. Fast forward two months after the surgery, we both flew to New York and met there for a four-day vacation where we planned to get engaged (the ring had been purchased two months earlier). I would move in with him the next month. Instead, we met at the airport and went to the hotel where he told me he didn’t love me, had known this for months (well before the surgery) but didn’t have the courage to tell me until then.

He then promptly went back to the airport, flew home, and never spoke to me again.I FINALLY came to my senses the second he dumped me. As the words came out of his mouth and I realized that was it, I felt nothing but a huge sense of relief. No sadness, no anger, no confusion, just absolute utter relief that I didn’t have to be with him anymore. I don’t know why I was hanging on so much or why I felt I was so lucky to be with him. I’m extremely grateful he dumped me because I was so focused on making it work I never stepped back to take a look and realize I didn’t really want it to work.