Oh this one is easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.
I haven't had the best track record with guys. I have dated some doozies, but one stands out in particular.
He was a horror. He and I met through someone I thought of as a friend. At the time, I didn't realize they had dated before, and that played a HUGE part in our final breakup. Let me list some of the ways he was awful.
- He sold drugs. Out of our apartment. I went to get in the shower one day and pulled back the curtain. Sitting there was a duffle bag, and when I asked him what it was, he said not to worry about it. Yep. It was full of pot. Lovely.
- He used my car while I was at work to drive to Tennessee to GET the drugs. He was supposed to be "looking for a job", but no. He was crossing state lines getting illegal substances to sell.
- We fought like cats and dogs. He never actually, physically abused me. No, he liked to do that mentally. I am still reeling from some of the things he said... poor Carl has had to put up with it all these years.
- He cheated on me constantly. We lived together for two months (at the end of the relationship) and when he finally left me for the girl that introduced us, she was two months pregnant. Yeah. Nice.
- I found out the night he and I met, he and the other girl had a bet on me. He said he could get me to fall in love with him, and she said he couldn't. Our ENTIRE relationship was built around a bet and my emotional stability.
- He turned me into a person I am not proud of; one that I am afraid of. He brought out the evil in me. One night he got home, drunk, and I was livid. I threw my keys at him and actually hurt him. When he tossed them back a me (thank heavens he was too drunk to throw too hard), I walked in the kitchen and threw them at the cabinets with the same force as before. They STUCK in the door. Yes, that is how hard I threw them! I'm really surprised they didn't hurt him worse than they did.
On one of the many many nights he was out - with my car - catting it up with his girlfriend, I prayed. I said out loud "I cannot do this anymore. You have to do something to get him out of my life. I am not strong enough to do it myself."
The next day I went to work. He came by the office around 7 p.m. (I worked an 11-8 shift) to tell me he was dropping off the car and going out with a friend of ours and he'd see me at home to watch The Simpsons. I said OK...
I got in the car later that evening and his house keys were in the ash tray. I got to the apartment and all of his stuff was gone. The closet was cleared out. He had completely and totally moved out. (He stole all of my cassette tapes, but hey, he was gone.) I was shocked. At the time, it hurt SO bad. I mean to be such an ass to move out without telling me?
Kinda tells you what a crap-hole he was, huh? Such a chicken and an idiot. Didn't even have the balls to stand up to me. Makes me so angry now. Seriously angry.
There is so much more I could tell you. The scene the day after he moved out, when I found out where he was, was not pretty... I actually could have gotten myself killed.
All I can say is that year and a half was total hell. If he hadn't left when he did, I would now either be dead or in jail. For real. It was awful.