They say that breaking up is hard to do.....

Damn. I was hoping for that, seriously.

Well, I guess I will find out soon enough.

Oh, and good luck tonight.

 

Let's see ...

I had been dating this girl who went to the big university in my town. This was almost 20 years ago. I was living pretty marginally -- 20 years old, renting a room in a house, scraping out an existence as a freelancer. And I was cutting some major corners, which I'll get to in a sec.

One day, I was supposed to meet her for lunch. Had a ton of errands to do beforehand, so I got an early start. It was a cold day, frost on the windshield, and I didn't bother to clear it before leaving the driveway. Backed into a guy's truck that was passing by. When he found out I didn't have insurance, he rightfully blew a gasket and called the cops. They promptly arrested me.

Finding a friend who could bail me out took a while, and I missed our lunch date. When I called, I didn't want to tell her what had happened to me, so I just made something up. She said, "I wanted to talk about this face-to-face, but ..." Like a bullet through the heart, man. I loved that girl. When I told her what really happened to me, we both felt awful. It was probably a little worse for me, though. Just guessing.

Worst day of my life, and it's not even close.

 

As long as we're going with friend stories, I got one.

A buddy of mine is a bit of player ... well, no. He just can't keep it in his pants. Was seeing this girl for a little while and he says one morning they're going at it with her on top. She apparently hits her climax. Quickly gets up and runs to the bathroom. My buddy starts realizing it's more wet than usual and smells funny.

Turns out the girl pissed all over him. I don't know that they ever officially broke up. But I think it was understood that he didn't want to see her and she didn't want to be embarassed by seeing him.

That was five years ago and it's still a weekly joke amongst our group of friends.

 

What's a little urine between intimates?

 

These posts are the reason why you'll never make all-SportsJournalists.com.

Only I truly appreciate them, and I am but one man.

Still, outstanding work.

 

A friend of mine in college used to regale us with tales of how she puked on a guy once as she climaxed.

None of us ever had sex with her. I'm sure it was a coincidence.

 

Make that two men.

BYH has my first-team vote in perpetuity for posts like that.

 

He's in my top five, but everyone's vying for second after Double Down.

 

I once loved a woman who drove me to drink.

Can't believe I let her go --- she made a great designated driver.

 

The year was 1999. I met a girl and fell in love. We dated for about seven months. Everything was wine and roses, chirping birds and sunshine.
Then she woke up one day and decided she didn't like me anymore.
Literally.
We had sex on Monday night. On Tuesday night, I came home around 8:30 and all the lights in the house were off and she was in bed. Figured this was fine, because on Wednesday morning we were driving to my sister's wedding. In Nebraska.
You know how long it takes to get from Mississippi to Nebraska? A long fucking time. And when your girlfriend is pissed at you, won't tell you why, snaps at you every time you try to ask why, and is generally an unhappy camper, it takes a looooonnnnnggggg fucking time.
So we do this same routine for the next two days. I ask, she doesn't answer. The wedding -- which turned out to be the last time I saw my father alive, as I figured it might be -- was a total emotional trainwreck. We drive back home without stopping. Twenty-plus hours, and she drove the whole way because her car was stick and I can't drive stick. Somewhere in Missouri I ask, nervously, if we can stop at McDonald's for food. We go through the drive thru.

We continue to live together, in uncomfortable silence, for the next two weeks. Each attempt to salvage the relationship is rebuffed. Finally, she moves out. Eventually, I move on.
Only she won't let me.
Over the course of the next two years, she randomly pops back into my life every few months. Her aunt lived in my apartment complex, so I see her a few times when she visits her. She eventually moves to Ohio to be with a guy she had started dating (and who, I found out later, she had been seeing before we dated; thus possibly making me a rebound boyfriend). Only, she's not happy, she tells me.
October of 2001, she comes to visit her family. I run into her at her aunt's and we end up spending a good chunk of the week together. Nothing romantic, just becoming friends again. I have hope.
Over the next two months, she starts e-mailing me almost every day. Tells me she misses me. Gives me more hope that we might end up getting back together.
She finally visits in January of 2002. I call her mother's house. She doesn't answer. I call some more. She still doesn't answer. I finally get her on the phone and she says about three words. I don't know what the fuck is going on. I finally talk to her mom and she tells me her boyfriend had come with her. I'm crushed. We go shopping or something with her, her mom and grandmother, but it's almost like a forced date with seventh graders. Very little conversation, very little interaction. I don't know how to act.
The worst part was, I had taken the entire week off thinking I'd be hanging out with her. So I have no plans, nothing to do but sit around the house and mope. I go three days without eating. Bitch totally ruined the Raiders-Pats Snow Bowl game for me. It's the worst week of my life.

Over the next couple years she continues to find ways to pop into my life just when I had gotten over her. Because of this, she's earned the nickname "Devilwoman." There are about six people I've met in my 31 years on this earth that I wish nothing but misery for. She's around No. 3 on the list.
Finally, I meet the woman who would become my wife about three years ago now. We got married in May. I'm over Devilwoman completely, other than wishing she moves into a trailer park, has six kids, weighs 250 pounds, lives on welfare and has a three bag a day meth habit. And the trailer park gets hit by a tornado.
Then, last week, a freaky thing happens. Devilwoman's mother gets a job in our ad department. Her mother is nice, and I never had a problem with her. But I'm feeling awkward around her, because I'm resisting the urge to ask how her bitch of a daughter is. I'm afraid if she says, "She's OK, but she really doesn't like it up there," I'll laugh my ass off. Or, more likely, if the answer is, "She's great. She has a son, a good job, yada yada," I'll be pissed off because it's good news.

 

Man, that is fucked up. At least you married the woman of your dreams, though.

Edit: Saving this one in case batman decides to delete it.

 

I don't know about acrimonious break-ups, but in the early days of e-mail and the internets, I had a good laugh from a break-up of sorts. At Ball State, they had some sort of primative e-mail system. I never used it. Even when profs sent me shit over it, I never saw it.

During my final semester I had to use it for some class project and found several messages that were several years old. One of them was from a girl who was a drunken regret on my part. It had literally been years since I had even seen her, but the message said something like, "I'LL NEVER LET YOU TOUCH THIS AGAIN YOU SON OF A BITCH! I HOPE YOU FUCKING GET HIT BY A TRUCK AND DIE YOU BASTARD!"

I wouldn't have been that funny had it been a day later, but several years later, I thought it was hilarious. The dipshits in the computer lab role-playing Star Trek were not pleased by my laughter.