Never
go out with a girl to whom you lose an arm-wrestling contest. Me: a shade under six foot six, her: about five foot five, but built like a tank.

Things seemed to be going well at the start. Although she seemed a little reticent at first with the whole going out thing (given that the town she comes from is very catholic and very conservative) and strictly banned all mention of sex etc. I wasn't even allowed to take my trousers off. Even so I was prepared to tolerate this as at the time I was almost permanently drunk, so little Zapiola wasn't working well at all (we're talking rum for breakfast, vodka for lunch, assorted drinks and marijuana for dinner).

Anna*, however, despite my evident lack of worth as a boyfriend at the time, was really in to me. This was, to say the least, a little scary. At first she was very clingy, she would always sit near me and stop anyone else (especially females) coming near me or talking to me. Even my sister when she came to vist. Annoying, but not critical. However, I first realised things weren't going to plan when a close female friend came to stay. Anna punched her. Hard. Very very hard. There was blood everywhere.

Two days later I finally plucked up the (drunken) courage to dump her. We went to a bar and had the talk. Seemed to go well.

Two days later theres a banging at my front door at 3am. Anna is there, drunk, with a mad gleam in her eye. She literally pinned up against the wall, was coming on to me very heavily, and proceeded to put her hands down my boxershorts and take hold of my special area in a vice like grip.

We stayed like that for 40 minutes, with me on tip toes, with a drunk, insane, hulk hogan like woman in the position to rip off my balls if I displeased her. I don't quite remember how I talked her out of it, but the upshot was that it was clear that I was not allowed to dump her, and she spent the night at mine.

Clearly, my attempt to end the relationship had misfired somewhat. I realised dimly, through the haze of drink and drugs, that not only was I menaced by a girl who was stronger than me, but that the drinking and drug taking weren't helping my underlying fragile mental state. The point at which I realised that the relationship had to end is when I spent 17 hours sat under my desk, in a locked room, with a kitchen knife waiting for 'them' to try and get me.

So, how to do it? I tried again, talking to her. All this elicited was a further bout of hysteria, and her then (unbeknownst to me) stealing a spare key to my house and letting herself in in the early hours of the morning and 'surprising' me in bed. You can, of course, imagine the wonders this did for my sense of paranoia.

So, talking - out. Lets try hiding. I grew a beard. A long, straggly, split-ended, ginger beard (weird because my hair is brown - my mother maintains its because I'm half-Welsh), I stopped washing myself or my clothes. After a fortnight I hummed. I looked like a tramp, with glaring bloodshot eyes, the whiff of BO, vomit, and rum following me around everywhere. Friends were becoming concerned. Anna didn't give a shit.

Luckily, at this point, she had to go back to her home country for a month (something to do with her funding & her sisters wedding). Free from tyranny, I started to clean myself up. The beard was trimmed, clothes were washed, and I enjoyed some semblence of normality. Of course Anna was coming back, but I was sure that she would realise I was desparate to escape from her. Surely.

No. She'd had my name tattooed on her leg. She'd brought back wedding photos, commenting on how she'd like to get married. Clearly, something drastic was in order.

I ran away and hid like a little child. I went to stay with friends in London for a while and ignored all calls and texts. When I got back she was waiting for me at the station. I still don't know which one of my Quisling friends sold me out. We had a talk in the station cafe, and, Gods be praised, she said she wasn't sure if things were working. Given I'd been trying my hardest to make them not work over the past month and a half this was no surprise to me.

So, we had a 'break' as she termed it. Shortly afterwards I met a very nice Jewish girl (did I mention Anna was very catholic and hated Jews?) who I immediately began a short relationship (she was moving abroad shortly afterwards). Crazy Anna seemed to accept that this was the end of our relationship(I think she figured I was now tainted with Jewishness), but still checks up on me now and then (we live about 5 mins walk apart). Even though she's gone off me now (thank god) she is still extremely jealous of the girl I like now, and threatened to kill her.

Meh. Length etc. Tis working now.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:10, 4 replies)

I was
a bit scared reading that.

Fortunately, the only girl I've arm wrestled recently wasn't very good at it, and I won.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:43, closed)

OMG!
I used to arm wrestle guys I fancied.

It's no wonder my formative years were doomed in the love department.
( girlinthehole, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 19:35, closed)

Restraining
Order?
(sumoguy I don't need Culture, I need Explosives, Sat 7 Jun 2008, 21:18, closed)

Ginger beards
My ex had ginger bits in his beard, and his hair was jet black. Perhaps one of life's mysteries?
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Sun 8 Jun 2008, 17:52, closed)