Was it her that couldn't take the hint, or me?
Many years ago (well, four) I met my first 'proper' girlfriend. It all started when I went to a party that her and her friend (whom I knew from the Internet) were throwing at her boyfriends house.

For some inexplicable reason we started talking, and I gave her my MSN address. All well and good.

Except that the next day she added me. And during the course of our first conversation she made it very clear that 'I'm happy with my boyfriend but if we ever split up then I want to have sex with you.'

Guess what? Three weeks later, I got a phone call. "*Sniff* We've split up. I need some time away. Can I come and stay with you?"

She did, and things took their course. I lost my virginity 20 times over that day.

Then I found out that she wanted to go back home to her boyfriend. At this point, alarm bells started ringing. I investigated further, and as it so happens they never broke up at all - just had a minor tiff. The boyfriend had no idea of her intentions towards me. Oh, bugger.

The whole thing repeated itself every month that year, and by this point my parents were starting to get pissed off at providing temporary accomodation for a crazy goth girl. So what did I do? Take the sensible option and tell her to fuck off?

No, I started squatting a house with a few of my friends.

She came to stay with me at the squat. We had fantastic sex, as always. It was bliss...

...for about 3 days. Then one night she screamed at me, out of the blue and in full earshot of our housemates, "YOUR DICK IS TOO SMALL!"

Hmm. OK, love.

I then found myself driving her between mine and her 'other boyfriend's' house on a daily basis. Every time I saw her, we argued from the moment I picked her up to the moment I dropped her off the next day.

Yet every time she phoned me, I came to help her. I loved her, I really did. It got to the stage where we would sleep in motorway service areas in the back of my freezing cold Transit van, because I couldn't afford to drive home and back again.

She was driving me mental. I was almost trying to get her to hate me just so she'd leave me alone and I could work out what was wrong with me (her, as I now know). I dropped her in the middle of Manchester at 3 in the morning once instead of driving her to where she wanted to go. I screamed at her on a daily basis and my rage grew to such huge proportions that it scared me - I would find myself shaking and crying after every meeting. I even (and this is the one thing I feel really bad about) slept with one of her friends. I don't know why I did it.

So, should I have told her to fuck off, and actually stuck to my guns and stopped going to see her? I wanted to, but I just couldn't.

That was one of the most confusing times in my whole life.

Appologies for length - she certainly thought I needed to appologise, anyway.

It's 4 in the morning and I'm on my 10th can of beer, so I apologise for the long-winded self-indulgent speil. And I'm not a fucking emo either.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Sun 8 Jun 2008, 3:53, 3 replies)

Sounds
Pretty rough situation.

It is indeed 4 in the morning. And on my Nth drink.

Huzzah!
( Cawl, Sun 8 Jun 2008, 4:00, closed)

For four in the morning
and on your 10th beer, that was very well written. I'd be mashing the keyboard and hoping for the best. Actually, I'd be in A&E hooked up to a drip after ten beers, but I'm a lightweight!

*clickyhug*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sun 8 Jun 2008, 10:32, closed)

it's 3 in the afternoon
and I'm on my 1st cup of coffee.

I am all teh jealous.
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 14:54, closed)