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This is a question Crappy relationships

"Recently," Broken Arrow tells us, "The missus informed me that her brother was moving with us." What has your partner done that's convinced you the magic's gone? "Breathe" is not an answer.

(, Thu 21 Oct 2010, 12:33)
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my very silly friend
i dont see it myself but one of my best friend's has a way with the ladies.

at university, he decided he couldnt stay with his girlfriend and keeping doing the long distance. but he did love her (aww!) and whenever he saw her again, he couldnt help seeing her.

this did not stop him seeing other girls.

one girl decided to give him a love bite and it showed up like fireworks show up on bonfire night.

his cunning plan? wrap a scarf around his neck. and no, it did not work.

strangely enough, this girl did not go running for the hills for many months to come. but, i still love his nerve.
(, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 1:45, Reply)
absolute relationship killer
when your boyfriend's mum says 'you know, x's father and i were eighteen when we met too'
(, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 1:34, Reply)
first girlfriend
one day she wouldn't let me stick my hands under her top, which was a bit odd considering she was usually well up for it. I chalked it down to being at her house for a while, as we rarely ever went to hers. she seemed quiet though, and after a couple of hours I asked about it.

Turns out she had, the day prior, dismantled a razor and cut her chest up quite badly, right between her tits. She showed me, and when I asked why, rather flabbergasted, she said she'd 'just felt like it'. That was it.

Should have got out then, instead of spending another 3 years with her.
(, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 0:16, Reply)
"Thing is, I've kind of been sleeping with someone else. But I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you..."
Oh. Well that makes it all-fucking-right-then. Lunatic girls: the main reason I'm single...
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 20:16, 19 replies)
Inconsistent much?
The worst relationship of mine, after the grotesque, paranoid bitch from Clacton with her marriage proposals and attempts to trap me was with one particularly childish girl. I shan't get into the details of why the relationship was shit, as it's fairly mundane reading, but I thought I would share this little aspect of her.

She was disgusted by bodily fluids. At the age of 20 she had not masturbated or touched herself once because she thought her fluids were vile. A bit OCD, she had dry skin from constantly washing her hands - she was a bit scared of germs, along with what came out of her body (and mine) it would seem. It was rather unsexy to see her, after sex, getting up and running to the bathroom, clutching her horribly unshaven, untrimmed vagina, moaning in disgust, horrified at the thought of anything dripping onto the floor.

So I thought it a bit inconsistent the time we were eating a roast dinner and her cat crept up onto the table, proceeded to lick a roast potato and lap up some gravy, before she gently shooed the cat away and continued to eat until the plate was clear.

Even the offending potato. We broke up not long after that.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 19:19, 2 replies)
Public Service Announcement
Never be afraid to call the cops, even if the person you're calling about is going to lie about what you did. Trust me, it's nothing they haven't seen before.

And bad advice is right (a few stories down) -- there are good ones out there. Just keep looking. I still remain hopefully I will find one as sane as my late.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 19:04, Reply)
Pete L'oaf for some reason reminded me of this
It's the "telling lies to friends" bit.

About two years after the fiancee died, I met her via the web-- she was into vinyl clothes, BDSM and was a fake ginger. I went to her place for dinner, and she got mad because I was a gentleman and didn't even sit next to her in the livingroom. She didn't invite me to sit by her because that was MY job. Honestly, I was years out of the dating and was relearning.

She's out of work, laid off as a programming for cellphones in a language that cellphones no longer used (c pipe?). She refuses to move out of trendy (expensive) Oak Lawn, goes through her retirement fund and a lot of dad's, refuses to move to another place when offered work, and made some money by selling goth-type items online.

Anyway, one night I show up with a friend when I find out she likes ginger boys with long hair, and he fit the bill (when you saw them from behind, you had to realize she was the heavier one to tell them apart). We go out drinking, and I fall asleep in her bed. They make out in the living room. He confesses on the way home--no problem, I sort of set them up. It's cool.

They date, and she turns out to be insanely jealous of his toddler daughter. He gets a job where he's traveling for training and might move across the US and closer to said daughter. He's working 60+ hours a week and night shifts and otherwise sleeping, although he does have a drinking problem.

I start hearing the stories about him having affairs (one suspect being the hotel clerk that answered the phone when psycho-gf called) and so on. When he finally does shuck her and move to Virginia, I start hearing how he gave her VD, probably from the woman he was dating before her. Last time I heard from her via Yahoo chat, she said she was glad he was married and hopes he is happy and she is happy, too.

I don't know how she found he was married or whether she was bluffing, but I neither confirmed nor denied. I typed I was glad she had moved on and hoped she had a good life, then put her on ignore.

I dodged that bullet, and thankfully he forgave me for setting him up with her.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 19:01, Reply)
thought i'd pinch this one off my friend evie
who has had more disastrous dates than anyone else i know. but this particular dude whom she had met in a petrol station of all places sounded quite promising. super-simon. super-simon was good-looking, if a little ginger, funny, nice, had a good job and his own flat, hair and teeth. and for the first few weeks, it all sounded wonderful.

then one friday night we were out for dinner. two bottles of sancerre down, and evie was looking unusally thoughtful. running her finger around the top of her wineglass, she said,

"swipe, you're the blowjob queen. can i ask you something?"

i remembered that she had once thrown up mid blow-job. it wasn't the first time she had asked for help on this particular topic. so i looked around. the other tables were empty enough and i was pissed enough to attempt a demonstration on the bottle if needed. "sure."

"well, it's about super-simon," she said. oh. this was not going to be as amusing as watching evie deep-throat a bottle. i guzzled more wine. "the thing is," she said, "we've never actually had sex."

"but i thought you'd been sleeping over there?" christ, how slutty were my morals that i had assumed this meant white-hot sweaty monkeysex (albeit nothing to do with bert). evie looked even more unhappy.

"yes. the thing is, i really like him. but... after i've given him a blow-job, he just strokes my hair and says 'mmm thank you, that was naughty'. then he falls asleep. i was just wondering how i can move it on."

MMM THANK YOU, THAT WAS NAUGHTY???? FOR EIGHT WEEKS??? as you can imagine, i had many suggestions how she could move it on. and as you can imagine, evie ignored them all. three weeks later he dumped her and got back with his ex.

apologies for rambling, i have the world's worst hangover.

(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 18:05, 7 replies)
13 years we had been married
this past September.

For our wedding anniversary she gave me a bar. It was a bar that looked like a very nice cupboard, that sat in the corner nondescript, classy but not over stated but, when you opened the doors, it had 10 places to store bottles of hard booze, a 24 bottle wine rack, draws, glasses storage a few shelves and a top the folded out to make a wide serving area. To the untrained eye, you can't tell what it is (so I don't look like I have a pub in my lounge room).

For fathers day, she let the kids buy me booze (well she paid for it, directed them to the top shelf stuff and wrapped it up but, they handed it over).

She still enjoys and wants regular quality sex, she takes care of herself, she looks great, she is nice to my friends, doesn't have horrid skanks as mates. She has her own career, her own life. She supports me in more ways than one (and I hope she feels that I do the same for her).

She gives me a hard time when I am a slacker, she won't let me turn into a slob, she tells me when I am wrong and she helps me to see balance when I am on a rant.

13 years married, 2 years before dating etc, 2 kids, 3 countries, doesn't get too fired up that I think her sister is an out and out fuckwit and puts up with my cockfuck of a brother.

I am pleased to say, the magic is still well and truly strong and nowhere near gone.

So, amongst the nut cases, psychopaths, violent assholes and sad cases this week, don't give up, there are some sensational partnerships out there, and I am pleased beyond stoked that I have one. Don't settle for shit and don't give up.

A little upbeat for this weeks not so upbeat tales.

Sorry about the lack of funnies.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 14:51, 9 replies)
I know it's over
Still I cling. I don't know where else I can go.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 14:16, 14 replies)
Move in with a girl just because she sucks your penis.

Actually maybe this should go in the top tips section.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 13:48, 3 replies)
I think I knew it was over
when he broke my jaw in three places and partially detached the retina in my right eye. But it didn't end when he went to prison for it. Mortgage companies don't seem to care about reasons you are struggling; just that you aren't paying. By taking on two extra jobs I managed to get by: no WAY was I losing my home as well.
Not long after his release, I was burgled. Then my tyres were slashed. Then someone posted me a dead rat. Luckily I have strong support around me and it has been all quiet for a few years now.
But I'll stay single, thanks.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 13:39, 3 replies)
A feminist issue....
We hadn't been getting on at all well for several weeks. As a private joke to myself I had a selective ringtone on my nokia that made a pathetic kind of whining sound whenever she called. Yes, childish.

She found out, went mental and I promised to change it. Except I didn't. Not nice, but it certainly brought some deep issues to the surface. We were both at a friends party and for some reason she rang me. Cue whining ringtone, and ultimately, public recriminations.

When we got back home from the party she said it was a feminist issue (perhaps it is?). Then went absolutely berserk and stated that my ringtone was reinforcing the gender stereotype of the whining girlfriend. Then tried to punch me in the face.

She didn't even see the irony.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 12:07, 8 replies)
this is too painful to go into
which is funny because that's the same thing she said about her arse.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 11:42, Reply)
After the first nut job, I ended up finding a second.
I posted earlier about a previous nutter who I was rather besotted with. She had apparantly suffered past abuse with rape etc. Then proceeded a 4 year hell of a life where she just ponced off me whilst being in relationships with other girls.

Anyway after that one, I actually got a decent girl. For some reason I'll never konw, I dumped her. Awesome girl she was, but it was a long distance job and I cant be bothered with those.

So next up came another psycho. I dont know why, I seem to attract them. Once again, abuse in the past, and a few screws loose in the mental department. Having spent the four years with the previous nutter, I was well prepared for it. I had seen everything! Or so I thought. Like the previous girl. This one also enjoyed taking razor blades to herself to relieve her mental anguish. Except this one time, she decided to carve my initials in her boob. Yes you read that right. To this day she most probably still has the scar of my initials on her breast!

Worst of all. Her mother saw it. Then accused ME of doing it! accusing me of being some weiredo into "tagging" my girlfriends. Like I was some sorta BDSM Master! Err noo! So uproared a row about how they chose to ignore their daughters problems bla bla bla. Bye!
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 11:31, 1 reply)
My (now) Ex read The Ethical Slut
now slutting it up in Bath. say hi for me!

I love books but I would gladly fling this one on a bonfire
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 10:52, Reply)
In the glory days of texting where you could only send 160 characters
A "fun" (i.e. bit of a munter, ginger & she had no areoli) texted me every day with a "x", increasing by one every day.

We finished when she hit her character limit - on day 161.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 10:04, Reply)
you know its over when
The armed police are coming up the stairs
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 9:46, Reply)
Well - you know when a boy and a girl are far too stubborn to admit they like each other, so just let alcohol fuelled meetings run their course and then go back to telling their mates they were "just friends"?
Never a steady basis for anything, especially when youre already official ex's. But that was the setup, and this was the story of an emotionally battering Spring.

These meetings rolled on and up for around 3 months - the female side of this story goes on holiday, leaving the male to throw his love machine around for 2 weeks.
"What man?! Its not like im actually with her is it?!"
She gets back - she isnt happy Mr. has been fooling around elsewhere, and makes it known with big huffs. (Later huffs from the fallout of this story are for another QOTW - domestic violence anyone?)

Time passes, she goes on another holiday. This time coming back with boyfriend in tow. Mr. of the story is pissed off, but says nothing. Then she asks him to come out again - this cant be right.
Alcohol fuelled meeting leads to what it always did, and Mr. is deciding he really quite likes Ms. - Spills all to a close friend at a party. Close friend has a word with Ms. - stop screwing Mr. Around.

Weeks later, ms. brings this word up in a drunken strop - "How can you tell anybody I cheated?!" type lark - this escalates into a full blown shouting match in the middle of a party, ms. retreating to somebody she doesnt even know that well's mothers room, mr. punching a hole through a door before being taken out for some air by the surprisingly understanding homeowners son.

No word was shared between the two for around a year (in which the male was absolutely torn to shreds over it all) - and now theyre speaking again.
And heading the same way again... will t(HE)y never learn?
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 2:42, 1 reply)
my tale of woe
This tale of human misery is, to my eternal shame, all true & untold to random internet persons until this moment. Enjoy. I know I didn't.

The magic was gone when I unexpectedly reacquainted my then wife's boss with his dentist when I punched him (her boss, not the dentist) squarely in the gob. Shortly followed by telling my boss to stick his job up his arse.

I'd explain it all its gruesome detail, but you get the gist, the age old story of a man & wife working for a pharma company in Cambridge & the man finds out his wife & her boss had been shagging on the company dime. In various locations. One of which being his desk at work. When his boss knew what was going on but said or did nothing. As did his colleagues. For, ooh, I don't know, the last year or so lets say.

I suppose in hindsight I had a vague sense of unease that something was not right, I put it down to the shitty coffee they served at work. I had no idea what was waiting for me round the corner, ready to bludgeon me to an emotional pulp & then having its solicitor remove my wallet from my jacket pocket via my anus.

We tried to patch things up, a fools errand but the marriage was like the proverbial Monty Python parrot, & we divorced almost three years ago after many fun filled adventures with such wonderful people as marriage guidance, the CSA & an especially nice bunch of cadaverous leeches known as 'her solicitors'

Given the amount of money she got, you'd have thought it would have been worth a get well card when I was in hospital not so long back, with my head strapped to a particle accelerator. Obviously not.

I tried dating for a while after the divorce but made a right mess of it, firstly having not dated since 1985, secondly because I was pretty crap at it in 1985 anyway & thirdly pretending I was alright when I was anything but (sorry Tamara. I should have stayed home the night we met)

Today? I work during the week in Paris now, the city of love. My arse. I break out in a cold sweat when I try to chat up women & my sex life is reduced to rubbing one out when the couple in the flat above me are banging away louder than a barn door in a gale. Or at least I was until last week, when I found out I'd been masturbating to the frenzied lovemaking of two gay frenchmen.

Still, I've got a sense of humour about it now. Its just about visible with a microscope. I ate my lunch on that desk for christ sake.

Length? At least two feet by the sounds of it.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 1:41, 5 replies)
Does anyone else get the impression
that there's one man and one woman who between them have been out with everyone on b3ta?
(, Sun 24 Oct 2010, 1:27, 3 replies)
Probably missing the opportunity for a fantastic rickroll, but.......
this is my ex girlfriend in full on drunken rage (and yes that is the windscreen of a honda she's trying to kick out)

(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 22:30, 27 replies)
They are all out to get Me
Hindsight is a clear, clear thing.

On the rebound from a perfectly nice man I completely fell for and went out with a woman I met in a fetish club ten years my senior. My friends seemed a bit quiet when she was around. Looking back- they were TERRIFIED. I had never felt so amazing though, I was besotted and (again looking back) completely blind.

After a whirlwind of great sex and a deep philosophical connection she became extremely insecure and suddenly everything I did was wrong-then the hallucinations started- then she started being paranoid about my friends. To cut an overlong story short one of the many last straws that convinced me the magic was gone was when she explained that the people she was living with were putting something in the water to keep her quiet. Eventually I just ran away, on Easter Sunday. I left my chocolate and most of my sanity behind.

She disappeared after that. I wonder what happened to her almost every day.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 21:12, 1 reply)
mr-lizard reminds me of my own worst hangover
the morning after news of my divorce reached me.

I was living in Hungary at the time and went out on the ale immediately to celebrate.

Never was so drunk in my life - I'm told I fell into a deep snowdrift and had to be dug out before I froze to death - but next morning it was a while before the hangover kicked in.

Just as I started feeling smug, the pain hit me. I spent the rest of the day crawling around the floor whimpering and vomiting, to my flatmates' huge amusement.

The main alcoholic culprits were Absolut vodka and some form of fiendish Finnish vodka. My first marriage was officially Absolutely Finnished, and so was I, for the rest of the say.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 20:53, 2 replies)
If You Leave Me I'll Kill Myself! (X3)
My first two relationships were a couple of corkers. My first girlfriend was suicidal and twice tried to top herself whilst in my presence, by taking all of the paracetamol in the house. My 'fondest' memories of her involve trying to keep her locked in the lounge while she screamed and wailed like a banshee in an attempt to break out and reach the painkillers. Nice. Oh, and then she left me for her best friend, having slept with her behind my back. Lovely.

My second foray into the world of romance involved a suicidal bulimic who would regularly try and use emotional blackmail to make me choose between me and our mutual best friend at the time. Long story short, I told her to get lost - despite threats that she would kill herself - and emotional blackmail no longer has any effect on me. (She was seen alive and well several years later, so clearly, she failed in killing herself as badly as she failed in being a good girlfriend. She also dated Girlfriend #1 for a while. What a match.)

Then there was the guy who I slept with, foolishly thinking that I was dating him - only to realise he was having his end away with just about anyone else he fancied, but if I refused to come and meet him somewhere, he threatened suicide, too. (Also last seen alive and well within the past year.)

I also came out of a long-term relationship with a guy last year after - having lived with him for a year and a half - he asked if it would be okay to live separately? Er, no. Oh, and he also left me paying a joint mortgage for a house by myself. Thanks!

...wait, maybe I'M the crappy one... bollocks!
(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 20:41, Reply)
she was a ginger goth with unshaven legs
Need I say more.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 19:58, 6 replies)
Let's be honest. The magic went
as soon as the kids got to suck her tits instead of me.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 19:09, 4 replies)
Crappy relationships - Are there any other kinds?
I have yet to find any evidence whatsoever that any other sort than "crappy" exist.

To date a few of the highlights have been a massively dysfunctional trustafarian with a nice enough kid but who was no longer allowed any credit cards by her folks. The first clue of the impending nightmare was when she called me up to tell me she had booked us a nice family holiday despite the fact we had only been seeing each other for a week (which hardly counts as being a family) and then she asked for my credit card details to pay for it. One golden memory was her screaming down the 'phone to a mate of mine's wife (she had grabbed some of the numbers from my mobile in case she ever wanted to use them against me later). She was socially quite well connected (on the surface of it anyway) and we did go to a few rather nice gatherings of the glitterati but I recall meeting some of her "friends" early on and now realise that they were all mouthing the words "run for your life" to me...

Next in line was another great looker but who started referring to herself in the third person and using the voice of a little girl (not a good thing for an early-promoted senior executive in her late thirties and not being a peado it was more than offputting in the bedroom). Bat-shit mental and utterly socially inept she also once went off on one when I went out to get us some shopping (she didn't know how to buy food). When I came back to the apartment she had used every single pot in the kitchen while she was trying to make beans on toast and was screaming about how she should not be forced into this sort of demeaning task. She also had a slight habit of getting shitfaced at social events and making a total arse of herself then screaming at me in the morning for the things she had done.


Strangely cathartic process there - apologies for the small rant.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2010, 17:27, 1 reply)

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