Valentine's Day - makes you think of romance, right? Not always.Now for me, I've had my share of bad ex stories. I had one that literally left me in a Kroger parking lot in Detroit, and while that was pretty bad, I have a few more.  I won't name any names, but in the spirit of sharing, I thought I'd get you in the spirit of Valentine's spite.

Once upon a time, I was young and naive (hard to believe, I know).  I had a boyfriend in high school that I had a huge crush on.  It was one of those things where teenage crushes live and die, you know how that works.  Well, I had been with this dude for about eight months or so (an eternity in high school time) and it was completely innocent.  I was totally smitten and he was just not very demonstrative in his affections, holding my hand was a once in a month thing if I was lucky.  Well, he decided he'd had enough of my silly butt and dumped me with a poorly spelled note at the beginning of school two weeks before prom.

I was just dying with teenage melodrama, and didn't know how to keep myself from crying stupidly all day.  He had told me he didn't want to go to prom because of the expense and all the riff raff associated with it, so when another boy asked me to go, I said yes.  He then promptly went with another girl as friends, so it was pretty obvious that it wasn't that he didn't want to go to prom... he just didn't want to go with ME.

A few years later I was in college, living the dream. Since I had pretty much only had relationships like that one, not hugely important in the long run, stuff like that.  Well, I had a big dream to study abroad at that time.  I finally got to go to the UK my sophomore year of college.  I was all of 19 years old, on my own for the first time.  I lived in the dorms, lived off scholarships and behaved like any other kid out of the nest.  I had a boyfriend over there who was English and a bit older (about ten years).  He was a private music teacher and I was beside myself with the usual true lurrrve.

Well, we dated  the entire time I was there (a little under a year) and I made my way back to the states that next summer.  When the day came, and it was time for me to get back on the plane, I had everything ready.  I was reluctant to go because I liked England and I thought I loved him, but it was time to go home.  I had every intention at the time of going back, eventually, but legally I had to go then because my Visa was up.  So anyway, I was preparing to go the night before, and I had my purse with my passport, ticket, and all that stuff in there.  The next morning we loaded the stuff in his car  and he was nice enough to drive me to the airport.  About twenty minutes into the drive I looked in my bag and found my passport was gone.  I panicked.  I had no idea where it could have went, and freaked out majorly.  He turned the car around and I tore up his little house trying to find it for about an hour.  Finally, as I sat down on the couch, defeated, crying and worried about getting in trouble, out came the truth.

"Um, I have something to tell you."

I was waiting for something maybe reassuring or some other option I hadn't known about that he knew about international travel.

"I.......... have your passport.  I took it out of your bag and hid it.  I thought maybe if you didn't have it, I could convince you to stay."

I was livid.  I think you can imagine what was going through my head.  Either way, he handed over the passport and I barely made the plane. We tried to do the long distance thing for a while but it didn't work out, I found myself unable to continue.

Here's one final story to tide you over til Tuesday.  I had another boyfriend a couple of years ago (this was pretty much right before Husbando), and when this story took place, we were about eight months into a serious relationship.  I basically lived with him; my address may have been elsewhere but my toothbrush was at his house,  you know how it is.  We were happy for a long time, and he wanted to move me in permanently but I held back a little.

So anyway, this particular night, we were hanging out at his house on a cold weekend night, free from any obligations or young ones, just two adults chilling out like anybody would.  He had asked me to go and make him a drink; an adult beverage, involving orange juice and a little something something extra.  So I, being the obliging girlfriend, got up to go get it.  I made the drink and brought it back to the living room.  I handed it to him and he said, AND I QUOTE: "You better not make me any more of these, or I'm gonna find you attractive."

OUCH.

He gave me one of those "I'm just kidding" apologies, but I think you can figure out what happened from there.  A few months later, that was it.  And now, I'm MARRIED, and that hasn't produced any cringing stories, but I'll keep you posted if any come up.

Relationship-ily yours,
Behka

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