Well, it's a big fat 'no' from me. I am gladdened and saddened by this.

I've done the drink-in-face twice, both times at my ex-common-law. My god, no-one before or since has been able to piss me off so much. I also smashed a glass on the floor once in a fit of fury with same ex. (I'm really not given to such displays, but gawd.)

In one relationship, most of our arguments seemed to wind up in strip clubs or something similar. I've no idea why that was, but we'd be walking down the street, start to argue about something, decide to sit down and discuss it over a beer, and whatever place we walked into would turn out to have nekkid girls dancing in it (or, on one memorable occasion, be a tranny club). This would lead to such surreal exchanges as, me: "Wow, that woman looks really bored." him: "Would you stop looking at the stage and get back to the subject at hand?" me: "Sorry. It's just that she looks so astoundingly bored. It's kinda fascinating, in a train-wreck sort of way. You were saying?"

I was also, unbeknownst to me at the time, the one phone call for a particularly awful bf, at about 3am. "Hi, honey, it's me." "Fuck off!" *slam* Cop: "Wow, you're really popular there. Guess you're spending the night with us."

Fortunately, I've also dated some wonderful men. My most recent ex is a stellar human being, as were several others (including strip club guy, in retrospect).

I'd have to say no.

I once dumped a guy with the line, "It's not you... it's me". Does that count?

chrismear, you should be grateful, actually.

in my case, there were a haze of years in the 18-25 range when I was all trying to be PUNK AS FUCK!!! I think this may explain a few things.

or not.

the amazing part (for me) was that I never actually got drunk-dialled until age 35, compliments of my (most recent) batshitinsane x who was also the recipient of the restraining order.

elizard: strip club guy sounds a bit like the x I was LTR with for ten years... he was the one who'd incite scenes in random places like busy airport terminals. Also a stellar guy, just not the stellar guy for me.

I had the chance to do something awesomely awful to a boyfriend of mine who truly deserved it, but passed on it...here is the scenario: He had informed me that he was going out of town with his folks on Easter weekend, here was his house key, could I feed their cat? Mind you I was too clueless to realize his folks would have found their own arrangements for this cat, but whatever...he was a gorgeous Maine Coon cat, really nice cat. (this is relevant.)

I was hanging out at said house, reading some of Boyfriend's books, when friend of bf came over and informed me that bf was REALLY with another gal in another state.

What this meant, besides him being a cheater, was this:

A: I HAD THE HOUSEKEY.
B: I HAD POSSESSION OF THE CAT.
c: HIS VERY WORLD WAS IN MY HANDS AT THAT MOMENT. REMEMBER, HIS FOLKS THOUGHT HE WAS HOME, WITH THE CAT.

I loved that cat. Therefore I did make sure he got back inside the house and had food and water.

I went home. With the key. And waited.

Phone rung. Oh, could I come over? With the key?

Friend had informed him I had full information.

I met him at the house where his friend proceeded to tell him what an ass he was. I gave him back the key. I never told his folks. The cat was in good shape.

And I didn't even break up with him, till later.


Years and years later, part of me is happy I took the high road. And part of me wishes I'd told his folks who would have had an utter cow that a strange woman had free run of their home. Even tho it was a trustworthy one.

After all, their son had been allowed to LIVE.

I forgot...I did do one thing. He had a tarot deck that no one but him was allowed to touch.

I had removed a card from it during that weekend, tore it up, and tossed it out of my car somewhere. Didn't tell him till later.

THAT conversation was scary.

None of the above. Of course, I've only dated four women. I offer this bit of weirdness thought: Each successive relationship has been approximately half the length of the one before, with the first being about 10 moths of being officially dating, after knowing each other for two months.

moths months

I had to change my phone number after a (now ex-) boyfriend's other girlfriend put my phone number in some very nasty places.

Hired movers to get rid of another live-in boyfriend...while he was out of town. Had a cab waiting for him when he got back from the airport. And my best bud's great big husband was there, too.

Then was the "security" for that best bud when she left her great big husband and they had to divvy up their stuff. Fighting over an ice cream scoop set them off. *shakes head*

Other than that, pretty tame life.

One of my exes liked to do naughty things with an ice cream scoop. I knew what she'd been up to when I'd come over and it was in the dish washer.

2. Passed out while having sex once (oops) and while attempting to have sex in a car in a Rite-Aid parking lot. (Intoxication was involved both times.)

3. I didn't start the fight, but I was determined to finish it. Got into a giant screaming match with psychotic ex in a quaint suburban neighborhood. Ended up with me dinging my parents' car real bad on a stone mailbox when I was trying to leave his ass behind. (Parents didn't mind because they hated the dude.) Ended up reconciling later and then throwing up because I realized how stupid I was.

4. I did the passive-aggressive thing and refused to return phone calls.

7. My roommate called campus security, who called the city cops, who served my (then boyfriend) with a persona non grata notice, which meant he couldn't come on campus anymore. (Roommate was doing this for my own good, it just sucked real bad at the time.)


Funny how all but one half of these involve the same dude. God that was a mistake from start to finish.

None of the above. I guess I have been lucky, albeit saddled with an uninteresting love life.

muddgirl: yes.

pie: awesome!

bunnyfire: yeah, you know, it's a good bet I'd have taken the high road too in that situation, if only because a mega-meltdown there would likely have incurred collateral damage (the cat, his parents, etc.). And I'm all about surgical strikes applied to the perp. What tended to happen a lot in my youth (and probably still to this day, if I'm pushed hard enough) is those sudden, incensed, inarticulate rages that lead one to hurl invective and inanimate objects.

sperose: oh, yes, indeed, I truly believe there are people in this world designed to bring out the worst in one. And the best, too, for that matter. I've been involved with both.

I always believe in giving someone a second chance, so after she came at me the second time with one of my good kitchen knives, I knew the marriage was truly over.

"I had removed a card from it during that weekend, tore it up, and tossed it out of my car somewhere." -- That is an all time classic.

Ardiril: kitchen knives are good. Farm implements are good, too. Someone I went to school with tried to RUN HER EX OVER WITH A COMBINE. It didn't work (those things are ginormous, slow and not very maneuverable, so he just jumped into their pickup truck and drove off).

my fave: when your nemesis truly, deeply feels the need to drag you down into the batshitinsanity with them. it's like a supermassive blackhole of crazy.

e.g. as an older (yet apparently no wiser) lfr, I found myself in a couple of altercations with the truly-deranged x, where I would be absolutely determined to remain calm and philosophical about trying to work thru whatever-it-was... and he'd go into full-bore meltdown "OMGWHYAREYOUSOFUCKINGCALMABOUTHISAAAAIIIEEEEEE!!!!!" mode, and hey, presto! we'd be off.

I'm saying no to all of them.
I feel like I've missed out on so much.

For many reasons we won't discuss here, I hatehatehate porn. Once, I was helping a BF move and found a picture of him with these two naked girls. They weren't doing anything really sexual, just posing and looking at the camera. He was sitting in a chair and they were all wrapped around him. The photo made me batshitinsane! I took the picture home with me, cut it up into a bajillion little pieces and took it to Europe a few weeks later. I disposed of it in various trash cans in the cities I visited. Months later, I found out it was a photo from his friend's bachlorette party - everyone had thier picture taken with the strippers.

Not sure how that really fits in here, but bunnyfire reminded me of it with her tarot card bit. I have also passed out in a bar bathroom, more than once.

Yes to #2, no to the rest.

My exes are married to my best friend from college, a born again Christian housewife and a lesbian, respectively.

In college, I once found myself drunk on Jagermeister dancing at a blues club in East St. Louis without my shoes, accompanied by a hot Spanish exchange student named Victor. (Yes, it sounds exactly like a Tom Waits song.) How I got to East St. Louis in the first place, much less back home again, remains a mystery. And whatever happened to my shoes (super cute vintage black suede pumps with Louis XIV heels)? I cannot say.

Among LOTS of other things I had the Bosie who was using me at Emerson "borrow" his first months rent from me--then tell me his GF said I wasn't welcome in the place. This guy deserves to be shot in the face for what he did to me.

I almost got into a bar fight with the "other woman." Who turned out to be a man.

(this was years ago, nothing to do with recent events)

I did pass out once during sex, having enough conciousness to say "This is nice, but can we finish later? I think I'm going to pass...."

I met a "nice" guy in a bar once. He actually came up to me while I was with my friends, we all chatted, and he asked for my number. We spoke over the phone several times. He told me he had a female roommate (warning bell #1), but that it was okay to call the house - they were just friends. So I missed his call about an upcoming date and called him back. His roommate answered, asked who I was, then proceeded to tell me that they were living together, NOT as roommates, and that he was ALSO married to another woman who lived up north!!! So I told her what he'd told me, and she was quite appreciative that I did. We hung up the phone, because he was just coming home. I never heard from him again.

And there was that one unfortunate (for my ex) Christmas morning, picking up my kids from their dad's. He was in a mood, and began harassing me from the moment I got there, and the kids were no where near ready to leave. Things got heated, he grabbed my coat and tried pulling me. The kids were crying, one of them was sitting on the floor between us, and I lost it. I sort of growled "Don't you pull me over my son!" and split my ex's lip. (we did apologize to the kids together and to each other). I must say, I felt fabulous!!

The worst story was a guy I had a second date with who was still hung up on his ex-wife who had a drinking problem (according to him). He was not for me, but seemed cool with that, (I gave him the old, hey, we can still be friends speech and we had a nice time at dinner) until I got a call from the cops the day after our date. He'd left me, to his wife's house, and beat her up. He called an ambulance, and told them that she'd fallen down the stairs. The hospital determined that she'd been beaten, and when the police arrived at his house to question him, they found that he'd stabbed himself. Repeatedly. And died. I was treated to a lengthy questioning as to his frame of mind that night. It was so freaky because he was nice, calm, and...normal.

Dang, redvixen. That was....wow. Just wow.

Double Dang, redvixen.

Me? Only #3. I was the Queen of #3 in undergrad, and the instigator. Most memorable: going after my ex with a baseball bat at a department softball game. Runner up? Crawling out of a bathroom window at a party, vomiting on his car door handle, and waiting for hours in the bushes to see him come out with the girl he was chatting up to see his reaction. Friends spent hours and hours looking for me, and it's a minor miracle I walked home through the no zoning streets of New Orleans without incident.

Good times.

I was a fighter all through childhood. I stopped when I was 21. I remember calling my undergrad roomie one night so proud of myself that I had been SO ANGRY at someone, and didn't hit her. She was supportive.

And that was that, I had grown out of it. I never took a swing at anyone after that, and I'm sure I never will again.

p.s. - I've passed out in the backseat of a car, but no sex was involved.

I can't believe I'M the one that killed this thread. I'm not THAT crazy. It was a long time ago. C'mon!

I'll try, rainbaby, but I might be too boring to resuscitate the thread.

1) I don't even like to spill a drink.

2)
2a) Yeah, to at least one of those, and to some similar examples. Dating never had much to do with it, though.

3) I try to stay out of major public scenes. Not always effectively.

4) Nope.

5) 'Unavailable'? Absolutely.

6) Nah.

7) Nope. Though I usually try to date people who

1-7: Not yet! But there's plenty of time!

I really have a long way to go before I can hope to match any of you.

no, yes, yes, yes, not exactly, no, no, no.

wow, I'm frankly amazed that I can only answer yes to one of these - considering the fact that I'm a total drama queen and I drink to excess.

Wilder: yea, well, there was a period in my life when I was pretty convinced that I was some kind of industrial-strength jerk-magnet.

In hindsight, a lot had to do with my self-esteem and anger management issues. Took me years to learn how to say "no" and I'm still learning, in fact. Going along with absolutely everything and anything (well at least until the point where a personal morality/safety crisis is reached, that is) gives you the reputation of being a "good sport" amongst your friends, but also tends to land you in the soup a fair amount if you don't have the added bonus of a good bullshit filter.

jessamyn: hee! and thanks :)

casarkos: I dunno if this is a list you really wanna compete for. Sure it's kinda fun to look back on but the actual accumulation phase is ZERO FUN AT ALL lemme tell ya.

CitrusFreak: EMBRACE your feelings, my young apprentice... *makes with the Palpatine-esque chortle*

box: lol! you can consider it boring, or quite wise, your choice.

rainbaby: Well if you were the Queen of #3, maybe I was the Duchess or something. I maybe didn't instigate as much shit but OH MY GOD did I readily get *involved* in it. I had (still have, actually) a pair of 20-eyelet Docs that were pretty much made for kicking redneck/skinhead ass(holes) with, good times.

redvixen: o_O

desjardins: other woman was a MAN? holy fuck that trumps everything!

scody: I had shoes like that too! perhaps it was me who stole them... wait, nope, on review, mine weren't suede. *waits impatiently for Louis-heeled shoes to come back 'in'* Because if all the disgustingly horrible shit like high waist jeans / tunic tops does, we deserve the awesome stuff like Louis heels and palazzo pants, too...

youngergirl: It's all about context. See, porn doesn't bug me, but unexplained pics of my dude with any nekkid girlies would probably have incited a similar response, especially in my young-and-crazy days. The fact that you took the bits to EUROPE to dispose of them, tho... *tips hat in respect*.

I passed out in a bar bathroom just last night!

I broke up with someone via email earlier this year, but it's not as harsh as it sounds. We had been dating for a couple of months, but saw each other only occasionally and weren't an official couple. We liked each other a lot. But he was going to be moving to NYC in a month, and I was afraid of becoming too attached, so I broke it off. He was fine with my doing so via email. We're still friends, and I even visited him a few months ago when I was in New York. However, I had to get a friend to go with me so that I wouldn't be tempted to go home with him.

I JUST remembered that I once passed out in the trunk area of my friend's Jeep Cherokee, on the way back from a bar.

I am SO boring.