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30 Days of Truth, Day 8

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30 Days of Truth, Day 08- Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

Hmm… 3 guesses and the first 2 don’t count…

Oh the dirty hippie. My worst boyfriend, ever. So bad, in fact… that I’m going to list a few re-caps… so you can all mock me publicly and schedule an intervention if I ever hang out with him again. (which would be right about when hell froze over)

Our first Valentine’s Day… we’d been dating for almost 6 months. He was supposed to make the reservations for dinner… but forgot. He picked me up at my mom’s house (she was babysitting for me) and handed me a water bottle with a single red rose in it… with a popsicle stick taped to the stem. It had broken, somehow….and he’d “fixed” it. I took it inside to my mom’s house and both my mother and sister looked at me blankly. I could see they were trying to gauge my reaction before they said anything.

K- Oh my.

M- It’s not the gift that counts, it’s the idea behind it.

J- All I can guess is that this is apparently the lone survivor… the other 11 must have died completely.

Our first Christmas together. I did the 12 Days of Christmas for him. You give someone a gift every day from the 13th of December, on. Some of it was self-serving. He had the worst sheets you’ve ever seen, and I did not want to sleep at his house until his bedding situation was less horrifying. I gave him Egyptian cotton sheets, new down pillows, down comforter, the whole 9. It was the only way in hell I was staying there. I also bought him a nice new Patagonia coat. He loved everything. Christmas morning rolls around, and he tosses something at me. I’m confused for a minute. It’s a coat… but it’s old school Patagonia. Turquoise, hot pink and lime green. With the $3.99 price tag from the Goodwill still dangling from the white collar. Good Lord in the morning, I’d die before I wore this atrocity.

S- The zippers broken but you can fix anything, I’m sure you can fix it.

J- Um… wow.

S- How funny, we both got each other coats for Christmas.

When I met his friends. He invited me to meet his friends after we’d been dating a few months. I was excited, put on a cute little black dress and heels- sweatshirt… nothing too over the top, but feminine and pretty. We got in the car and drove for what seemed like, forever. When we got to his friends house, it was pitch black and dark. All you can hear is the loud whine of a generator and bad bad music. They’re all holding a joint, playing with a rolling machine and the smoke is so thick and heavy in the air that you can’t breath standing just inside what appears to be some sort of lean to shelter constructed on the back of a garage? Go figure. I’m the only one that doesn’t smoke- and the only one in shoes… let alone heels. I’m boiling mad at him for letting me over dress to meet the brigade of stoner hippies. He’s getting ripped with them and I’m sitting alone in a lawn chair, just outside the white fog of smoke. At 2 in the morning- I’m over it. I want to go home and I don’t want to be rude to his friends. He’s stoned out of his mind, tapping on a drum. Good Lord… How did I get here??? I made my way over to him and told him I wanted to get going. He looked up to his friend and said:

S- Hey do you mind if I crash on your hammock?

J- You’re not coming with me?

S- I’m not ready to go.

J- Alright. See ya. Nice to meet all of you- thank you- goodnight.

and I hightailed it to the car. Furious. Boiling mad and vowing never to talk to him again. I can feel my shoes digging into the muddy driveway and I’m ready to explode. All of a sudden he was at the passenger side, climbing in.

S- The hammock is all wet- I’d rather sleep in your bed anyway.

To say the guy is clueless is the understatement of a lifetime. He’s a moron- and I’ve never had anyone be so degrading, disrespectful or worthless as a partner in my whole life. I spent 2 years dealing with his erectile dysfunction- only to arm him with Cialis and have him proposition me with inviting a man to join us- for him.

The definition of a bad relationship, gone wrong.

Consequently… he’s made me distrustful around people I don’t know… he’s compromised my morals and my strengths and all because he never wanted to amount to anything in his own life. If he tore me down- and made me feel badly about myself- then he could justify treating me like shit. Then it was ok. Hell I’m sure if you asked him, he’d say he was doing me a favor.

I take responsibility because I broke my #1 rule from high school. No Jocks. No athletes. Yuck. They’re all a bunch of narcissistic boys stuck in the memory of winning their high school football game. Or worse… losing it. They never get out of those pads- and they never completely recover if they blew it.

I dated their king. He blew a full ride scholarship to Utah State University, playing football, because he broke curfew. Several times. Kicked off the team, game over, and he hasn’t done a damn thing with his life since.

Besides make my life a living hell for a few years. Thankfully it’s over. Phew. Lesson learned.

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