The Craziest Person Partner Contest

Maybe it's because I'm the only daughter in a family with 5 sons, but I hold grudges big time. I'm kind of fake sometimes since I pretend like things don't bother me or that I've forgiven someone, but I don't really ever forget to get even.

I had this one boyfriend in college that would cancel on me last minute, show up late, call me drunk at 4 in the morning, etc. It drove me crazy and I started to do all kinds of insane things to him to get even. I had to write in with my very, very favorite thing to do when I was pissed at him.

Revenge really IS a dish best served cold so I would work it into our sex life days or weeks after a fight. I love it when a guy goes down on me and it's a part of every sex session whether he likes it or not. So when he would go down on me, I'd get into it a little bit and then fart right in his face. I'll never forget how pissed he was the first time I ever did it. He said, “What the fuck? You just farted right in my face!”

I said, “Oh sugar, I am so sorry! I thought it was a queef!”

He goes, “You can't tell the fucking difference?”

I told him that I couldn't tell any difference in the feeling beforehand and since he doesn't have a vagina, what was he going to do? Argue? I don't think so.

This went on and on for almost 2 years and here is the scary thing: I think it worked. Still to this day I swear that once I started farting about one inch from his mouth after we fought, he started to figure it out and straightened up his act. Hahahaha! I miss you, James!

Runner-Up: Craziest Partner

I'm sure a lot of girls look through their boyfriend's computer history but my ex took it a step past that. See, I enjoy the occasional online porn but she's never like that very much. So I started erasing my history because I'd rather do that than fight with her all the damn time. That sneaky bitch went into my temporary internet files and saved a bunch of pictures to confront me with later. So when she was ready she surprised me with this bullshit. She starts out with, “So I was on your computer…” and I knew nothing good could follow that. So I'm thinking of reasons to give her to tell her why I was looking at porn again but it didn't turn out like I thought. She starts accusing me about having all these other girls I was seeing. This really tripped me out because I'll admit to the porn but I really did not have any other girls I was seeing, especially ones I met online. She pulled out the “I have the proof so you might as well admit it” line a few times but I kept telling her I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Finally I screamed back at her to let me see the fucking pictures! When she showed them to me, I started cracking up.

You know how a million sites out there have ads for dating services on the page somewhere? Our eyes pretty much skip over them but I guess our temporary internet files don't. She was freaking out over the ads for an online dating service. Not ads IN a dating service. The ads FOR a dating service. Here was picture after picture of these beautiful girls all airbrushed and posing for some company.

So of course she gets pissed that I'm laughing. [Editor's note: Isn't it interesting how people cover up being embarrassed by getting angry? They'd rather show you how pissed they are, even if they know they're in the wrong, than lose the upper hand in the situation's power dynamic. Look for this same idea in an upcoming issue.] I asked her if she noticed that every single one of those girls was incredibly gorgeous (I'm pretty average) and had words like “6 weeks free” or “match.com” on their pictures.

My girlfriend was a sneaky, insecure, immature, whiny, spoiled brat, but at least it was a final compliment that she thought I could land chicks like that. When I finally stopped laughing I told her that I was breaking up with her right then and there so when people asked her what happened, she had to tell them this story of what a psycho bitch she was.

Winner: Craziest Person

I am not sure if this is truly crazy, but I'll write in anyway. It was my last year of college at UC Berkeley and I was dating this girl I met in a psychology class, of all things. It was one of those relationships where you look back on it after-the-fact and realize how unhealthy it was. We fought all the time, she made me feel insecure, I made her feel insecure, and we were definitely not good for each other in any way. I think drama was the only thing that kept us together, honestly.

I remember one night she called and left me a voicemail and accused me of sleeping with some girl we both knew. It was bullshit, but she wanted the attention, and she was known to say bullshit things in order to get it. It was my fault for even playing that game.

Anyway, there was something inside me that snapped over this one and I called her back and yelled at her and told her I was coming over to talk. She said not to come over and I insisted and told her I'd be over in 2 minutes and hung up.

She lived in a piece of shit house near the Cal campus. There were holes in the walls, the doors wouldn't close and hung by maybe 1/3 of a hinge, and the structure was basically just termites holding hands. So I lock up the brakes when I pull in to let her know I've arrived. I storm up to the door and before I even touch the damn thing, I hear her shout, “Get out of here, you psycho!”

Psycho? Me? Fuck you, honey! I'm only here because you're the psycho. So I bang on the door. I'm no bad ass but that door was a piece of shit and the stripped out screws on the hinge just pop out and the door collapses right onto the floor. I look up in their now doorless house and see her standing there, terrified that I just broke the door down like I was trying out for a SWAT All-Star team.

I step inside and I think to myself, “Fuck it! I already look like I'm nuts, so I might as well just go for it all-out. Being half a psycho is for pussies. Let's do this!”

I walk right up to her and don't even say a word. I do something even creepier: I just invade her personal space. I stood extremely close to her, in total silence, pretending that sort of distance is totally normal. You know what I mean – it was like you are on a bus in Chinatown.

She freaks out and immediately starts backpedaling from her story about me sleeping with that girl, but I wasn't having it. I stepped away and grabbed a handful of coffee beans from a bag on the counter and just threw them in my mouth, chewing away. I hate coffee, but I think that helped me look even crazier. Because my eyes were watering while I choked down something she knew I hated, she had to have been wondering what was wrong with me.

When it was finally my turn to talk (and trust me – I decided when it was my turn to talk, not her), I grabbed a couple of mechanical pencils from a desk and started drumming on the walls as I talked. “I can't believe you put me through this shit with this girl.” When I finished ranting, I threw my fake drum sticks like I was throwing them into an imaginary crowd.

I'm not sure if you've ever had someone be truly afraid of you and what you were going to do next, but it's really interesting how it changes a conversation. I tried not to blink once and tried to hold my breath as long as I could then would gasp for air while she was trying to explain how she “heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend” about this girl. What is this, REO Speedwagon?

She apologized after about a half an hour, which probably doesn't sound impressive, but not only was it the fastest we'd ever ended an argument, but it was the only time I ever remember her apologizing for anything. I didn't really calm down the whole time, and grabbed a couple of ice cubes and started rubbing them on my forearms, face, and neck (like I was overheating) as I was walking out of the doorway.

The crazy thing about this story isn't even my behavior. It's the fact that we didn't even break up over that. I think she liked it!

Damn, I am so glad that relationship is over now. We were terrible together.

Winner, Craziest Partner

I'm don't consider myself a metrosexual guy but I do admit that I'm not the manliest looking. Although I'm taller than average, I have a smaller bone structure, little body hair, and feminine features. I assume it's because of this that I've been asked or accused of being gay for almost my whole life. I've never had one experience with a man, but here is a story about a girlfriend I had a few years ago.

Of course she eventually asked me if I'd ever been with a man and I told her I hadn't. We'd go out sometimes and I'd get some attention from men, but I respectfully wasn't interested. I got the feeling that she saw me get this attention and thought to herself, “Hmm…maybe he is gay after all.” Like I could help it if a guy approached me! That has nothing to do with ME being gay! Anyway, the months went on and she asked me probably a dozen times with my answer never changing.

One day I came home from work and she was sitting there on the couch in total silence, obviously waiting for my arrival. It was kind of creepy; there was no TV, no music, and I swear she figured out a way to make the neighborhood kids go inside and the birds stop singing.

She said that she had to break up with me because she didn't want to be a victim or part of me living a lie about being gay. When I insisted that I wasn't living a lie, that I knew myself well enough to know what sex I liked, and would have no problem with being gay if I actually was, she looked at me and smirked. It was a smirk that I can only describe like a MENSA member might give an elementary student who is challenging their intellect. Almost like a “poor, poor soul” look. Right after that she says, “Denial. It's step number blah blah blah blah” on some psychiatric mumbo jumbo list she'd looked up on the internet just to prepare for my rebuttal! She told me that she had actually discovered my “secret” by a mistake I made. It made me extremely curious as to what she thought she had on me, since I knew my absolute innocence. She led me to the bathroom and pointed at the toilet.

There, in the bottom of the toilet, was a piece of turkey burger that I'd spit into the toilet the night before because it was too tough to chew. I didn't really think about flushing it, so it'd been sitting there overnight and I have to admit, wasn't looking too appealing. But how is this her proof of me being gay, you ask?

Since I didn't inform her that I'd spit out a piece of food into the toilet, she actually saw it and thought that I was not only gay, but infected with HIV, sick with AIDS, and suffering from extreme diarrhea, as evident by the example in the toilet that just “didn't happen to flush.”

The shittiest thing about it (pun intended) is that when I told her that it was over, she said, “I know. I broke up with you.” I said, “No, I'm breaking up with you for being bat-shit crazy!” She just stood there with this calm look on her face like I still was living a lie and in denial. And not that it truly matters, but I can guarantee that she told all her friends and family her reason for breaking up with me and how I still couldn't come to grips with the fact that I'm gay. Fuck!

In any case, here is some relationship math: Non-trusting + falsely accusatory + ignorant + insane extrapolations = surefire way to become my EX girlfriend.

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This article was published on Saturday 16 October, 2010.