My boyfriend would regularly and gleefully make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for random homeless drug addicts but wouldn’t make me breakfast–or lunch or dinner for that matter–without a huge fight.
—Amy
Aftermath: Oddly, he would get angry with me if I made myself food and didn’t share it with him. We lasted a tortuous two years.
I should have realized it was doomed when he couldn’t figure out a thermostat because it was too complicated.
—Anna
Aftermath: We dragged on another year, part of which was spent a half continent apart. If we’d stayed in the same house, we’d have split by Christmas.
A month before our five-year anniversary, he told me he couldn’t make love to me because I’d become so fat that he couldn’t stand looking at me naked. I gained about 11 lbs, or 5 kg. Four months before that, he weighted 275lbs (125kg), so I told him he was a hypocrite. He then apologized, but started sleeping with another woman whom he met on a World of Warcraft server.
—Maria
Aftermath: We lasted for another 15 days, tried to be friends for months but it always ended with him trying to sleep with me. Four months later, I met a guy who showed me what a loving relationship should look like.
He took me over to his house for the first time and when I sat on the bed there was kitty litter and cat hair all over it.
—Amelie
Aftermath: Three or four more dates. I ended it when he told me he was bi-sexual but was in love with me.
It was over when she got knocked up by her friend’s boyfriend.
—Bob
Aftermath: Shotgun wedding, baby, divorce, another baby with another guy.
