It was over when he told me about his sword collection. And he made the swords himself.


Aftermath: He would randomly try to contact me nine years later. He lives in Alaska now. I sure don’t.

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“Taking Back Sunday”


I always knew my summer boyfriend was a little Emo. He loved listening to Taking Back Sunday and Coheed & Cambria a little too much if you ask me. He also had a weird obsession with his little sister. When I moved back to school that fall, he called me crying every single night. Then he would call my best friend crying and ask her why I didn’t like him anymore.


Aftermath: I got the F out of Dodge as quickly as I could. Four years later, I saw that he married a girl who looks like a combination of me and his sister. They had a cake with their faces silkscreened onto it.

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“Real estate”


She suggested we get married, move into my grandmother’s house, move my grandmother out, sell the house and then move into a smaller house in her city, 200 miles away. She brought this up repeatedly over a couple of months and got angrier every time I expressed any doubt about this scheme. It devolved into her calling me up at odd hours to scream and curse at me about the housing market and what a “f***ing dope” I was being.


Aftermath: I couldn’t take her verbal abuse anymore, so I ended our five-year relationship via text. She left me a ton of voice mail and ended up mailing back my things — after she smashed them all into tiny bits.

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“Slightly Ajar”


His room was perfectly arranged – shoes aligned in his closet; shirts and pants organized by color; bed made with hospital corners; and magazines at right corners. One day he screamed at me for leaving a magazine slightly ajar on his desk. He told me it showed that I didn’t respect him. I tried to break up with him then, but he begged me to stay. Two weeks later after my grandma died and he refused to comfort me. He broke up with me claiming that “I should’ve seen it coming.”


Aftermath: It’s been 10 years and, thankfully, I’ve never had to see him.

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I came home during my last summer of law school and my boyfriend of five years told me he was sleeping with a Hooters girl.


Aftermath: The next day he asked me for legal advice. I guess that’s not on the menu at Hooters. We haven’t spoke since.

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