Less than year into our relationship I asked her why she didn’t seem to want to be around me in any way. No sex, no contact of any kind. She told me, “That’s what couples do: They stop having sex.”

—Aaron

Aftermath: She ended the conversation by summoning her dog to once again sleep in bed between us. I got jealous of that dog. Later, she cried when I tried to break up, then broke up with me when she found another boyfriend to share the rent.

She was rubbing my shoulders. My shirt was off, allowing me to feel the warm exhale of her belch before I nosed the cloud of cheeseburger and Clamato gas that engulfed me. She said nothing and kept humming as if nothing had happened.

—William

Aftermath: It was long distance already, making it easy enough to just quit.

He said he’d “rather lose a finger than go bald.”

—Nicole

Aftermath: He was already going bald. I should have known something was wrong when he had to sleep with a hat on. We dated for two years, long distance.

He cried when the Denver Broncos lost. He didn’t live in Denver, hadn’t gone to college there and had no money riding on the game. He never even played football.

—Nicole

Aftermath: It lasted about three months after that. I realized that I played more football than he did.

She spent our date telling me how she’d had an affair with our waitress, which was fine. That happens when you date a stripper—it’s half the reason you date a stripper. But, when she took me home, she drove demon-fast, erratically and sang over an ear-splitting stereo. She then flashed the cars next to us while swerving into their lane.

—Rob

Aftermath: I never called her again, though she did show up at my house on her break, wearing a waist-length blond wig. I turned her down gently, not telling her that she was two degrees too crazy for me.