I knew it was over on our second date when he threw his legs over his shoulders and proudly lit a thunderous fart on fire with a lighter.

—Tiff

Aftermath: Ended shortly thereafter, for obvious reasons. The white ball of flame was impressive, though.

This guy was painfully shy around me, never spoke; he could only write letters and send mix tapes full of R.E.M. to express himself. He was intense, artistic, mysterious, and pretty cute—so I tried to make something work. One night, we had a drink and went for a walk. He started to talk, open up, then stumble around and fall down. Then declared that he loved me. He was so drunk, I had to carry him home and put him to bed. I guess the only way we could converse was if he was smashed.

—Sasha

Aftermath: We never spoke of that night. In fact, we never spoke again. Technically, we weren’t even dating, as that supposes a two way street of shared experiences—and there was nothing but awkward silence.

It was over when my Mom broke us up. She was my first girlfriend.

—Jesse

Aftermath: She’s marrying another guy in August…you win some, you lose some.

About 6 months into the relationship, she took a particularly hothothot sexual act off the menu. “That ship has sailed,” she said. So did I.

—Perry

Aftermath: Despite the bait-and-switch, we’ve remained friends.

On our third date, I met a guy at his house. He was showing me pictures in a photo album. When he came to a picture of himself, he said “There she is, in all her finest!”

—Brian

Aftermath: We did not have a fourth date.