After two years together, his lease was up for renewal. I suggested he and I move in together. His response: “You want to live with me and my roommates?”

—Mel

Aftermath: It lasted another six months before I realized he honestly and truly wasn’t in this relationship for the long haul.

I knew it was over when I got all gussied up and he told me I was dressed too nicely for the theater. I should put back on my t-shirt and jeans. Fuck that noise.

—lepetitloup

Aftermath: I packed a truck with all of my books and clothes and moved to Chicago the next day.

When I was 19, I dated this country boy while I was home from college for the summer. I knew it wouldn’t work when he showed up for a date one night in a Hooters T-shirt, cut-off shorts and high-top shoes. Then we went to a gravel pit and made out in the back of his pickup.

—Summer

Aftermath: It was fun while it lasted (about a week), but we would never have made it past that “What does it all mean?” conversation.

She offered me her ex-boyfriend’s jean shorts to sleep in. Her guest room was full of her ex-boyfriend’s clothes.

—Chad

Aftermath: My first clue should have been that the guy before me abandoned an entire wardrobe to get away from this woman.

When we were in bed spooning one night, and my arm fell asleep underneath her. As I went to slide my arm out, she turned around and said, “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you love me?” She rolled over and bawled for the next hour, inconsolable.

—Michael

Aftermath: Two months later, we were through. After my arm fell asleep, there was a constant boo-hoo over everything. I couldn’t take it.