It was over when she said, “I was talking to my therapist about you and she said…”

—AKK

Aftermath: It was over in 2 weeks.

When I was a freshman in high school, my first serious girlfriend opened me up to the wonders of make-out marathons. Although there was no actual sex, there was that (in hindsight, depressing) orgasm-through-clothing experience-but only her clothing, her orgasms. Soon, it became expected, and never reciprocated. As summer approached, she made it clear that we were going to sleep together, but I was growing physically sore and weary of our lop-sided mash sessions. I didn’t mind “waiting” and wasn’t applying pressure, but her attitude irked me. Once, just before summer break, she joked, “Well, I could always say no.” So could I. Sex was power and a game to her, and I took my piece off the board. So to speak.

—John

Aftermath: I didn’t call her much after that, and handled it very badly, dragging out the official breakup until after the summer.

I stood up from taking a nap and my eye fell upon a corner of the green rug. Out of nowhere, I thought, “If you don’t leave now, you will be with him for the rest of your life.” I stood there for several full minutes, unable to move, staring at the corner of the rug, absorbing the fact that somehow the life I’d known for six unhappy years had just changed.

—Autumn

Aftermath: I left him three weeks later, and it remains the single kindest thing I’ve ever done for myself.

We were at a dance club with some of my friends from school. I went to get a beer and when I came back, I noticed that my girlfriend was dancing with a guy that I knew was a total player. At first it really didn’t bother me all that much. But after the song ended and they continued dancing to the next one, which was much slower, I started to get irritated. They were dancing much closer now and his leg was in between hers Lambada style. I tried to calm myself down, but as I watched them, I got more and more furious. The moment when he leaned in and whispered something in her ear and she started laughing was when the dam burst. I marched onto the dance-floor, pulled him off and shoved him aside. I grabbed my girlfriend’s arm, a little too firmly, and dragged her off the dance-floor. “What the f**k are you doing!?” I screamed in her face. She ripped her arm free, shook her head and looked directly in my eyes. “What the f**k are you doing?”

—Sam

Aftermath: We stayed together for a few weeks after that, but both knew something had changed that night. I had apologized profusely, saying that I trusted her, but I knew that the guy she was dancing with was a sleaze ball. Later, I asked what he’d been whispering to her and she said that he’d asked her how much she wanted to bet that he could get a blowjob that night.

My first serious relationship was with a Canadian man. Ours was a long-distance affair, and I only actually “saw” him occasionally. When we were together, I’d try to make up for lost time by absorbing every gesture, look and quirk about him. One day I good-naturedly joked with him because his accent caused him to pronounce bagels as “bag-uls,” which I found very endearing. Unfortunately, he did NOT find this amusing in any way, and started a vicious fight that resulted in me crying in the car. Strangely enough, this didn’t concern him, but pointing out his interpretation of ‘bag-uls’ certainly struck a chord.

—Caitlin

Aftermath: The relationship lasted off and on for about 3 ½ years and ended shortly after bagel fiasco.