Worst breakups you had/know/witnessed - Page 10

I had a crush on the same girl from the first time I saw her. In first grade. I'm going to call her Marie. (In later years, my mother would remark that I came home the first say I saw her and said, "Mommy, today I saw the girl I'm going to marry!" Adorable.)

For some background here, I was the fat kid growing up. I was also the smart kid in class. I was also retentively shy. That combination pretty much meant I got my ass beaten daily from first grade all the way up through eighth. Which made me more shy. I was not exactly a ladies' man by any stretch. I did talk to Marie more or less every day, but in that shy dorky way...well hell, for the most part we grew up geeks and nerds, you know what I mean here.

By high school I dropped the weight, filled out my frame, but was still very much the shy kid. And Marie was constantly taken. She was the head cheerleader, the prom queen, all the stuff reserved for the most popular and prettiest girl in school, but wasn't the stereotypical airhead either. She was smart, articulate, hot as hell (perfect ass....years later I can still see it when I close my eyes...), and most importantly she was still sweet and was friendly to everyone, including my still-socially-backwards self. She had the same boyfriend for the last 3 years of high school, everyone figured they were perfect for each other and were going to be married, and that was pretty much all there was to that. We had classes together where I would talk to her, do group work together, and we would talk and laugh, we'd eat lunch together, but that's as far as it ever went. It was just another school years crush story that ends like they all do -- guy pines over girl for years, does nothing about it, they both graduate and go to separate colleges 2 hours apart, and never speak to each other again.

....that is, until the next summer.

A year at college will do wonders for reinventing yourself. (cue everyone nodding remembering their first year of college) Coming home for the summer, I was out with a couple of friends picking up a pizza, when a group of girls walk in. Leading the group, who do i see? Her brown hair was longer than I remember, but her perfect curves and winning smile were unmistakable -- it was Marie, also home for the summer. When she saw me, she ran straight to me and jumped up to give me a huge hug (I'm 6'0", she's maybe 5'1" on a good day). We talked for a bit, but our order came up fast and we had to go. However, I'd become rather emboldened in the prior year, and instead of just nodding and continuing on my way, I told her we should probably get together and do something, since we're both home for the summer. She enthusiastically agreed, gave me her number, and off I went with the biggest dorky grin on my face.

I even remember the first phone call -- because this was before cell phones were a big thing (man, am I dating myself here or what? older dudes represent!), so I remember getting ahold of her Dad when I tried calling her, and him laughing because I've known him forever and him yelling, "Hey Marie, come answer the phone before this one gets away."

Anyway, to cut this part short, because you get the point by now -- we ended up dating over the summer, seeing each other 3-4 times a week. I, somehow, had ended up with the girl who I had crushed on for almost my entire cognitive life. And it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be.

After Summer was over, we went back to our colleges that were 2 hours away, but we would take turns driving to each other's colleges as soon as classes were out on Friday, and leave late Sunday. Yes, we were sickening, yes we were that couple, and yes, I enjoyed every damn minute of it.

Shy, dorky, fat kid drops weight in High School and mans up in college, ends up in a relationship with the girl he'd crushed on for 13 years.

Fast-forward to a year and a half later. Relationship has been going great. We saw each other every weekend, got together and basically spent the whole summer together, all the sweet saccharine shit you see in the movies. The sex was great too -- though I could tell she was definitely more experienced than me by that point, and she taught me a lot to be sure. We talked about all things, including getting married right after college.

About the only complaint I could come up with is that she liked to spend money. Mind you, I was a college student without a job, so I wasn't exactly sugar daddying, but I did my best to spoil her as best I could. She always complained that she was broke (well stop shopping, woman!) and that she didn't know if she could make tuition etc etc.

By the time Thanksgiving rolls around (been dating for ~18 mos. by this point), I can tell something's just not right. We're getting together just as often, she's just as happy as always, but something's just....off. Looking back, I know what was different -- the money talk stopped without any real change. She seemed to be just a little out of it all the time. She would space out while talking, which she never did before. As the weeks wore on a little, she started withdrawing a little bit at a time. I was too naive at the time to know, and even at this age, I'm not sure I would have been prepared for what I found out later....

Valentine's Day. Marie worked at a fairly classy restaurant, which is obviously going to be busy on Valentine's Day and the year before she had to work, so we had to celebrate on the weekend. This year was no different. She told me the weekend before that she was going to be busy working and couldn't get together. Of course, being awesome like I am, I decided to surprise her and make the drive anyway to pick her up after work and spend a little time together. I drove up to the restaurant, dressed up in my awesome suit, and walked in to ask the girl up front where Marie was.

She wasn't working that night.

I was more confused than anything. Surely I got the date right...duh, Valentine's Day, of course I did. Maybe she got her schedule confused....oh shit, did she try to surprise me the same way? Because that would be hilarious, and also something we would do. They let me use the phone there to call her apartment (no cell phones yet, remember?), and there was no answer. I called up to my place, and there was no answer there either.

At this point, I'm at a real loss for what to do...starting to get a little irritated, and more than a little worried, I thanked the girl for letting me use the phone, hopped in my truck (yep), and headed over to her apartment. She's not there either, but her roommate was home at least. I assume she must have just gotten home, since nobody answered when I called. I knocked on the door and she came to answer.

"What are you doing here?"

You know -- it's Valentine's Day, I'm in a suit, and she asks why I'm there. No "hi." No "wow, you look great." Something serious is up.

"Hey Lynn. I went to surprise Marie at work and she's not there. Any idea where she is?"
"Ah...you know...I don't...I haven't seen her, I just got home from work."

Any pretense of hope I had was shattering quickly. I've known Lynn for a while now too. Her eyes were just sad when they looked at me, just like they had been the last few weeks.

I shoved my foot in the door. "Lynn. What's going on? Just tell me."
"You can wait for her here." And not another word.

It was about 8pm or so when I got there. It was nearly midnight when she crawled in. She flipped on the light and saw me, sitting on the couch, watching TV. Her normally bright, blue eyes were completely lifeless. Her hair was matted down, her lipstick was smeared, and she was wearing a short blue dress that didn't suit her at all.

"Happy Valentine's Day, babe," I said. I'm sure my tone wasn't incredibly loving.

She broke down crying. I remember feeling nothing, as she collapsed on top of me, sobbing into my shoulder and started talking about the last 4 months. About how she looked for another job. How a friend at work told her how much money she made stripping. How she made such good money. How customers offered to pay to sleep with her. Good money. How she refused over and over. How one of the other girls hooked her up with "a guy" that would "treat her right." How she tried all these different drugs. How she now had a heroin habit. And then, she needed a way to pay for it, and with her job, had an easy access to money....

All of this, happening right under my nose. I was a 19 year old kid, it was my first long-term relationship, and I had no idea how to process any of this. I was angry. I was sad. I was crushed. I wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be ok. I wanted to scream and yell and tell her she was an idiot and I couldn't believe she would be so stupid.

I hugged her tight and stroked her hair. "We'll get through this." She sobbed harder. She cried until she fell asleep.

Jesus, I'm in my thirties now, and I can still remember the sounds. It was just like....pure pain. It's actually hurting to write this. More than I thought it would. Shit.

I put Marie to bed and stayed up to talk to Lynn. Neither of us were really sure what triggered her to do what she did. To this day I still don't know. I asked Lynn how bad the addiction was. Bad enough that even while crying and confessing, Marie had lied to me about how long she'd been doing it. Fuck.

Next morning, Lynn and I talk to Marie. She needs to get clean. I'll be there every step of the way. I've had the whole night to think about it. She's precious to me. She's made some bad decisions. Horrible ones. But we can work through it. We can get her clean, and....

Summer rolls around. She's still using. She's getting angrier and withdrawing more and more from me. We fight more often. I tell her she needs to go to rehab. She tells me I need to go to Hell. Lynn catches her using and bitches her out. She brings the stuff to *my* place now, since I know she was using, thinking I'd be ok with it, or at least wouldn't say anything. Of course I tell her to get that shit out of here. We yell at each other. I finally threaten to tell her parents and get her some real help if she won't quit. She straight up hits me and leaves.

I'm cutting this short, because it's fucking long -- I finally tell her parents what's going on because I want to see her get the help she needs. She, of course, breaks up with me the second she finds out. At this point I don't even care, I'm a little relived -- it's been months of hell, plus she needs the help.

Show up for Valentine's Day, find out my g/f of almost 2 years has been stripping, whoring, and is a heroin addict. After trying to help her get clean for 3ish months, I get fed up and tell her parents so she can get some help, and she breaks things off. Seriously, it's worth a read, I spent enough time writing it.

I know that she's been clean for at least a few years now, married, with a couple of adorable children. I learned a lot during that time. Definitely would handle it differently now (was a lot more passive person back then, and much less cynical/more trusting), but I have a story to tell I guess.

Thankfully not all of my relationships have been quite THAT drama filled, but I have a lot of stories I could tell. But the first cut's always the deepest, right?

I had a crush on the same girl from the first time I saw her. In first grade. I'm going to call her Marie. (In later years, my mother would remark that I came home the first say I saw her and said, "Mommy, today I saw the girl I'm going to marry!" Adorable.)

For some background here, I was the fat kid growing up. I was also the smart kid in class. I was also retentively shy. That combination pretty much meant I got my ass beaten daily from first grade all the way up through eighth. Which made me more shy. I was not exactly a ladies' man by any stretch. I did talk to Marie more or less every day, but in that shy dorky way...well hell, for the most part we grew up geeks and nerds, you know what I mean here.

By high school I dropped the weight, filled out my frame, but was still very much the shy kid. And Marie was constantly taken. She was the head cheerleader, the prom queen, all the stuff reserved for the most popular and prettiest girl in school, but wasn't the stereotypical airhead either. She was smart, articulate, hot as hell (perfect ass....years later I can still see it when I close my eyes...), and most importantly she was still sweet and was friendly to everyone, including my still-socially-backwards self. She had the same boyfriend for the last 3 years of high school, everyone figured they were perfect for each other and were going to be married, and that was pretty much all there was to that. We had classes together where I would talk to her, do group work together, and we would talk and laugh, we'd eat lunch together, but that's as far as it ever went. It was just another school years crush story that ends like they all do -- guy pines over girl for years, does nothing about it, they both graduate and go to separate colleges 2 hours apart, and never speak to each other again.

....that is, until the next summer.

A year at college will do wonders for reinventing yourself. (cue everyone nodding remembering their first year of college) Coming home for the summer, I was out with a couple of friends picking up a pizza, when a group of girls walk in. Leading the group, who do i see? Her brown hair was longer than I remember, but her perfect curves and winning smile were unmistakable -- it was Marie, also home for the summer. When she saw me, she ran straight to me and jumped up to give me a huge hug (I'm 6'0", she's maybe 5'1" on a good day). We talked for a bit, but our order came up fast and we had to go. However, I'd become rather emboldened in the prior year, and instead of just nodding and continuing on my way, I told her we should probably get together and do something, since we're both home for the summer. She enthusiastically agreed, gave me her number, and off I went with the biggest dorky grin on my face.

I even remember the first phone call -- because this was before cell phones were a big thing (man, am I dating myself here or what? older dudes represent!), so I remember getting ahold of her Dad when I tried calling her, and him laughing because I've known him forever and him yelling, "Hey Marie, come answer the phone before this one gets away."

Anyway, to cut this part short, because you get the point by now -- we ended up dating over the summer, seeing each other 3-4 times a week. I, somehow, had ended up with the girl who I had crushed on for almost my entire cognitive life. And it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be.

After Summer was over, we went back to our colleges that were 2 hours away, but we would take turns driving to each other's colleges as soon as classes were out on Friday, and leave late Sunday. Yes, we were sickening, yes we were that couple, and yes, I enjoyed every damn minute of it.

Shy, dorky, fat kid drops weight in High School and mans up in college, ends up in a relationship with the girl he'd crushed on for 13 years.

Fast-forward to a year and a half later. Relationship has been going great. We saw each other every weekend, got together and basically spent the whole summer together, all the sweet saccharine shit you see in the movies. The sex was great too -- though I could tell she was definitely more experienced than me by that point, and she taught me a lot to be sure. We talked about all things, including getting married right after college.

About the only complaint I could come up with is that she liked to spend money. Mind you, I was a college student without a job, so I wasn't exactly sugar daddying, but I did my best to spoil her as best I could. She always complained that she was broke (well stop shopping, woman!) and that she didn't know if she could make tuition etc etc.

By the time Thanksgiving rolls around (been dating for ~18 mos. by this point), I can tell something's just not right. We're getting together just as often, she's just as happy as always, but something's just....off. Looking back, I know what was different -- the money talk stopped without any real change. She seemed to be just a little out of it all the time. She would space out while talking, which she never did before. As the weeks wore on a little, she started withdrawing a little bit at a time. I was too naive at the time to know, and even at this age, I'm not sure I would have been prepared for what I found out later....

Valentine's Day. Marie worked at a fairly classy restaurant, which is obviously going to be busy on Valentine's Day and the year before she had to work, so we had to celebrate on the weekend. This year was no different. She told me the weekend before that she was going to be busy working and couldn't get together. Of course, being awesome like I am, I decided to surprise her and make the drive anyway to pick her up after work and spend a little time together. I drove up to the restaurant, dressed up in my awesome suit, and walked in to ask the girl up front where Marie was.

She wasn't working that night.

I was more confused than anything. Surely I got the date right...duh, Valentine's Day, of course I did. Maybe she got her schedule confused....oh shit, did she try to surprise me the same way? Because that would be hilarious, and also something we would do. They let me use the phone there to call her apartment (no cell phones yet, remember?), and there was no answer. I called up to my place, and there was no answer there either.

At this point, I'm at a real loss for what to do...starting to get a little irritated, and more than a little worried, I thanked the girl for letting me use the phone, hopped in my truck (yep), and headed over to her apartment. She's not there either, but her roommate was home at least. I assume she must have just gotten home, since nobody answered when I called. I knocked on the door and she came to answer.

"What are you doing here?"

You know -- it's Valentine's Day, I'm in a suit, and she asks why I'm there. No "hi." No "wow, you look great." Something serious is up.

"Hey Lynn. I went to surprise Marie at work and she's not there. Any idea where she is?"
"Ah...you know...I don't...I haven't seen her, I just got home from work."

Any pretense of hope I had was shattering quickly. I've known Lynn for a while now too. Her eyes were just sad when they looked at me, just like they had been the last few weeks.

I shoved my foot in the door. "Lynn. What's going on? Just tell me."
"You can wait for her here." And not another word.

It was about 8pm or so when I got there. It was nearly midnight when she crawled in. She flipped on the light and saw me, sitting on the couch, watching TV. Her normally bright, blue eyes were completely lifeless. Her hair was matted down, her lipstick was smeared, and she was wearing a short blue dress that didn't suit her at all.

"Happy Valentine's Day, babe," I said. I'm sure my tone wasn't incredibly loving.

She broke down crying. I remember feeling nothing, as she collapsed on top of me, sobbing into my shoulder and started talking about the last 4 months. About how she looked for another job. How a friend at work told her how much money she made stripping. How she made such good money. How customers offered to pay to sleep with her. Good money. How she refused over and over. How one of the other girls hooked her up with "a guy" that would "treat her right." How she tried all these different drugs. How she now had a heroin habit. And then, she needed a way to pay for it, and with her job, had an easy access to money....

All of this, happening right under my nose. I was a 19 year old kid, it was my first long-term relationship, and I had no idea how to process any of this. I was angry. I was sad. I was crushed. I wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be ok. I wanted to scream and yell and tell her she was an idiot and I couldn't believe she would be so stupid.

I hugged her tight and stroked her hair. "We'll get through this." She sobbed harder. She cried until she fell asleep.

Jesus, I'm in my thirties now, and I can still remember the sounds. It was just like....pure pain. It's actually hurting to write this. More than I thought it would. Shit.

I put Marie to bed and stayed up to talk to Lynn. Neither of us were really sure what triggered her to do what she did. To this day I still don't know. I asked Lynn how bad the addiction was. Bad enough that even while crying and confessing, Marie had lied to me about how long she'd been doing it. Fuck.

Next morning, Lynn and I talk to Marie. She needs to get clean. I'll be there every step of the way. I've had the whole night to think about it. She's precious to me. She's made some bad decisions. Horrible ones. But we can work through it. We can get her clean, and....

Summer rolls around. She's still using. She's getting angrier and withdrawing more and more from me. We fight more often. I tell her she needs to go to rehab. She tells me I need to go to Hell. Lynn catches her using and bitches her out. She brings the stuff to *my* place now, since I know she was using, thinking I'd be ok with it, or at least wouldn't say anything. Of course I tell her to get that shit out of here. We yell at each other. I finally threaten to tell her parents and get her some real help if she won't quit. She straight up hits me and leaves.

I'm cutting this short, because it's fucking long -- I finally tell her parents what's going on because I want to see her get the help she needs. She, of course, breaks up with me the second she finds out. At this point I don't even care, I'm a little relived -- it's been months of hell, plus she needs the help.

Show up for Valentine's Day, find out my g/f of almost 2 years has been stripping, whoring, and is a heroin addict. After trying to help her get clean for 3ish months, I get fed up and tell her parents so she can get some help, and she breaks things off. Seriously, it's worth a read, I spent enough time writing it.

I know that she's been clean for at least a few years now, married, with a couple of adorable children. I learned a lot during that time. Definitely would handle it differently now (was a lot more passive person back then, and much less cynical/more trusting), but I have a story to tell I guess.

Thankfully not all of my relationships have been quite THAT drama filled, but I have a lot of stories I could tell. But the first cut's always the deepest, right?