Share stories of your worst break-up(s)

In honor of one weel passing since that most stressful of romantic holidays, let’s share our favorite/worst/painful/entertaining break-ups! Hey, these experiences have to have some redeeming value, right?

Here’s mine:

Imagine the worst day of your life. Something about 1/2 step below “I’m sorry, but the cancer is inoperable” or “Ma’am, I regret to inform you…” Something so bad that you can’t bear to tell anyone for two days. When you finally find your voice, you naturally turn to the guy you’ve known for five years, and are very much in love with. You know that he doesn’t say the words like you do, but certainly he acts as though it’s the same for him. With much blubbering and pain, you reveal the news, and remind him (as you do every few days) how much he means to you, and how much you value his support.

A few hours later, via an oblique reference in a forwarded e-mail, he chooses to reveal that his female “friend” and “neighbor” is in fact his new girlfriend. When you confront him about it, he says “he’s sure he’s mentioned that before.” (Uh, no - I think I’d have noticed). That “all you need is time to get used to the idea.” And, best of all, that “you should be happy for him.”

He’s so cool I hear Daniel Craig is meeting with him to prepare for the next James Bond movie. :smiley:

What the hell. I’m depressed about it enough, might as well go for broke.

In a relationship that was already seeing some not so good days, I was hoping to redeem it with a nice home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. Not only would I cook for her, but for her brothers as well. Come to think of it, not such a great idea. What made everything worse is that I’d had a bad cold for about… Oh, eleventy-one months. It was the Cold That Would Not Die.

So anyway, I’d done all of the shopping, and was out of breath from lugging about 60 pounds of groceries up two flights of stairs. And I was just in time to answer the phone. The conversation? “I don’t think we should see each other any more.”


When I was barely 18 I had been carrying on a relationship with this guy who was dumb as a post (but hot–really really hot) for about three months. He had lied to me repeatedly by that point about the most idiotic things–not little white lies but elaborate and repeated descriptions of things he had done and things he had that didn’t actually exist. I was getting really sick of him.

We went on a group vacation then to Cedar Point, with my Aunt and a bunch of her friends and I took Dingbat with me, who INSISTED we share a separate hotel room from all my friends despite the extravagant cost. We go to get on the first roller coaster and he breaks down in tears and says he’s too scared to get on it. Okay, fine–but what’s not fine is he insists I sit around with him all goddamn day instead of have a good time riding roller coasters. He also gave me shit for doing the water rides because “nobody else but me should see you in your bathing suit.” :rolleyes:

So we get to the hotel room that night and I’m sick, I’m pissed, and I have a huge headache. But he wants to push it. He would not shut the fuck up. I told him I just wanted to sleep goddamn it, and then he stands up and starts SCREAMING at the top of his lungs about how I have to listen to him right now. So I say, fine, that’s it, I’m going to sleep with my Aunt and my friends if you won’t just let it go–you’re gonna wake people up, you’re embarrassing me, etc.

He’s like, “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere!” and shoves me down on the bed kind of holding me by my throat and he seriously wouldn’t let me leave. So since the relationship was obviously over as of that minute, I just pretended to be fine and went to sleep.

I regret what happened next. I didn’t want to make a scene and ruin my friends’ vacation, so I spent the next two days of our trip being extremely pissed at him but not actually breaking up with him. I just had all these images of him being stranded in Ohio and scared and shit (he was really just a kid–16 or so.) It was the WORST TWO DAYS ever. Because he behaved like a complete jackass and I fucking hated him and my friends all hated him but I just didn’t tell them what was going on because I didn’t want to spoil their fun.

Then the second we pulled into the driveway of my house, I pulled his shit from the bedroom, put it in my car and drove him home while he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Then he stalked me for 14 days. Then I had to hunt his ass down for money he owed me that he never paid back.

Then, gratefully, it was over.

Though the damage was mostly done at that point. Most of my friends thought I was on crack for ever dating him in the first place. I even lost a friend over it.

Whatever. :mad:

I’ll give the short version of the story. Some of you have already heard the long one.
Head-over-heels for a woman who, due to bad timing on both our parts, was never in a place (relationship-wise) that we could date for about a decade. She almost dies in a car crash, I suddenly figure you never know how long you have left, so… I ask, she says yes, says we have to take it slow.
Well, ‘slow’ ends up being 2 months without even a kiss. It’s almost agonizing for me; she was the first person I’d dated in 4 years. It later turns out there were reasons for her reticence, and, hey, if she’d -told- me about them, we could’ve worked on it… But that’s not the way it happened.
The break-up itself? We’re spending the evening at a friends’ place. Bunch of people, board games, the like. At the end of things, she stretches out in front of the fireplace to sleep. I sit down on the couch nearby, just watching her and thinking about how happy this makes me; just being with her like this.
I don’t fall asleep. I wish I had.
About an hour and a half later, she’s having sex with one of the other guests who’s crept up to where she is at the fireplace.
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even breathe. It was like a nightmare playing out in front of me. Afterwords, they both went upstairs. I was paralyzed for about 4 more hours before I could bring myself to just get the hell out of there.
It was hellish.

ArrMatey! wins the thread!

Had you known then of the victory you would score today, I bet it would have eased the pain to almost nothing. :cool:

I just realized I’ve been the initiator in all the breaking up of actual relationships in my life, but I still have some he-just-wasn’t-that-into-me stories:

When I was a junior in high school, the guy I was crazy about asked me to the prom. Unfortunately, he also asked two other girls. When we all realized what he had done, we agreed that none of us would go with him. However, I lied. We had a fine time and made out a little bit afterward. The next school day he came up to me with one of the other girls hanging all over him. Well, shucks…I guess she won.

Another time in high school, I fell in like with one of my brother’s friends. My brother told the guy and the guy said he liked me too. Apparently, he didn’t like-like me because he avoided me after that for about a week and then asked my brother to tell me he didn’t like me anymore. It’s embarrassing to think how old we both were, and acting so ridiculous.

Initiating the breakup hasn’t been a bed of roses either…my ex-husband attacked me when I asked for a divorce; another guy I broke up with checked himself into a mental health facility. His counselors asked me to come over one day and chat about it all…a very icky scene, believe me. They were totally on my side about all the relationship issues, and my right to call it quits. It just felt like we were all sitting around telling the guy what a creep he was and making him cry. Granted, he really was a creep, but I wasn’t interested in trying to rub salt in his wounds.

Oh god, ArrMatey, that’s awful. That’s just really horribly awful. I’m so sorry. :frowning:

Still better than having your One True Love have an affair – in front of you. :mad:

But I feel ya. I was once living with someone I broke up with. We shared a bed for the next three weeks until she moved out. Awkward at best.

Once upon a time, I broke up with a guy by the expedient of moving across town without leaving a forwarding address with him. Okay, granted, this was after five-plus years of emotional and physical abuse.

He somehow managed to cajole my new address out of my former rental company (who’d been informed of my move, the reasons for it, and given my new contact information in case they should need me to finish up any loose ends - which they not only gave to the physically abusive ex, but used to sue me for damages committed after I’d moved out).

He then proceeded to stalk me at home, work and school for months. Including (but not limited to) convincing my roommate to date him and showing up in the apartment repeatedly at weird hours.

I had a little “discussion” with my roommate about that one.

Being in my final year of school at the time, and reasonably broke, I essentially had to suck it up, buy a deadbolt for my bedroom door, and spend the majority of my time hiding from him in conspicuously public locations and never, ever going anywhere alone. My male friends were amazingly supportive of having to come down to whatever 24 hour diner I was currently studying in to walk me to my car.

I totally agree. I think I’ve been spared a lot of break-up drama, considering my worst story is piddling compared to that.

Well, mine doesn’t compare to ArrMatey, but it really sucked for me.

After several years (4, 5, can’t quite remember now) of a long distance relationship, we decided that it would be best if I moved to her state. So I proceed to quit my job–a really good job that I was good at–give up my appartment, and pack all my shit into a truck. Then the morning I was set to leave, I get a call from her “I don’t think you should come. I’m seeing someone else” Talk about a kick in the gut. I thought everything was fine. It took quite a while to recover from that one, but I’m way better off now.

And I got to keep the dog.

At least you didn’t actually move. That happened to a friend of mine. Moved from Boston to Seattle to be with his love. After about a week, she kicked him out. So he was stuck in a city with no home and no friends.

To add to my story back in post #2, one of the things she made clear was that she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and didn’t ever want to get married. A few years later a mutual friend mentioned that she was invited to said ex’s wedding.

Not quite to me, but to my best friend at the time (just out of high school, naturally):

My best friend (J) and I had been friends with benefits when she met R (who was a friend of mine as well); he joined us and we all got a place together. It was the best time of my life. Fast forward three months.

They have a big fight while I’m at work, about how R’s not contributing. He couldn’t keep a job due to migraines, which was as far as I can tell legit - he carried the injector kit at all times and routinely had to go in to the base (military brat) for checkups and such. It escalates to name-calling (from what the neighbors said) to door-slamming and stomping-off-in-a-huff fairly quickly. J was waiting when I got home; we talked. She was happy with him, just tired of him never being able to keep a job.

R comes home a while later. Things are Tense. He finally vanishes into the bedroom for about half an hour. He comes out and says, “J, I’m sorry. I don’t love you. I’m gay. The only reason I slept with you was so I could be with Sofaspud.”

Me: speechless. J: speechless.

R leaves us gobsmacked and gets in his car, drives all the way to freaking Colorado (from Washington state), and calls us from his parents place… asking if I’d come join him there. Never another word from him to J.

She and I were still friends - good friends - but it was never the same. We dropped the house and went our separate ways… I haven’t heard from her in years.


Over a decade ago, I was seeing a woman who had some serious mental health issues. At first, it was fairly tolerable – extreme social anxiety, phobic behavior (mostly terror on public transit, she literally couldn’t go anywhere without someone to hold her hand, etc.)

I thought it would be better when she got away from her husband, who was much more mentally ill than her. (They had no relations at all, he would only eat directly out of tin cans because he believed anything else might be poisoned – by her – and if he set a can down and turned his back on it for even a moment, he had to throw it out.)

It didn’t get better – after she moved into her own place, she completely fell apart. She was completely overwhelmed by coursework she was doing, and trying to keep her calm became a full-time job.

My schedule quickly turned into a nightmare. I’d work until 5:00, (taking a few emergency calls from her a day,) and then directly to her apartment to try to talk her down from the full-blown hysteria that she’d get worked into during the day. I’d do my best to reassure her and talk her through her crisis, but I think nothing really helped – she just had to go through her stuff – which meant hours-long crying jags every single day – except weekends, when she seemed relatively okay.

I’d get over to her place around six, prepare a meal, and by seven or so the sobbing would start. This would continue until she was exhausted, which was usually around 1:00am. Every night, there would be a gradual transition from amateur talk therapy to cuddling, rocking, hugging, and petting – and when she was calmed down enough, she wanted sex. She was a very beautiful woman, but after her daily catharsis, she was pretty repulsive. (Ever kiss someone with a mouthful of cold mucous?) And she wanted a lot of sex. It was usually after 2:00am that we got to sleep – and then up before six for the commute to work.

This went on for weeks, and soon I was a wreck myself. Huge sleep deficit, and I found myself falling asleep at my desk several times. My work was suffering. I loved her and felt helpless. Couldn’t convince her to go back into therapy, but I couldn’t keep on. I was internalizing her phobias – I was starting to panic when riding the bus alone, because I was so used to it being a trauma to get through.

I didn’t break up with her, of course. But I did tell her that I needed a few days to catch up on my sleep, and tried to get her to turn to some of our friends for help, because I simply couldn’t do it. Just for a few days.

Holy shit! She turned on a dime, and all the sudden I was the devil. She called again and again at work, until I worried that I’d lose my job. She called me every name in the book. She knew that I was really breaking up with her and was just being evasive. Eventually, I had to agree – I couldn’t take it anymore.

The calls stopped, and I felt a guilty relief.

And then she deliberately overdosed on Xanax.

Some of our friends acted as though I’d tried to kill her myself.

That was pretty ugly.

…and then there was the one who left me waiting at home with the wine, meal & cake I’d prepared for her birthday, (not to mention her daughter) and showed up blind drunk in the small hours of the next day to announce in a slurry voice “I fucked somebody else.” Ugh. She even stuck her chin out as though to dare me to hit her. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry and disgusted. But I’d take twenty of those over another situation that made me feel as helpless as the spectacularly depressed and irrational. At least you can walk away and not feel any guilt.


Of course, there is a big difference between losing your One True Love and narrowly escaping the criminally insane. I should know, I’ve done both.

The worst, I think, was when a woman I slept with once showed up on my doorstep – after a 3 month absence due to detox – in February, during a snowstorm, with no coat and no shoes or socks, wanting hot money love because her boyfriend kicked her out for being insanely drunk.

That was fun.

I was a senior in high school, and somehow got roped into a relationship, even though I broke off the last casual dating relationship because “I didn’t have time” for it. (In all honesty, I got bored, but also wanted to not be stuck in something when I graduated and moved away to college.) I was volunteering at the local renaissance festival, and ended up dating this guy who was not very attractive, but was charismatic enough and knew how to push the right buttons. I should’ve known that his tendency towards being persistent in his pursuits was a bad thing, but, well, first big deal serious relationships make for big lessons. We start dating, and I hold out on some of the physical aspect for a month or so because I needed to prove a point. (Long story made short: I had a reputation amongst some of his friends for being easy game, and he was a good way to prove that I can hold out if I feel like it.) We started dating in late February; by the time June comes around, I’m too stupid focused on the fact that someone else likes me enough to date me for this long that I don’t break up with him. By then, his codependent side starts to show, and he exhibits behaviors that I know I should have recognized as open hints to the fact that he was unfaithful and lived to create more drama. (Frequent attempts at pitting me against his most recent ex, a female friend that was too friendly, etc. Did I mention that I didn’t know any of these people until I started dating him?) Over the summer, he cooks up a scheme of handing over a vague promise/engagement ring, and somehow I fall for it. (I seriously had low self esteem. No wonder I took a chance at the first guy to be nice enough to me.) When I finally move up to college in August, the whining about me moving back starts and he gets really psycho codependent from a distance. I spend stupid amounts of money coming down once a month to visit home and to see him. (I spent at least $50/way to get back and forth; that money could’ve kept me fed properly if I’d thought to not spend it on visiting the moron.) By October, he’s stopped moping and has started LARPing with a new group. He meets this girl and starts getting to know her better. (He did admit to me initially that he had feelings for her.) I, of course, smell something fishy, but want to wait until I have a proper amount of time to sit down with him to deal with the idea of breaking up with him. Thanksgiving comes; I come down to visit with family, and he stays for dinner, then leaves immediately afterward to go get drunk at a party. (Six months earlier, he wasn’t fond of the idea of drinking. Go figure.) I’m too upset to break it off with him, so I put it off until I get home for winter break two weeks later. I take a bus down to his house, and of course, a lot of his friends are there (all of which who know me), including the girl he’d been cheating on me with. At this point, I’m too angry to break it off with him nicely, so I tell him that I’m not going to play the other woman and that it’s over. The next few weeks, he’s calling and begging me to take him back so often that I end up switching cell phones and cell numbers with my mom to get him away from me. She tells him off, then responds to his mother when she calls to tell her off, and I don’t hear from him for a while. Block him on instant messenger, think it’s all done. I come back over the summer to work, and he starts stalking me. Drives by my house, leaves notes in the door, shows up at my work with his girlfriend, hits on me in front of her, and essentially taunts me the whole time. I leave again. He does it the next winter, and finally stops when he and the girlfriend move in together. I didn’t take a restraining order out on him because I wasn’t around for long enough to make it count, but I still am in fear of running into him. Case in point: two years after we break up, I go to the renaissance festival with my (now) fiance and our friend, and I spot him in the distance. Of course, my prey instinct kicks in, and I bolt behind the nearest booth that has good hiding spots with vantage points so I can avoid him. Nobody has ever caused me to spook that easily in my life. At least I haven’t heard of him since.

nashiitashii, I think we need a little “break.” :wink:

My worst breakup wasn’t the breakup itself; it was the “Dear John” letter that was several pages long, with no paragraph breaks anywhere!

That was torture to read! But I kept at it 'cause I knew there was something in there that I needed to know. :smiley:

I can’t relay my worst breakup here. It’s too sordid and way too long.

However, I did run into him today in the library computer room.

Since we ended quite rancorously, our last vows to each other were that we wouldn’t call or speak when we saw each other (childish, I know, but oil and water and all that). I knew we would see each other again eventually (it’s been about 10 weeks; alright Thursday will be 10 weeks to the day); I was just not prepared to see him so soon.

But I stuck to the script and didn’t say anything, going about my business. He not only noticed I was in the room, but watched me everywhere I went (including when I sat down at my computer) and actually kept turning all the way around to follow my movements It seems he wanted me to approach him, or at least acknowledge him.

Even though he left first, he also must have mentioned me to the guy he standing talking to because when the guy left, he turned and checked me out (I was way behind him and far to his right. Why mention me? I’m nothing to you, right?

Sigh. I know we’re oil and water (hence part of the passion), but I’m still not over him. Damn.

Sorry! I got so caught in writing that I forgot paragraph breaks. Too bad I didn’t notice earlier. :smack:

No worries, I can just never resist a cheeky pun. That’s a real horror story, by the way.

I was hoping that the last chapter at the Ren Faire would involve a smiting with some archaic blunt instrument, though. :smiley: