noodle

Okay, so I only have one true ex and that one's too raw... but how about the ones who never made it to the full boyfriend status?

The Psychotic Hispanic.
First of all, there is a reason people go into the mental health field. Some want to help and some should be clients, not providers. I should have known. He was a coworker of a friend... Bad idea #1. He worked in a Baker Act facility... Bad idea #2. He met us for lunch, then insisted on dinner later that night. Hmmm... I offered to let my friend go crash at my apartment between lunch and dinner until I got off work, since she lived 30 miles away. He went too... Bad Idea #3. He waited until she went into the bathroom and went through my underwear drawer... she caught him smelling my (clean) underwear! Kissed the inside of my ear CANAL (eew!) at dinner. How he managed to suck all the air out of my eardrum, I'll never figure out. It actually popped! But, I digress... For some stupid reason, I met him for dinner another night... turns out he bummed Xanax off clients for his own use and for redistribution, molested my (married) friend on my balcony and ended up wanting to get allergy shots because I have a cat and he was allergic. 48 hours after we met. He then proceeded to stalk the heck out of me for months and verbally/physically abuse my friend at work because he was mad at me. Lesson Learned: Never, ever date a man who can actually sympathize with the psychotic, naked woman furiously masturbating on the floor of his office while screaming that the aliens are going to kill her because she's psychic.

The Italian.
Met him at a higer-class club. Wondered why he didn't stand up the whole time, but I was fascinated with his fresh-off-the boat Italian accent and shyness. I gave him my number after much drunken discussion. Agreed to meet him for dinner one night. Didn't realize until he got to the restaurant why he never stood up. He was 5'2". I'm 5'6" and I love my chunky heels. Over dinner I learned that not only was he short, but he had had an accident on an interstate at 90 mph and suffered brain damage and his legs won't ever grow due to problems with his hips. His personality was annoying as all heck, too. We went for wine (don't ask me why) and, though he had great taste in wine, he was so creepy when he tried to make out with me that I made up a friend crashing at my apartment because he kept trying to come upstairs. He spent the next few days calling incessantly because we apparently "formed a bond" and he couldn't understand why I wasn't "all over his sexy ass". Lesson Learnedl: The accent may be sexy as hell, but annoying, cocky, Italian midgets just don't do it for me.

/me shudders.

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