Now for one of the good ones. I knew that my college boyfriend and I would last forever when I took him home from a party and he actually stayed for breakfast (ramen noodles) the next morning. Not only did he put up with my crazy for four years, he actually listened when I spoke and washed the sheets when I peed the bed after drinking too much. (I pretended I’d spilled water in my sleep.) Okay, I’m pretty sure that qualifies him as codependent, but it’s not like I was going to wash my own damn pee sheets. I have principles.
The last six months of our relationship was as insane as one could hope for, and included me constantly driving by his house wearing massive shades (Gucci, thank you) while singing along to “Against All Odds” by Phil Collins, waiting for the nonexistent “other girl” to emerge with her long flowing blond hair and hot pants. Obviously she was blond and hot-pantsed. The few times he caught me I distracted him by throwing my sunglasses at him and driving off. I really miss those sunglasses, they were so chic and aerodynamic.
After our 20th fight of me seizing everything in his room that was mine/I had given him and driving off in a huff– only to return an hour later to put everything back so I would have the props in place for my next dramatic exit– I finally packed up my Corolla with all my worldly possessions and drove off into the sunset/back to Minneapolis. Poor kid, he had no idea what he was in for when he took me home that night and fell in love with me. I like to think I taught him a lesson about buying the cow when you can get the milk for free.
