I dated the douche who got p'o'd at me because I called his dog 'the dog' As in, 'are we bringing the dog on our walk?' He said very snarkily 'the dog has a name you know'.
So, me properly smacked down, go on a walk with the douche and 'the dog', whoops,I mean Buster. Shortly Buster runs off and rolls in something very, very dead. Douche snaps out and yells 'Get back here you g-d #$^&* Effing DOG!'
My memory is foggy--hubby and I have been a couple since 1998, but maaaaaaan, there were some...interesting stops on the way to a very happily married life (seriously, LOVE my hubby).
I don't remember douches so much as weirdos or the clueless. Well, and then there was the mentally unstable addict I had an on-again, off-again relationship with for a year. He wasn't a douche as much as he was sick. He was addicted to prescription pills, for one, and I was so young and naive I didn't know at the time that could happen. I figured since his docs were prescribing it, it must be okay. Of course, there were multiple docs that weren't aware of each other, and I doubt any of them prescribed crushing the pills and snorting them. Then, when he confessed, he made a big display of flushing all the drugs in front of me, but of course, as addicts do, kept a secret stash of pills and alcohol that I didn't know about. Man, I was naive.
A good year or so after we broke up, I heard through a weird grapevine that he had come unhinged a bit, dressed up in his work uniform, taken out his gun, prepared to kill himself...then chickened out. Then, as "punishment" for not going through with it, he shot himself in the foot instead. He lived on a second story apartment, and the bullet went through his foot, the floor, and into the (thankfully, empty at the time) apartment below. Yikes. He spent some time in a mental hospital after that.
Ultra creepy was a few short weeks after hearing that story--with him having NO IDEA I knew what had happened--he called me out of nowhere and left a voicemail expressing regret, wondering if I'm still "dating a guy" (it was hubby-to-be), wanting to see me again, and "I've got a story to tell you, heh, when you have time." HELL NO I DON'T. I bolted over to hubby-to-be that night and never returned that call, nor heard from him since. Yeesh.
He is why one of my favorite songs on Alanis Morrisette's Jagged Little Pill is "Not the Doctor:"
I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
How about…. When I was in grad school, working 30 hours and exhausted taking care of crazy, mentally ill, alcoholic mother I said "yes", when my field ed supervisor and his wife invited me to be his partner in their open marriage… (I also knew nothing about power dynamics at the time.)
I’m dating myself, aren’t I? Anyway, the sex was great! I imagine he’d had lots of practice. When it came time for me to graduate, he told me he wanted to leave his wife and two children and marry me. Then acted like a kicked puppy because I said, “Uh. No. Have you lost your mind!”
Goodness, who, other than his wife at the time (and, she’s still his wife) would want to be married to a guy like that. YIKES!!
I dated a guy only to find out 4 months into the relationship that he had a girlfriend of 6 months. I only found out after she had tagged a picture of them at her "wonderful boyfriend's family reunion!" after confronting him about it, he cried and said he was sorry and wanted to make things right. the kicker-I asked him if he told her about me -nope and did he ever plan to, i asked? No.
One BF was rather rude to my aunt at my sister's wedding. I brought it up to him later and he looked at me and said, "Your hair color makes it look dirty." Not long after that, I discovered he neglected to tell me his mother died--you know, while we were dating. I stopped calling him and started dating someone else. Over a month later, I ran into a mutual friend who told me the douche still thought we were dating. When we finally did the exchange o' stuff, douche said I should keep him for sex and the new BF for emotional support. Um...I think not.
I'm not arguing, I'm just explaining why I'm right Violence doesn't end violence. It extends it. Break the cycle.
Wow, I got off easy by comparison! I just had a couple of the can't-keep-it-in-their-pants variety douche bags, and all except one were too stupid to get away with it for long. In the case of the exception, I was young and stupid or I would have seen the writing on the wall. As it was, I did walk away when I met DH, so it all turned out OK!
Don't have a story but I recommend Chelsea Handler's book for some good DB stories and some good ideas for getting out of a bad date. My favorite is when she tells the S & M guy that she has something really special for him in the car then she just leaves.
When I was still single I used to date engineering students. At one point a guy from MIT seemed pretty interested in me. We went out on some fun dates, cuddled a bit without ever getting past third base, and I was wondering if I wanted to take it a bit further. In the middle of our courtship I had to move. He gallantly offered to assist. Not needed, I assured him, all my furniture breaks down into pieces small enough I can handle them alone. He insisted. Moving day dawns with rain sheeting down. MIT nerd, true to his word, shows up and helps me lug all my stuff over to the new place. OMG, what a keeper, my heart is yours! I lend him some dry clothes, take him to dinner, and arrange to hook up again at his place the following weekend.
On the morning of our assignation I ring the doorbell. No answer. Hmm. Maybe he's in the shower or something. I go back to my car and wait 20 minutes (this is before cell phones.) Ring the doorbell again. This time he opens the door and tells me to wait a few minutes. Okaaaay. I go sit in my car again. A few minutes later he comes down the stairs again trailed by another female, whom he hugs and bundles into her car. Our budding romance had clearly died on the vine.
Color me confused. Aren't you supposed to dump the chick BEFORE you embark on the moving day from hell with her? Or, having partaken in the moving day from hell, wait until you've actually gotten laid before dumping the chick?
I mentioned this confusion to one of my other MIT friends. He couldn't fault my logic or remedy my confusion. However, he did consolingly observe that his frat had defined a unit of social irritation and named it after my erstwhile love interest. Not out of any particular sympathy towards me - they simply found him annoying in general. I guess ultimately I got the best of the deal, moving help for only the price of a meal.
I dated that douche who gave me his used game console, complete with a crap-ton of illegally burned games, for my birthday, because he bought himself the newer console just for kicks. Please note that I'd never expressed any interest in any console or any games.
I dated a different douche who thought that "vaginaface" would be a cute, silly nickname.