A little while back I made a joke about all the "bunny boilers" my husband dated before he met me. In the interest of fairness, I should probably talk about some of the borderline psychopaths I chose to date. Even though I'm afraid of what it says about me that I chose these people.
First up: Kody (P.S. is this a generational thing? With the name spelling? Because I later dated a guy named Korey, and I'm wondering...what up with the K names?)
Kody was...so completely a baby psycho. I was 16. He was...17? 18? I don't know, but he was still in my grade. To be fair to Kody, I knew from the instant I started talking to him that he didn't want a girlfriend. He wanted to get laid. And was perhaps interested in me because I had a reputation for not sleeping with guys (true: I did not once ever have sex in high school, and many, many boys wanted to get in my pants for the sole reason that they wanted bragging rights about being the one that got in my pants first). But anyway. I was in that very, very short lived period of my life where I thought the "bad boy" thing was sexy and that the "love of a good girl" would save him and it would all be very romantic, and a lovely story to tell our children one day. (It is okay to laugh. I am laughing at myself).
So Kody and I hung out a few times (in fact, he was the star of the story about the first time a boy touched my girly parts and how that contributed to my continuing virginness for...quite a long time, actually). Kody was horrible to me in public. He either ignored me or went out of his way to mock and humiliate me. But then he would call me on the phone every day as soon as I got home and be really, really sweet to me.
Did you catch the important part there? He called me EVERY DAY AS SOON AS I GOT HOME. He had it timed. If I was a few minutes late he would badger me about where I had been and what I had been doing and who I had been with. These "conversations" lasted for HOURS. Even though after the first 20 minutes it generally ended up being me, struggling in vain to get off the phone while he played video games or smoked weed or ate mushrooms. And listen, all of those activities are fun, don't get me wrong. But they are only fun if you are actually participating. It is not fun to listen to someone else play a game or get high (okay, the day he tripped on the mushrooms was a little amusing..."Damn. Nothing's happening, I'm not feeling anything...holy shit, there's a cartoon rabbit in here!")
So, after two weeks of putting up with his split personality disorder, his stalker-y behavior, and what is still the worst sexual experience of my life...he got arrested for shoplifting and started screwing some other chick. Because she came to bail him out of jail. Except...I think she just picked him up, because I'm pretty sure teenagers can't bail other teenagers out of jail? Whatever, it was all very Melrose Place.
And yet, I continued to date losers who wound up arrested for one thing or another. I don't know what was wrong with me, but I'm pretty sure I'm responsible for all of my mother's gray hair and God will punish me by gifting me with a daughter EXACTLY LIKE ME.
God help us all.