Anyhow, yesterday a couple of you inquired about "Rage", and I feel that it would make for yet another epic 'crappy boyfriend' story.
To bring you up to speed, this is the guy that I worked with. We had a pretty great relationship (or so I thought), and then, as Summer was approaching, one evening after work he walked me to my dorm and told me that he was moving away for the Summer and so we had to break up. It was totally out of the blue. I was extremely upset (even called my mom really late at night, which I've NEVER done before or since), and he had the most stoic look on his face the whole time, like it didn't matter to him at all.
I found out later that he never actually moved away (let me remind you, we worked at the same place!) Not too bright, that one. Coincidentally, he's currently the only one of my exes who is married.
|You know how, when two people get married who shouldn't|
be getting married, everyone bets on how long it will take until
the divorce is final?
So anyhow, Rage was an ex-marine. He didn't have a father figure growing up. Yes, he did go by Rage. (No, I did not call him that). He was an RA of the dorm he lived in (which means he had his own room). He was heavy into sky-diving. His favorite color was red, because it was "angry". On Valentine's Day, after dating for only a couple of weeks, he got me a necklace with a heart charm that had diamonds in it. I liked him A LOT (not because of the necklace).
|I'm pretty sure this is|
the one. I no longer
am a "heart jewelry"
Rage LOVED the Rocky movies. I had never seen one until I was with him, and I still haven't really seen one because I pretty much spaced out all the way through. Not really my idea of a fun movie date. He believed that if guys cry, it's a sign of weakness (I assume this meant he had "daddy issues" or it was a military thing. Who knows, but it's ridiculous).
I'll never forget one night we were staying at his dorm and he got up in the middle of the night. I assumed he had to use the restroom, but no. Apparently there were some guys rough-housing in the hallway. He opened the bedroom door and yelled so loud and with so much anger (or "Rage") that I was actually afraid to be in that room with him the rest of the night.
OH, and also, "Rage" shaved his entire body. I'm not even kidding. I don't know about you, but I think guys are supposed to have some hair. I felt like a beast compared to him, with my hairy parts. He slept with no shirt on and we were forced to sleep in twin beds. Cuddling up to a spiky chest (because he didn't shave every day, so there was always stubble) was far less than awesome.
I was able to look past all that, because in every other way, we got along great. He was sweet (we had a "nap schedule", where we'd meet at my dorm between classes and take a nap together), athletic (he'd even get in the pool and swim with me, even though he wasn't good at it), we went off-campus to go on "dates" a couple times a week, did things together on the weekends. It was actually fun. We hardly ever argued. But, as I learned the hard way, Rage changed his mind easily and, it seems, if he got too close to someone, it was time to move on (or "move away").
So, there it is, the story of Rage. I hope it did not disappoint :)