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Tuesday, Nov 10, 2009
I had to break up with him five times -- once for each of his personalities.
Mar 5, 2003 | HELL: He was all man. Actually, he was all men.
Michael and I met without the intermediary of the Internet. I noticed that some of his friends called him different names and different variants of his name. When I asked him what name he preferred, he said he had no preference and rattled off a dozen names I could choose from. Odd. He also had an unreal number of e-mail addresses.
Once we started dating, I found out that the reason he was no longer in the military was because he'd had an episode of "lost time" while in charge of the armory keys. It had taken him three tries to pass the psych exam for Special Forces training -- and the results were way different each time. And he had really weird mood swings -- his entire speech pattern, grammar, tone of voice, etc., would change.
He worked in a gun store, kept a hand cannon under the mattress of the bed we shared, plus a large knife and a deadly-weapon-sized flashlight next to the bed. One night he got drunk and to "test" me, he put the gun in my hand, pointed it at his head, and told me to pull the trigger. If I pulled it, I didn't value his life. If I didn't, I didn't trust him.
After that little episode, pieces fell into place. Michael had multiple personalities, and he -- they -- didn't know it. Breaking the news to him didn't work, so I broke up with his melodramatic side. The next night, he called me up to go see a movie. I reminded him we'd broken up. This was apparently news to this bewildered personality, so I had to go over to his house and break up with him again. The next night, I had to break up with the macho one. And the next night, the depressed one. And the next night, the sweet one I think I'd fallen for originally. I had to break up with him five times -- once for each personality who cared.
After that, I wanted a way to thoroughly screen dates before meeting them. I turned to online dating. After a few weeks, I browsed through my "closest matches," which were just dreadful.
A few pages in, I noticed a screen-name that seemed familiar. I read the profile, a melodramatic search for "true love" and "unconditional trust"... which was awful, but at least it was a change from the "I like beer and am looking for a chick with nice tits" profiles I'd been flipping through. Something about the writing style looked familiar, too.
I read the rest of his stats. How many recently heartbroken Chinese ex-Navy Goth hackers could live in this town? It was undeniably Michael. The writing style fit the first personality I'd dumped. I signed off so fast the server nearly crashed.
I have since met a delightful man -- one personality, no guns, no online dating service necessary.
-- Carey Oxler
HELL: "Watch out for alligators!"
In retrospect, there were many warning signs. He had mentioned in one of his e-mails that he'd spent an entire day lying on his couch watching "DiGrassi Jr. High." During a phone conversation, he talked nonstop about things like the portrayal of women in the Bible and a friend who liked midget porn. Chalk it up to my inexperience and optimism that this didn't send me screaming to the hills But he had charmed me with his extensive knowledge of random television facts and his sweet demeanor.
I sure wish I had run.
After agreeing to meet, we began the intricate negotiations regarding time and place. Though I made my preference for a quick coffee meeting known, he was convinced that a movie, at an inconveniently located theater, was the only way to go. For reasons that are still a mystery to me, I agreed.
During the first 20 minutes of our date, the following events took place: 1) my date told me he'd recently moved back to the area after dumping his fiancée, who was cheating on him with most of the guys in town; 2) we went to a restaurant that served roast beef and hot dogs exclusively (I'm a vegetarian); 3) once we found a restaurant I'd eat in, he ordered my dinner for me; and 4) he explained that he had a learning disability that made it hard to look at anyone while he was talking to them.
Unable to get a word into the conversation, I sat back and waited for it all to end.
And it did end ... eventually. In the meantime, he'd jumped in the air at the end of an escalator and yelled, "Watch out for alligators!," told the guy behind the popcorn counter that the date was going well, talked loudly throughout the movie, and complained that I parked too far away after insisting on walking me to my car.
Exhausted and demoralized, I fell into bed at 9:30, resolved to meet men some other way. Any other way.
-- Name withheld
