He was charming. Handsome. Ambitious. Fun.
<Insert lavish sigh and girlish giggles here>
On the heels of my first real break-up, I met Bryan.* We lived in the same dorm and despite my role as big bad Resident Assistant, he continued to underage drink in his room. He was the coooolest.
One night after a few too many Natty Lights, Bryan and his friends decided it would be the manly thing to do to hoist each another up and parade around the dorm halls. It’s all fun and games until a pal with no spatial awareness smashes your face off the door frame. As blood oozed over his Abercrombie & Fitch collar, Bryan proclaimed himself a “GLADIATOR!” and proceeded to jump up and down on his bed, banging on his chest like a skinny King Kong.
Could it be? I was falling for him.
Fast forward a couple of months, and The Gladiator and I were inseparable. Back off, ladies, I was wearing his ring…or whatever the 2001 collegiate equivalent was: being his designated driver? Pretending to love the band U2? Whatevs.
Bryan was a real social butterfly, a party animal if you will. I liked being associated with him; made me feel real special. I rode the hell out of his popular coattails, too. To parties, to events, to anywhere on campus where we could be seen together. Only this girl went home with him. Only this girl rode shotgun in his junker of a car. THIS girl gently guided his drunken swagger into his apartment after another Thirsty Thursday fiasco as to ensure he didn’t commit a Jimi Hendrix and aspirate on his own vomit.
*Brushes shoulders off*
This girl was living the dream.
Swoon.
Summer break came and the original plan for four of us, two girls and two guys, to share an apartment and its expenses, fell through. I signed a lease as the only female. That meant I was living with this guy who I guess was kinda sorta my boyfriend? and his I-don’t-do-dishes friend.
Jealous?
I’ll tell you who was really jealous: my dad.
So there I was, under the same roof as my (maybe) man! I never understood why my parents didn’t appreciate how lucky they were to share every nook and cranny with the one they loved; is there anything better than running into your Schmoopie right after your morning dump? I think not. Parents just don’t understand.
Summer at college was da bomb, ya’ll! Softball leagues. Day drinking. Sunshiney fun.
But then summer lovin’ turned into dates at the driving range to “analyze his swing.” After a July of holding the end of a three-wood to his forehead, I had had enough. We got into a big fight about him being selfish. He bought me the new Janet Jackson CD. Apology accepted.
With the fall semester on the horizon, Bryan started saying stuff like:
I can’t commit to you; I want to keep my options open…(and he wasn’t talking about grad school).
…your make-up reminds me of my mom’s…
You’ve got great abs, but your thighs could stand to lose a few.
Hmmm. That’s weird. I thought love was more about sharing and hugging and, well, loving. Guess I was wrong?
*******
The new school year was in full swing. In between classes and work, my girls and I were planning for our epic spring break, and Bryan was preparing for some boring golf something. We still spent time together, but quality time it was not. It was mostly time after Happy Hour or after midnight or…you get the picture.
I left for spring break feeling…confused. And a little angry. Okay, a lot angry. But as soon as that warm Florida breeze combed through my freshly highlighted hair, I was all “Bryan who?” The new friend I met on the beach also helped me forget my troubles; we’ll call him Mr. Boston.
Mr. Boston: You girls going to the ba’ tonight?
Me: I’m going wherever you’re going.
WHOA! All of a sudden, I was this confident kitten who knew she was totally worth Mr. Boston’s drool. I vaguely remembered this gal; she existed a few years back before a life-altering break-up, and before she sold herself out to run with the popular crowd…
After a fabulous spring break, it was back to college and classes. And Bryan. Oh, Bryan. Sad, sad Bryan. How insignificant he became. How incredibly indifferent I became. It was like our very own version of Trading Places, and I was Eddie Murphy. Or at least as Eddie Murphy as a middle-class white girl can be.
My gut kept gnawing at me to tell Bryan about Mr. Boston. It was the responsible thing to do. He deserved to know. Blah blah blah. So I told him. And you know what that bastard did? He cried. CRIED!!
How dare he kick my heart around for the better part of a year, disregard me like the liquor bottles overflowing in every recycling bin on campus, and then make ME feel bad about it?!
Aww hell-to-the-no.
That day, I said goodbye and went on my merry way.
But he followed me.
The next morning at SIX O’CLOCK (when you’re a junior in college, 6am is, like, illegal), he knocked on my apartment door bearing gifts of hot chocolate and a McDonalds breakfast burrito.
Damn you, scrumptious burrito. I could have ignored the knocking had your greasy deliciousness not wafted in from under the door and tempted my nostrils.
I sat down at my computer, Bryan crawled into my bed (alone), and in what can only be described as stalkerish and creepy, yet blatantly voyeuristic, watched me eat.
Sip. Bite. Sip.
Still there? Shit.
Bryan cried some more. He said he was hurt, but he now realized the way he treated me was wrong. He should have been kinder. Devoted himself to me. None of that mattered, though, because PRAISE JESUS, he had seen the light, and–please sit down for this one–he was in love with me.
I’m sorry, whaaat?
I had waited for-ev-er to hear those words pass his lips. I did everything to be the recipient of his affection. I pretended to like golf. I went to the Big Butler County Fair and drank warm beer and listened to The Clarks and inhaled the stench of goat. I put up with his drunken binges, and for reasons still unbeknownst to me, didn’t take him down to China Town when he continually disrespected me and my family. Stephanie circa 1999 would’ve laid the smack down immediately, but post-broken heart Stephanie tried to replace a lost love with a new one, and in the process, lost sight of herself so much that she had forgotten what it felt like to really be loved.
But he loved me now. BRYAN LOVED ME! I was getting what I wanted.
I finished my hot chocolate, asked him to leave, and instantly felt lighter.
And those breakfast burritos? To this day, they still make me sick to my stomach.
*Name changed by adding a B to kinda sorta protect his identity but not really because who gives an eff?
Image copyright:gdolgikh
Exactly. Who gives an eff. Especially when they email you ten years later to tell you they really were sorry and condescendingly mention how happy they were to hear that you finally achieved the only thing you ever cared about in life (having kids) and that their marriage is going through a rough patch…
Oh, no, that’s me delving into my college nightmare relationship. I love how you handled this story. I wish we could all gather together and write our stories, print them out and post them on college campuses. It’d be a pretty awesome PSA.
I love that idea, Jean!! College PSA by some bad ass bloggers 🙂
What a douchebag. We all need to date em so we appreciate the good ones when they come along. And, to have good stories to make fun of him for blog fodder.
Amen, Tracy!!!!!!!
Breakfast burritos make me sick too *bleeeah*
So greasy, so deceptive, so tempting but bad for you…oh, I’m sorry? We’re talking about burritos, aren’t we? 😉
Aaaah college love…
That was really nice of you to protect his identity. 😉
It was the least I could do, Jen 😉
I have a hard time even imagining you in this scenario. I think I would’ve needed to beat him with his own golf clubs. Then again I tend to be a *teensy* bit violent 😉
Jenn, I have a hard time admitting I was in that scenario!! It was a time in my life that I certainly didn’t feel or act like MYSELF. I learned from it, though. *grips a golf club menacingly*
Thank you for coming over to comment!!! xo
I think we probably have to date a few rotten ones before we meet the right one who sweeps us off our feet. I definitely have a few of those in my past too! One of them my mom kept trying to convince me to take back – uh no! If she only knew…
Michelle, you’re absolutely right. I met the man I married a few months after this whole fiasco.
My prayer for my daughter is that she isn’t as much of a dumb fuck as I was (and as you were, clearly) when it comes to relationships. It is no wonder my parents let out an audible sigh of relief when I brought my husband home.
This made me laugh so hard. I can’t believe you LIVED with him! I could never write something like this. All those people read my blog, and I still have a fondness for my exes. Kind of like an adorable, dumb puppy.
I have a fondness for most of my exes because they’re decent people. This guy? Not so much. At least not in my experience with him, or my memory of him. Which is why I cringed the whole time I wrote this. Thanks so much for sharing it, by the way. You’re just super. xo
Do you know what the best part of this story was? The fact that YOU told Douche Rocket to leave. 🙂
I had my fair share of Douche Rockets in my 20s. Who raises these losers?!
I did tell him to leave. After about a year of his bullshit, I said HIT THE ROAD, JACK! 😉 And I’ve read about your Douche Rocket, and I love that you capitalize it 😉
I’m sorry, the 6am business would have had me calling the po-po. No one should wake up that early who hasn’t handed over their mornings to children.
The ridiculously hilarious Brenna of Suburban Snapshots left me a comment.
Please excuse me while I hyperventilate.
I think I dated Ryan too….I mean Bryan. Mine might have been named Chris or Hris. They are all the same though. In fact I might have dated 3 of them. I always thought, “What a waste of time.” Maybe it wasn’t though. I totally appreciate my husband that much more!
THREE?! Just to appreciate your hubby all the more, I’m sure 😉
Now I’m going to think about you every time I hear the “Abercrombie & Fitch” song. I hate breakfast burritos too. I got sick off of one from Chick-fil-A right before I had my gall bladder removed and when I was puking my brains out after every meal. Bleh. I can’t even look at them now.
Hopefully you don’t hear the “A&F” song too often. Wait. I mean, think about me, but just don’t listen to the song? What? I’m leaving…
I’m so glad you kicked him in the curb…seriously reading that took me back to the good ole college days.
I don’t know if that trip down memory lane was a good one or not. You’re welcome? 😉
Oh (B)Ryan! I knew you in college. I’m so glad Steph was so smart and realized that she loved herself more! I’m sad that breakfast burritos make her sick, though. I love them. 🙂 What makes me nervous about this whole story? My ability to raise my boys so they don’t turn out like Bryan. Thanks for sharing lady!
That definitely makes me nervous, too! What a daunting task.
Thank YOU for reading!
Seriously, you’re a fantastic writing. I always get sucked into your stories (which is a wonderful thing).
There are great guys out there that open doors, have manners and know how to treat a lady with respect. Unfortunately, I, like most women, had to learn the hard way, too. It’s hard to make light of the situation until we can step back and see it for what it really is.
You’ve no idea how happy your comment made me, Sara. I ached over this post because it was SO long. I forced my husband to read it over and over (a little awkward?!) and tried to cut down on the wordiness. It’s still super long, but I REALLY appreciate that you enjoyed it and got sucked in. THANK YOU!!!!!!
Oh and your line, “It’s hard to make light of the situation until we can step back and see it for what it really is,” is absolute perfection.
This made my morning. I mean really made my morning. Very funny and very well written.
And now you made my morning, Mere. Thank you xo
Love the disclaimer. Bryan sounds a lot like this guy I once knew, Bmarco.
Bmarco sounds like a real winner just like my Bryan.
I seriously cannot imagine my sassy, badass friend putting up with this crap. I’m going to give this d-bag a bit of credit in helping you develop your backbone (and your attitude), so for that, I thank him. Go give Zach a smooch 🙂
I KNOW! It’s not a moment in time I’m proud of, but you’re right: his line of bullshit definitely helped mold me into the psycho loud mouth that I am today 😉
I dated that guy in college, too! Right down to the golf thing. He was a real asshat. He cheated on ME and then cried when I broke up with him. And when I cussed him out (like REAL bad, as in Quentin Tarantino movie bad), he asked me why I was so mean? Grow a pair, dude. I would think it was the same person, but my biggest mistake’s name was Bjohn.
The Bryans, Bmarcos, and Bjohns, definitely deserve some Quentin in their lives.
I hope that breakfast burrito at least came with extra sausage.
I get so warm and fuzzy every time I see your pic of small children doing shots. And “extra sausage…” is that a metaphor????
Ahhhh, young love. So… stupid. I’m glad “Bryan” got the sort of comeuppance that I thought only happened in Garry Marshall movies.
I love the word comeuppance. That’s sadly the only thing I have to add this evening.
I’m with Tracy Momaical: The bad ones make the keepers easier to spot. Good for you for not falling for the burrito ploy!
He did make my next relationship seem like I hit the jackpot. Maybe ’cause I did; I married that dude 😉
This was great, it brought me right back to my late teens and twenties, the “good old days” which were never really that great!! I agree with another commenter, it seems we do need to date a few frogs so we can tell when the real thing comes into our lives. I really can cringe when I think of some of the things I did for “love” back then. Very glad you told him good bye!!
Oh, yeah, “the good old days!!” So glad I’m not cringing by myself!
Such a hilarious glimpse into your college past. lol Oh young love, right? I had a boyfriend once that I changed for too – he also ended up being a total loser.
Thanks, Debbie!! I appreciate you reading and commenting!! xo
Huh?!? McDonald’s had breakfast burritos in 2002?? Where have I been? Anyway, good riddance to bad Brubbish–or something like that. My frog’s name was Btony.
Btony. Jerk.
🙂
I “dated” that guy too when I was in college…if you can call sitting in-my bigger than his room-dorm room (I was an RA too Twinkie!) and listening to him talk endlessly about himself and football a date. Of course there were the Thirsty Thursday “dates” too. lol Swell guy! Funny thing is, my husband was my best friend at the time and warned me he was a Douche Rocket. Too bad he wasn’t the last Douche Rocket before I realized the one for me was right there all along. Young and dumb…is what I was! 😉
Interestingly enough, I met MY husband after this ridiculous relationship. Meant to be!
Ah, the good ol’ days of college. I had a similar experience with a BTodd, except that his golf was biking. At first I thought it was awesome that he noticed when I wore a different color eyeliner (wow! he’s so observant … he’s really paying attention to me!!! swoon!). But that turned into “what made you choose that color for your eyeliner?” or “I thought we decided that color didn’t look very good on you.” Yah, he was a real Douche Waffle (I’ll capitalize too because I love that!!). I can’t believe I stayed with him as long as I did. I’m sure the fact that we were “cutest RA couple” put a little pressure on to stay with him.
BTodd didn’t wear A & F … he wore Yubaz. Does that tell you anything??
I can so relate to the eyeliner thing. That’s what Bryan used to do, too; “I really like your shirt but your hair has looked better. “Why in the world didn’t we tell them to eff off?! I can only pray my daughter has bigger balls than I. Wait. You know what I mean.
This story was fun–everyone has a closet douchebag tales? xo to you for sharing yours! But listen, the guy did something awesome for you–take the temptation out of those burritos for you? God love him, at least a little bit 😉
“Closet Douchebag Tales.” There is our next series. 🙂
Do you think this douche bag is part of the reason you are so incredibly bad ass today?? Nah! He doesn’t deserve credit like that. I once crushed on this guy for SO long and was absolutely overjoyed when he “finally” asked me out. We dated (and I use that term loosely) for a while and there was a college dance coming up that I just assumed we were going to, ya know, like together. Nope. He asked someone ELSE!!! Because he had to think about life after college and the type of woman that would fit into his master plan. I should have master planted my foot up his arse. Thanks Steph, for letting me get that off my chest. Ha, ha. Seriously, well written and funny as always. Love that you have such a great family today!!
I can’t believe he told you he had to think about his master plan!!!! OMG why would we take such shizz from such losers?! Meh. At least we found our princes, right? 😉
Wow- I almost felt like I was reading my biography! Except for the part where you kicked him to the curb…I didn’t get that confidence until a while later.
And the crying?? Oh, no to the crying. That would have made me giggle.
I almost DIED when he started tearing up. I wanted to punch him square in the forehead.
I thought his name was Ryan? He was a douche.
You’re killin’ me, Smalls.
If it were up to me, I’d recommend nobody getting into a serious relationship until at least 30 years of age. We’re all idiots until that point, and in some cases longer. Then again, if it weren’t for the mistakes, we’d never know when we got it right.
Ha! A whole bunch of idiots mating with another bunch of idiots. I think we just solved America’s falling-behind problem.
There definitely was some sort of double entendre with him begging for you with his sausage burrito. Actually, my husband still begs for it with his grande burrito. Great now I’m craving Mexican and a Margarita!
Why did I never see that?! You’re an evil genius and I love it.