Here we go then...
Not funny, just sad, I'm afraid.

Mother of my child, she is. I'll let the story tell you.

We get together, couple of months later she's 'got' pregnant. Although I know she was supposed to be taking the pill, I'm quite pleased (always wanted kids anyway) and supportive and promise to stick by her cos my (apparently old-fashioned) morals tell me I should. The back of my mind sends massive messages forwards saying "Get out! Get out!" but I ignore it in favour of the 2.4 children idea.

She gets a scan, it's twins. I'm stunned, but fundamentally quite pleased.

A couple of months later she takes me to one side and says "I've lost the twins." Sad, yes, but immediately followed by "But it's ok, I'm pregnant again!"

So she'd had a miscarriage, not told me, carried on sleeping with me to get pregnant again, then told me all in one big Mohammad Ali-style punch of a statement during my lunch from work. My subconscious pages me again, but I put it on Do Not Disturb.

Things start to go to shit, in a big way. She starts telling lies, small ones at first, then bigger and bigger. I start suffering from depression. She refuses to work, so I support her through her pregnancy with the IT job I've already had for three years. We move house, she gets a dog (at the time, I ffuckking hated dogs). She starts fights, seemingly just to have them. I hate fights, and they push me deeper into depression. Arguments happen virtually every night, never agreeing on anything. We fight, verbally, mentally and physically a couple of times. General unhappiness ensues for both of us.

I get generally angry and sometimes drunk, not a good combination. I start to lose the plot. We have the baby, and things settle down for a few months, but start to deteriorate again soon. I end up out of my mind with worry, things degrading rapidly at work and with my friendship group, and generally being cack.

It takes me almost exactly a year from my daughter's birth to finally plucking-up the courage to end the relationship and, thus, daily meetings with my daughter.

After we split, she went out with a friend of mine, got 'pregnant', split up, had another 'miscarriage', met someone else, got pregnant within a couple of months, had the child and they stuck together until just recently, having another child together, then they split up and she's buggered off to the other side of the country with our daughter, who I haven't seen for six months, and their kids.

In retrospect, she was pregnant when I met her, by her old boyfriend. She was sixteen when I met her, I was twenty-one. It was a major recipe for disaster but I was young and niave and... well, stupid. But I wouldn't ever wish we hadn't had my daughter, who is the most beautiful, happy, bright and attentive child anyone could ever wish for.

This was all eleven years ago. I'm not saying I'm an angel, and that I did nothing wrong during the time of our relationship, but this girl ffuckked me up. And she doesn't even know it.

[edit] Almost forgot, she faked ME, or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, telling me and her family that the doctor had definitely told her that's what she had. She had sudden moments of weakness, especially when the subject of getting a job came about. Fnarf.
( Noely Noel people in my ear are telling me to stay calm, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 16:03, Reply)

Knife wielding crazy girlfriend
When I was 18, I was going out with a girl who was lovely, but a bit unstable. We were both out in town seperatley one night but due to be both staying at my parents, I got so hammered I ended up at some other girls house. Next morning she was pissed off when I returnedand stormed out of my room and out the house.

I few days later I took my SNES round a mates house to play some bomberman. However the games didn't work. I only put 2 and 2 together a few days later when I looked through my uni diving photos. Every picture of me had my face cut out! Checking the SNES games again, it turned out she'd run a scalpel down them in a mad rage in my bedroom after going though the photos. She'd obviously decided to hit me where it hurt. Luckily she had no knowledge of SNES games so Killer Instinct caught the worst of it while Mario Kart came off relatively unscathed and still worked.

My sister is still good freinds with her.
(fatcatpat, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 15:43, Reply)

Not me,
but a friend of mine. He seems to have a knack of finding them. They're all good lookers, but all a bit bonkers (although they'd probably have to be to be with him!).

Funniest bonkers moment would have to be when we were all out in the pub, just having some beers on a friday after work. At this time, I was due to get married in about three months time or so and she asked me what we were doing for a stag night.

"We're having a stag weekend, not a stag night" says I.

"Where are you going then?" she asks.

"We going to Amsterdam and I'm gonna get me a hooker" says I.

A look of horror spread slowly accross her face.

"You're not serious are you" she asked, shocked.

"Of course I am" says I, winking at my mate, her fella.

She turns to her bloke and tells him in no uncertain terms that he is not coming with me.

"If you went to Amsterdam with him you'd wake up in the morning with some dirty tart next to you!" she shouts as he tries to pursuade her he should go.

"Oh, come on" says he " I'm more of a man than that!"

She starts to calm down until he follows with:

"I'd wake up with two!"

God bless him, everyone laughed. It was a funny line and he delivered it well. The whole conversation was obviously a joke from the start but she didn't seem to understand. She was convinced we were serious and warned me she'd tell my fiance what I'd been saying.* Que tears and toilet for at least half an hour while we all stand around trying to figure out what just happened. I thought it was hilarious, but there's only so much madness you can take and she had to go.

* The missus got used to the Amsterdam and hooker stag do joke and used to play along. She knows what I;'m like and has a sense of humour too.

On the tit size question, any more than a handful is a waste. My wife used to be a gymnast and has a very thin, taught, toned, firm, flexible figure with smallish breasts* which are pert and soft. This is how I like them.

* It was at this point that I came in my left hand while typing with my right. I do hope this adds a new dimension to what you have just read. I feel dirty, but that's not necessarily a bad thing...
(robbersdog, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 15:30, Reply)

Bucket loads of crazy
I dont wanna say too much cos i still feel like a grade A tit for ever going near her.

faked being raped.
faked being mugged.
faked having epilepsy (whilst in hospital having had every scan possible)
'dropped' a knife and cut herself. (through her jeans and into her leg)

she would have these 'seizures' where she'd drop to the floor and do the whole eyes roll back flittering lids etc. having split up with after finally coming to my senses. i saw her at a party several months later....
first thing she does is drop like a sack of potatoes infront of everyone and proceed to have a reminiscent seizure on my behalf.

i wish id been man enough to just step over her and carry on to the toilet.

The plus side of it all is i found the route of the most classic break up cliche in all mankind. its not you....its me. i just need to be on my own blahblah. In all honesty those were pretty much the words i used when i cut her loose. And id never heard them before. i think it must just be in-built.

OH YEAH!! i almost forgot, she faked some sort of heart condition or something. we saw her in town in a wheelchair. absolutely fucking classic. thankfully this was after id got the hell out of there.

i heard some 1 say that she took the wheelchair to a rave, got wheeled in, danced like a trooper (on her feet) all night, then got wheeled back out at the end.

my first prize in the beauty but bonkers challenge goes to...HOLLY.
(WaGawAgA, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 14:05, Reply)

German love poetry
I once dated a German lady (see the "not losing your virginty" post). Nice girl, stereotypically well constructed and flaxen haired but absolutely not romantic when speaking in her native tongue.

Teutonic love verse is up there with Belgian europop for sounding monumentally awful. Being given the choice of enduring the latest Flemish hit of "Bim-o Bam-o" or a pronouncement of the undying which involves the spraying of Roy Hattersley-esque levels of spit from the orator I couldn't decide which to plump for.

She wasn't nuts in any way but had a worrying lack of sophistication on the boob/willy humour department. Even by my own standards.
(PJM Does not love Liberace, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 13:31, Reply)

Some grouches do pick'em.
One ex was very fit and very very... bendy, being an ex-ballerina. This was obviously a good thing.

Unfortunately she had a tendency to puke(with excitement, I should add) every time I phoned.

The point her boss asked me to no longer phone her at work as the vomiting was becoming a distraction was the point I decided to call it all a day.

Another was (fairly brutally) discarded when she developed a taste for victorian dress. In public. And including bonnets.

I recently discovered that she married a french herbalist in a pagan setting and now lives in a commune, somewhere near Lille.

A third - I was devoted too. So much so that I got engaged to her. And then dumped, rather brutally - karma will out, it seems.

Unbeknownst to me, she now edits Mills and Boon - lucky bloody escape, i reckon.
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 13:27, Reply)

well, she seemed normal at first...
... i'll admit, i wasn't particularly interested in her to start with, but i got to know her, and she was fun, and when she invited me to a house party i figured what the hell.

i didn't actually know she was seeing someone else, so it was kind of amusing when he turned up at the party, saw her sitting on my lap, and left pretty quickly. in hindsight, i'm pretty damn sure he took the opportunity to run like hell without warning me, the git.

anyways, one thing leads to another, we go up to her room, i figure she's a bit drunk, and didn't take advantage of her because i'm a nice guy, deep down, somewhere. long story short, we end up as an item.

now, a couple of months down the line, things start getting a little bit strange. she goes all bunny-in-headlights during sex, so we stop, i comfort her, things all calm down. this happens more and more often. she tells me she's desperate for kids, and that she might stop taking her pill without telling me, so the brown wings is the only way to be sure that she doesn't get pregnant. at this point, i should probably have started thinkings about getting out of dodge.

but it gets even weirder than that. turns out that, despite being on the pill, and despite me knowing when she's due, she doesn't. i ended up billed for a blood stained matress. now that was fun explaining that one.

then she starts cutting herself. and when i try to stop her, she tries to cut me. i start to think that something isn't right, and i uncover some sort of abuse in a park by a stranger when she was a kid. so i suggest she go to see a professional to sort it out.

see? i'm being supportive, caring, and trying to help. i'm a nice guy.

so she dumps me. then gets back together with me. wants me to stop seeing my best friend (who in another bizarre twist of fate, chose exactly the same time to let me down in the biggest possible way - nice timing. bastard.). starts doing things behind my back with other people who should have known better. gets more and more violent towards me - biting, bruising, cuts, the works. i used to explain the injuries away as rollerblading incidents if anyone asked. eventually she actually sees a professional, and things start getting smoother, and she's less violent, and things sort of sort themselves out. of course, by this stage, i'm pretty much batshit, no self-esteem, and see a counsellor - whose take on the situation was 'man, that's f*cked up.' yeah, thanks. i hadn't realised.

she then takes a year out in italy, while i stay at home, get a job, and start living a life surrounded by sane people. i start self-medicating on st john's wort, make some new friends, and ultimately manage to piece myself back together.

then comes the final straw for me - i get really busy at work, and say that i might not be able to email for a couple of days. all hell breaks loose. i'm accused of everything from being unfaithful to not caring about her to behaving unreasonably to not wanting to be with her any more. do i want to be with her?

says i, in a moment of clarity, i did, but right now i'm not so sure. i need time to think that over.
i need to know now, says she.
if you push for an answer now, it'll be no, on the grounds that i'm not being pressured into anything. so give me a couple of days.
no, i must answer now.
it's a no, then.

cue ranting and raving emails and phonecalls, threats of violence, apologies, everything. shortly followed by shacking up with a friend of mine followed by gloating emails. oh, and spreading all sorts of stories about me to my friends. i figured that hey, my real friends would stand by me, and at least get my side of the story.

no, not one of them. so i chalk it up to experience - at least i know now, eh? - and move on. find a new girlfriend, who isn't so out-and-out batshit (and is hotter than hell to boot), and things are good for me.

ex comes home, lives with some people and new bloke, her and new bloke split. ex seems to be cracking slightly under the strain of things. she brings home a bloke, who leaves shortly afterwards mumbling and looking a bit freaked. she stumbles out wanting to talk to her latest ex. he's a bit drunk, lets her in to his bedroom to talk. she ends up smashing him over the head with a candlestick. police get called out, she calms down. as they leave, she goes back and starts smacking hell out of him again. police intervene, she's off the hospital.

my old friends now look at me in a new light. i'm asked would i talk about our relationship in court if it went that far. i had one apology - the guy who was brained with the candlestick.

so, yeah, that's what happens when you try to be a supportive, decent human being.

last i heard, she's hooked up with the best friend that she tried to get me to stop seeing. i tell people that they deserve each other. they think i'm being nice.

i'm not.

hey, i know it's not particularly funny, but let's just think of it as a form of catharsis for me, and then you can all move along with your lives :)
(blades is looking for a brain, any brain, at, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 13:23, Reply)

Went out with a girl for a few weeks
Lots of sex; but she didn't give head.
She told me that she never would.

Welcome to dumpsville. Population you!

That girl is crazy to think I'd stick around after hearing that!
(waxdart went to comedy death., Thu 23 Nov 2006, 13:21, Reply)