A Post By: Michael Gallo
My dating history is a complex one, one filled with mystery, intrigue, and an unhealthy amount of objects thrown at my head. I would like to say, first and foremost, that I have never laid a hand on a woman, and I never intend to either. I’ve got 4 sisters, I have too much respect for women. With that being said, that doesn’t mean I’ve never done something to earn having something thrown at MY head. Have I driven a girl to the point of frustration that she delivers a right hook to my ear? Yeah, sure I have. There are two factors that contribute to the fact that I’ve been punched in the face more than a boxer:
1. I typically date absolute psychos. Like, top of the line, high caliber nut jobs.
2. I may or may not have a problem with the phrase “don’t talk to____(fill in the blank)” whether that be my friend who just got out of prison, a girl I used to know, or a girl I just met. I’ve always believed that even if you’re dating a chick, you should be able to have friends that are girls. The last couple of girls I’ve dated…weren’t quite on the same page.
It didn’t really start until my freshman year of college. For some reason (still perplexes me to this day) KU attracted its fair share of psychos. And it would seem they all wanted to cave in my sinus with their fists.
EVERYTHING you are about to read is factual. Unfortunately, these events really occurred. Names have been omitted to protect the guilty. Buckle up Dr. Phil, it’s about to get hairy.
1. My freshman year I was dating a blonde girl we’ll call “Bugglez”. At the time, I was a wide eyed college student, oblivious to the fact that there were some real fucking maniacs out there. I had just gotten out of a high school relationship and I thought I was in the big leagues at this point. Bugglez was everything I was looking for. She made me laugh, she made me think (which is good, because I had to do the thinking for both of us), and she was cute. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, she wasn’t such a big fan of me talking to other girls. However, I was unaware. I was naive, remember? Surely, everything is copacetic in college, right? Wrong. We were hanging out in my dorm room one afternoon when I went to the bathroom to evacuate whatever I had eaten in the past 2 days. 45 minutes later, I came back into my room. Bugglez was on my futon with my cellphone in front of her. She narrowed her eyes and said in a nasty voice, “who’s Lindsey?”
I powered ahead (naive, remember?). I told the truth (stupid), “She’s this girl I met in math class, she’s just a friend…”
That’s all I got out when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. She was holding the phone. Was she going to call Lindsey, I wondered in that moment? Why is she winding up, I wondered next? The next second I had 2007 brick Sprint phone ricocheting off of my left temple. I stumbled backwards into my dresser, my TV rocking back and forth on top of it. What the fuck was that? I touched my left temple. There was blood on my fingers. “Are you going to talk to Lindsey anymore?” she asked. I nodded no.
A month later, Bugglez and I were done.
2. At the beginning of my Junior year, I was dating a girl we’ll call Lassy. Lassy was a firecracker. She got into fights with random people on the street, and slapped people who talked back to her. I one time saw her spit on a girl in a bar. So in reality, she was a train wreck. Perfect Michael Gallo material. 6 months in however, it was time to pull the plug. Your girlfriend can only spit on so many people before you say, “you know, maybe this isn’t such a healthy relationship”. I was sitting at the foot of her bed when I casually said, “maybe we should end stuff…you know, go our separate ways.”
I turned around to where she was sitting at her desk. In her eyes I saw the face of Satan. Raw evil. I immediately regretted my timing. I don’t remember why the timing was bad, but it definitely wasn’t the right time to break up with her. Just after an anniversary maybe? With a startling amount of speed Lassy stood up and grabbed a bottle of wine off her desk. By this time I was a little more seasoned at this sort of thing. I covered my head with my right arm and dove for the door. The wine bottle (unopened at the time of launch) hit the door frame and exploded, covering me in wine and glass. I stood and spit out what had run down from hair into my mouth.
“I’ll show myself out. Thank you”
Lassy called a couple of times after that…but you don’t really recover from stuff like that.
3. My senior year, I dated a girl who was psycho enough to dominate the last 3 spots. This girl was an entirely new level of nuts. However, by my senior year I was a psycho girl veteran. I knew what questions to avoid, when to just lie about your friends dating strippers, and how to cover my tracks. I was the wily vet. But she gave me a run for my money.
We’ll call this girl Nutz, an appropriate name. Nutz and I argued like we were both getting paid to do it full time. Except she had a paying job for about two months of the year and a half we dated. That’s not important, except it caused a LOT of arguments. And arguing with her wasn’t like arguing with a normal chick. Nutz was fucking psychotic. Her favorite thing to do in an argument was to scan the floor and look for something to throw at my head. Are you seeing a common thread yet?
One time, on her birthday, I told her I was going to give her her gift the next day. That simple fact caused one of the biggest meltdowns I’ve ever seen in a human. She screamed at the top of her lungs. She screamed so loud she spit. I guess she was a BIT mad I didn’t get her a gift. I was confused. To me, it wasn’t a big deal. To her, it was the end of the world. While she was screaming I saw her scan the floor. I saw my Sperry and a copy of Stephen King’s Full Dark, No Stars. I knew she was gonna throw both. MAIL TIME! She went for the Sperry first. Again, I was pro status. She flung it and I ducked. It slammed into my bathroom door. “Boom miss–” I said before I noticed she had already reloaded. The Stephen King book slammed into the side of my head. I tasted pennies. She screamed, pulled out a handful of hair from her own head and left. It was an all right night.
4. This one is short and sweet. I put my phone on the coffee table in her apartment. She read my texts. She asked about a girl I was texting. I denied it. She showed me proof. I tried to duck. She punched me in my ear, an ear I’ve had surgically reconstructed not once, not twice, but three times. She knew it too. She was “crafty”.
5. Near the end of our relationship, I couldn’t take it anymore. When I still lived in my old apartment, with my roommates out of town, I snapped. Nutz was screaming and crying as usual and I was thinking about how her face looked so weird when she was this upset. She made personal attacks against problems I used to have in high school. This was the 3oth straight day of fighting. “Well…” I said as I walked over to my closet. I bent down and opened an Adidas shoe box I kept in there. It was full of fireworks and other explosives. I put an M-80 in my mouth and took out the grill lighter I kept in the box. I stood up and turned around. I lit the M-80 like a cigarette. I kept the explosive between my teeth and nodded at Nutz, my eyebrows raised. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She yelled. “Put it out!”
I took it out. “Nah, this thing is gonna explode,” I said. Suddenly, I snapped out of my haze. I had a lit M-80 in my hand, inside, in a small room with two people in it. I screamed “FUCK” and turned and threw it into my closet. It landed next to an office supplies bin and exploded, bursting open the side of the bin, and scorching the carpet. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of water and ran back. Dousing the spot. Craig Sean, who lived with me at the time, has never heard this story. I was too worried about getting charged by the apartment complex. We never paid a dollar for it.
Oh, and I’m still dating Nutz.
Just kidding, fuck that.