The Exlympics

You know, a lot of people like to bitch about their exes. Hey, it’s the national past-time of single! Everyone does it; however, have you noticed how some people do it competitively?

“You think you got stuck with a loser? Let me tell you about MY ex!”

You know, it’s really not the kind of thing that reflects well on you. Even if you did nothing wrong in the old relationship, you were still attracted and stuck things out with Mr. or Ms. Horrible.

All that aside, in the honor of the Olympics, I’m proud to announce my Bronze, Silver and Gold Medals for Worst Ex Story Ever. The following stories are all hand to God true, because there’s no WAY I could make this stuff up. Only the names have been changed to protect the victims.

Bronze: My friend was in a relationship with a guy who totaled his car in an accident. She let him use her car, because that’s just the kind of girl she is. She became puzzled, however, when she received a parking ticket from New York City, when she hadn’t been to New York in weeks. So she did some digging and found that her car had been illegally parked outside the apartment of her man’s ex-girlfriend.

Let’s recap what went wrong here, shall we?

1. Was born
2. Got drunk and wrecked his car
3. Somehow convinced amazing current girlfriend to lend him her car
4. Decided to use lent car to cheat on current girlfriend
5. Was dumb enough to not park legally when cheating
6. Was too dumb to pay off the ticket before a second notice was sent

Silver: I was listening to my friend talk about her new boyfriend and frankly, sort of tuning everything out when I heard something.

“Whoa. Whoa! What did you just say?”

She then proceeded to recount her largest complaint about her CURRENT (that’s the key word here—she was STILL DATING HIM) boyfriend. Our boy lived in the dorms and, as college boys are apt to do, was not exactly King of Hygiene. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, our boy was hanging out with John Wilkes Booth, Stalin and Hitler. Not only was he not showering, He was less than prompt emptying a piss-pot.

I’ll repeat that.

HE WAS LESS THAN PROMPT EMPTYING THE PISS-POT.

How lazy and dirty do you have to be to own and use a chamber pot? Seriously. Even in the south they use an outhouse. If you’re 19 and haven’t mastered the high-level skill of potty-training, how did you manage to get into a college?

I know what you’re thinking. “How in the world is that story only number two on the list? What did the hell did Mr. Gold Metal do??? Rape a goat???” Oh my friends, I wish it were only that horrible, but the truth is much, much worse.

Gold: In order to fully appreciate the inappropriateness of this story, I have to set the mood for you:

My friend and her new man of two weeks decided to go camping one night. The moon was bright, but not too bright to drown out the millions of softly glinting stars. Crickets chirped in the bushes, as a breeze whispered through the trees. The two lovers sat in front of a slow fire, their bodies melted against each other and lips explored soft skin. My friend heaved a contented sigh, as women do when feeling generally satisfied with the course of the world, cuddled closer to her beaux and listened to his heart beat for a while. Then she asked, “Honey, where do you see yourself in three years?”

Long silence.

Our man, pressed against a loving woman, surrounded by the beauty of nature, miles away from anyone considers his answer carefully. Our girl is waiting in anticipation. What romantic answer is he considering, “Marriage, kissing you, desperately in love with you”? What will he say?

He clears his throat and my friend leans even closer, trembling just a bit in anticipation.

“Prison…I’m pretty sure I’m going to murder my brother.”

Damn, how do some guys get so smooth?