In my early twenties I was engaged to a man who wouldn’t let me sit at the bar. Why ... because only sluts did that.
(Filed under: Control-freak)

When I started dating my ex he still lived with his mother. At the time I was also living with my parents, so I didn’t think anything of it. I should have seen the red flag from a mile away. Not only was he still living in his mother’s house at 25, she accompanied him to all of his doctors appointments, imposed a ridiculous curfew, and would scream at him at the top of her lungs, in front of me. The absolute deal breaker, however, was when she told him he was not allowed to go out for a friend’s birthday, suggesting we stay in and drink in her basement. Which is what we did. After that, I was no longer interested in sticking around until he put his big boy panties on and stood up to his mother.

I went out on a blind date with a guy. He proceeded to tell me (and keep in mind he was a scrawny white guy, something I generally like) that he was "black from the waist down." Wow. Way to be classy.

I was dating this guy in college and went to surprise him at his frat house one night. After knocking lightly on his bedroom door, I found it was unlocked so I peeked in. And found him and his roommate in his bed--spooning. He was the big spoon, though I'm not sure if that makes this better or worse.

My ex believed that people in a relationship were supposed to share their money. Of course, that only applied to my money, while his “hard-earned money” (he spent most of his time at work sleeping) was to save. I was short quite a sum in the end, but getting rid of him was priceless.

A college dropout chronically in part-time, dead-end jobs in his late 20s, my then-boyfriend’s idea of “getting his life together” was to try to ‘”get fit” again. He tried to achieve this by playing PC games about 14 hours a day, seven days a week. Apparently, he sent every female gamer in these games a selection of his sex poems, which were all about his ex, who he claimed “hurt” him. On top of that, he had told these women that he had not slept with another woman since that ex (four years before me) and insisted, when I joined him in his online gaming adventures, that for my “honor’s sake” we should keep our relationship a secret from the other players.

A couple of guys I know formed a "Sans-Rubber Club" to try to see who could sleep with the most girls without wearing condoms.

I am an aspiring stand-up comedian in the Detroit area with a list of shall I say "groupies" who like to follow my so-called career on a certain social networking site. Some of these girls I find very attractive, and being a single guy I like to explore my options. There is a certain girl, we will call her Sara, who likes to respond to my posts about upcoming shows, usually with regrets about how she would love to come, but cannot find a babysitter for the evening (which some would say is a red flag of it's own). I almost always tell her no worries, maybe next time. Last week I received a message from Sara that said, “Great news, I finally found a babysitter who doesn't mind being paid in weed and painkillers. So guess what that means?” Fighting every urge to write back “that you’re a shitty mom,” I went with the second obvious answer, “that you will be at my next show.” And she was … at my next performance as well as a simply horrible mother.

If I wanted to have an intellectual discussion on any given day, I’d have to find it elsewhere or my ex would accuse me of “intellectual elitism” … until the day he decided to share with me that he was “deep, too” and started talking about how huge the “motha*@&#@ universe” was and asked me if I thought it was square or round. He asked me a bunch of questions that day, including: “Would the brain keep evolving and make super-genius people if babies could stay in the womb longer?” and “How could we make smart electronic body cells who could patrol our body and find out if we are sick before we really get the symptoms?” I didn't mind that we had somewhat different interests, but his questions often sounded like those of my eight-year-old nephew.

I dated this guy who would get hungry but not fix something to eat until I got back home. He’d stay hungry for up to two days rather than pick up the phone and place a delivery order himself. I would get home at 11p.m. and he’d ask if I could please order in for him (sure, it was nice that he said “please”) because doing so himself was apparently too taxing. If I said I couldn’t do it right away, he’d reply, “Fine, I can stay like this for a little bit more,” and then would keep bugging me that he was too hungry and I needed to do something about it.
 If a guy can't take care of himself, he probably can't take care of you.

Out at a bar, I met a girl from NY and we had a great time teasing each other over Yankees vs. Red Sox. We ended up back at my place. We made out a bit but decided to slow things down and just watch some old SNL I had DVR'ed. About an hour in, I dozed off and when I woke up she was gone. I hadn't even gotten her number and was totally confused because we seemed to be getting along so well. When I went into my bedroom I was shocked to see that she had written "Red Sox Suck" and "The Monster is Green with Envy" in lipstick on my walls. Plus, she'd taken a baseball signed by Bill Buckner. Let this be a lesson boys: girls can be just as crazy as us about sports rivalries.

One of my friends got into a pretty bad car accident and ended up spending a weekend in the hospital. This guy she was hooking up with (she was his number one booty call) went to visit her and, instead of just hanging out, talking to her, keeping her company, etc, he tried to hook up with her. This would have been somewhat excusable had her neck not been in a traction device nor both of her legs broken. What a dirtbag.

Overheard at a party: One guy turns to his male friend, flexes, and says, "I'm at the top of the hotness tree, bro."

My freshman year of college, I met a girl at a party. We clicked and went back to my dorm room. The lights were out and she was incredibly wet while I was going down on her, which I thought was because she was really turned-on . I soon discovered that it was because she was on her period and neglected to tell me before I put my face between her legs. Needless to say, I didn't call her back.

I met a guy at a friend of a friend's party and, after some light flirting, which turned into heavy making-out toward the end of the night, we ended up back at my place. I noticed that the guy smelled a little weird, but figured it was nothing. For the next three weeks we kept ending up at my place--he always wanted to sleep over. This was fine, since we really hit it off, but I got a little suspicious as to why why we never went to his place. Turned out: he was homeless. Not bum-on-the-street homeless, but literally-didn't-have-a-home-and-usually-slept-in-a-youth-hostel homeless. (He worked at the hostel part-time.)

Sometimes pet names are okay. We may even like them. But they are never cool in public. My ex used to call me "cupcake" all the time when we were out, despite me asking her to stop. Not only did I get reamed by the guys for this, but my coworkers heard it and I became "cupcake" in the office, which was especially emasculating because I was a junior sports agent and already catching enough flak for being the young guy. If you must call us by a special name outside the bedroom, at least make it something slightly less effeminate.

I met a guy at a bar and he asked me out to dinner later that week. Before the date we friended each other on Facebook, did a little poking, and I was really excited to see him for our date. Unfortunately, dinner was horrible. We had nothing to talk about and every time I asked him a question to try to start a conversation, he answered in as little words as possible and morphed into the most boring guy ever. I was hoping he wouldn’t call me and he didn’t. Instead, he sent me a let's-just-be-friends email, which was great, until I discovered he’d unfriended me on Facebook. Maybe I’m wrong, but I consider Facebook to be not just the lowest denominator of friendship but also the easiest way to pretend to be friends with someone you don’t really want to see anymore. If he wanted to be friends, why would he unfriend me?

In college, there was this guy I was pretty much in love with who I will call Jim. One night Jim finally noticed me at a party and we went back to his place. In the dark, after a long make-out sesh, I knelt down to take his pants off. Much to my surprise, I was greeted by the worst smell known to man. I really liked him, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad by leaving or telling him he stunk, so I excused myself, grabbed my travel-sized perfume bottle from my purse, coated my hands in fragrance, and when I got back to Jim, proceeded to rub my nice-smelling hands all over his lower torso and thighs to counteract his stench. For the most part it worked. But after that hook-up Jim’s appeal was for the most part gone.

My boyfriend wanted to go to Orlando for his 21st birthday and the plan was to spend the weekend visiting Universal Studios and Disneyworld. At one of the parks, he won a huge bikini-clad stuffed penguin. When I suggested giving it to a little kid, he refused and proceeded to carry it around with us all day. In fact, when he flew back home at the end of the trip, the penguin, which he named Oscar Wally, got his own seat in business class.

One of my ex-boyfriends had a very close gal pal, Rachel, who was gorgeous, intelligent, educated and successful. Whenever I went out of town on business, which was often, he would spend time with her. Naturally, I was a little jealous and expressed my concerns to my boyfriend, who reassured me that I was the only one for him. Then, one time I called his house and someone must have knocked the phone off the receiver (this was before everyone had cell phones) because I could hear a private conversation between him and his roommate. They were discussing Rachel in all of her perfection, joking about how she never has to buy drinks when she’s out with them because they both wanted to sleep with her and would do anything for the opportunity to see her naked. They then started talking about Rachel’s friend, who had all of the qualities Rachel possessed minus the good looks, and how they never bought drinks for her because neither of them were interested in getting in her pants. So, not only was my guy hot for another chick, he was also a superficial d-bag.

Over the two years we were dating and six months we lived together, my ex never let on that she was unhappy with our relationship. Then, one night, I forgot to pick up hamburger buns and she ripped me a new one. She brought up a list on her computer of all the times I had done something over our relationship that upset her or pissed her off. Then she screamed the misdemeanors at me while hysterically crying. While it was obvious that bottling things up had turned small things into one massive blowout, I understood some of her issues and genuinely felt bad. I apologized, but she continued reading. As the list went on, the complaints got very picky and eventually flat out catty. For example, she didn't like the way I made the bed, thought my glasses made me look like a pedophile and called my sister an OCD weirdo. She was lucky I made the bed! And she had helped pick out the glasses. But, that last one pushed me over the edge because she knew my sis had been battling an eating disorder for her entire adult life, and that I was sensitive about the issue. In a completely immature (but I think warranted) counterattack, I told her I hated her inverted nipples, which she announced was "taking it too far." It was OK to make fun of someone with a disease, but her boobs were too far? What a psycho.

I was dating someone my first two years in investment banking, which is a super intense field with insane hours but a very nice paycheck. She would get really upset and totally give me crap when I'd have to cancel dinner to work late or head to the office on a weekend. I understood where she was coming from--I didn't like the hours either and obviously would rather have been with her, but explained that I would have to pay my dues for a few years but it would let up thereafter.

She stayed with me and we had a huge celebration at the two year mark. My load did lighten and we were able to hang out a lot more. Three months later she broke up with me because I was "too available" and everything was "too routine." What the heck!? Those were the things she claimed to want the entire two years until then. So, all the fights, tears and headaches were for nothing. She didn't want a relationship, she wanted drama. Girls are nuts.

My ex-girlfriend made a lot of weird requests, but I loved her so I overlooked most of them. But, when she gave me a lock of her hair and insisted I keep it in my wallet at all times, I refused to comply. Can you imagine reaching for a bill and pulling out a chunk of hair? She took my rebuff as a sign that I wasn't truly committed to her. I explained that I just thought dead hair was nasty, especially when shoved into an everyday personal item, but she genuinely believed it was a sign that I didn't love her and even may have been cheating. While the hair-in-wallet argument wasn't the reason we eventually broke up, it came up nearly every time we had a fight, proving that my ex was completely berserk.

My buddy met a girl while vacationing in Maui and genuinely though she was "the one." Instead of her flying home after the trip, he asked her to spend the weekend with him in Los Angeles and said he would pay for the ticket. They slept together in Hawaii, but as soon as she made it to LA, she refused to do anything more than kiss. However, when out at night, it was clear that she was looking for someone else to do more than kiss with. She heavily flirted with every guy in our crew and even asked me to meet her in the bathroom for some nooky (I refused). Her actions were so obvious that my friend was totally embarrassed and left the bar. The next day he dropped her at the airport, then informed her that he had cancelled her flight home and she'd have to find her own way back to Skankville. A change of heart is understandable, but being heartless is not.

After moving in to my boyfriend's studio apartment, there were a few seemingly petty incidents in which I stormed out (because I couldn't go into another room) and he would say “don't bother coming home." As it turned out, he would initiate fights just so that I would storm out and he could use the apartment to sleep with other women.

I was dating, and basically living with, this girl for two years in college. We hung out at this bar near her house all the time and played a lot of pool. One night I had to go home early because of work the next morning, and she wanted to stay and finish the game she was playing--which I thought was a little strange, but we kissed, said our good nights and I left her there, alone, to play pool with a bunch of random guys. On the way home I started to get a little suspicious so I went to her house instead (since I had a key) and parked around the corner so she wouldn't see my car. (This may sound a little psycho but in the heat of the moment it seemed like a good idea.) Anyways, I went inside, went to bed and was woken up at two in the morning when the front door opened and I heard a male voice in the next room. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I didn’t go out there and they left a few minutes later.

At this point I was getting upset, and knew I had to catch her if she was cheating or she’d just talk her way out of it. At 4 a.m. she came back to her place with a dude, and I walked out of the bedroom to confront them. The look on her face pretty much told me she was about to sleep with this guy. Then when I asked him to leave, he told me he couldn't because she was his ride. I stormed out and went home, leaving them there, which was sickening. But I still took her back and we dated for a few more years. A large mistake on my part when I think of all of the girls I was missing out on during my prime years.

I wasn't sure if I was into a guy I met at a bar, but I gave him my number figuring, oh, what the heck? Shortly thereafter he began leaving long messages, in which he referred to me as pocket pooch* and spoke at length about his previous tenure as a butt model. Next time I will just go with my gut.

*Apparently because I'm "cute like one of those tiny purse dogs."

If you ask me for my number and I say no, then ask for my email and I say no, then ask me for my name and I say no, please take a hint. All you will get with this method is some fake info solely supplied to make you go away. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but there's a thin line between flirting and harassment and guys at bars cross it quite often.

After dating this girl long-distance for three years, we talked about taking our first vacation together. I suggested we go to San Francisco, because it's my favorite city and I have family there. Her reply, "Ugh, what am I gonna do in San Francisco?" I could feel my heart break inside my chest. I ended up going alone.

My good guy friend has a bad habit of picking-up chicks while waiting for his unemployed girlfriend at the government assistance office. He then proceeds to tell the women that if they want to date him they’d better be nice to me, his “favorite female.” My official job is to gauge if the chosen girl is legit or not. The question here is: If you met her while she was getting food stamps, do you really need my opinion?

Look inside your date's vehicle ... if it's a Trashmobile chances are he or she can't get it together at all and will only waste your time.

Out at a bar one night, I spied a guy looking at me from across the room. I smiled at him and he began making faces at me--sticking out his tongue, scrunching up his face, etc. So, I made faces back because what else was I going to do? A couple minutes later he came over to me and introduced himself and we started talking, doing the witty banter, laughing at each other’s jokes, basically full-on flirting. Just when I thought he was going to ask for my number he whispered to me, “My girlfriend isn’t too happy to see that I'm talking to you.” He gestured back to where he was making faces at me earlier in the night and there was his girlfriend, glaring at me.

I met a super fun and cute girl at a bar and went home with her. We got nice and comfy on the couch and just when I was about to make a move, she said, "Oh my God--we should watch Sleepless in Seattle." Before I could respond with a definitive "no," she turned the movie on. I thought maybe the DVD was simply a ploy to create noise so her roommate wouldn't hear us hooking up. So, as soon as she settled back in, I made my move. We were getting pretty into it when I noticed her head was starting to turn toward the TV mid-kiss. Suddenly, she totally pulled away and said "I love this part," in reference to the movie, not my hand slipping under her shirt. She turned up the volume and mouthed the words, while I gave an audible sigh. I started kissing her neck, but she was ignoring me. I asked if we could turn off the movie and go to her room, but was given an assertive "Shhhh!" I leaned back on the couch and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up, the movie was ending and the girl was crying. She hugged me, which I took as an invitation for one last try. She kissed me a little bit then said "I'm gonna get in bed. Goodnight," and went into her room and shut the door. It was certainly not a good night for me.

A guy friend of mine takes off all his clothes to go #2, for comfort and in case it gets "all hot and sweaty". When I asked what he did when he had to do his business at work, he confessed to removing his pants and boxers and hanging them on the stall hook, then putting his shoes back on while sitting on the can. This is definitely quite strange.

Red flag if your boyfriend's dad habitually kisses you on the lips.

I had a friend who had four different girls. One to sleep with, one to cook for him, one to take out on dates and one to show his parents. I was at first appalled until I found out the girls knew about each other and didn't seem to mind. Whatever works for you I guess.

One of my guy friends has a pick-up line that goes: "Hey, are you on Valtrex?" His thinking is, if a girl knows that Valtrex is the herpes drug, she might actually have herpes--red flag--so by asking the question he weeds out girls he shouldn't sleep with. Personally, I would red flag on him for approaching girls that way.

I was on a date last night and when I returned from the bathroom, my guy was passed out. He woke up when I pulled my chair in. I asked if he'd worked a long day or something and he said he hadn't worked at all because he had recently been fired for "taking prank jokes too far." I wasn't too sure what that meant so I just shrugged and took another roll of bread out of the basket. By the time I finished buttering the roll, he was out again. I asked if maybe we should cut the date short so he could find a bed. He agreed and said he was really sorry but he had spent the day practicing beer pong and was hungover.

My best friend is in love with a guy who has no job, no personality, and leads her on by saying sweet things like, "You could be my girlfriend if you were 20 pounds skinnier." If she wasn't blinded by infatuation she would see these three characteristics as red flags.

My friend's new boyfriend is this pseudo-hippie-type-guy that kisses everyone he encounters on the lips. Which I find just a bit creepy.