I met her on the Internet.
First of all, never ever ever ever use Internet personal ads. Yes, I've met some kickass girls through the Internet - Amber is wonderful, and Meghan is one of the coolest people I've ever met - but I didn't meet either of them through personal ads. Naomi is cool even if I've never met her, and so is Ashley. I didn't meet either of them through personal ads, either. I met "Rachel" through a personal ad, though, and woo boy was it a mistake. Never, ever, ever ever ever ever use Internet personal ads. I cannot stress this enough. If you want to meet clingy, needy, psychotic girls with seventeen tons of emotional baggage each then you go right ahead and use Internet personal ads. However if you want to meet nice, quasi-normal females who won't try to break down your door and stab you to death as you sleep...don't use Internet personal ads.
Maybe I haven't been clear enough here. Let me tell you about "Rachel".
We corresponded through e-mails for a good while. I was twenty-one at the time; she was twenty-four. I shouldn't have gone for the older female, but what the hell, right? Older women can be sexy. I had a huge crush on this woman who lived in my apartment complex a few years ago. I was sixteen and she was thirty-two; she looked twenty-one. She was incredible. I wanted that woman so badly...but anyway. Oh God, I'm hearing "Ms. Robinson" in my head right now just thinking about her. Bridget was her name, and she had this hot pink bathing suit that she'd wear, and oh my God she was so amazing, she has this amazing voice and blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that made me unable to breathe and a great laugh and she was so friendly and when she'd wear that bathing suit and lean over oh my God she...
With Rachel I was immediately tossed warning signs that I should have heeded. I, of course, instantly disregarded every single one of them. I was at a point in my life where I was desperate to find someone to date. I was so desperate that I was ready to overlook almost any damned thing just to get a woman in my life. The first warning sign that I promptly ignored was the fact that she was twenty-four and she still lived with her parents. Okay, well, I guess that's all right. I can understand that. I lived at home until I was twenty-one and I moved out two weeks before my twenty-second birthday. No big deal; she just needed some time to get on her feet or something. Warning sign number one successfully shrugged off.
Then BAM, number two hits. She's still going to school. Midlands Technical College, part time, undecided major. All right. If you haven't decided what you're going to do at age twenty-four, just take time off of school and discover yourself. I'm twenty-two and I know what I want to do - I just have no idea how I'm going to get there. I took time off of college when I was twenty, and I haven't gone back yet. Some people think that's a bad, terrible, horrible thing, but I look at it this way - I now support myself, and haven't lived with my mom in almost a year. I just got a great new job with a great new company, and all of this is because I chose to work instead of going to school...hell, I've learned more about networking at my part-time job since February than I learned at Tech in a year. Anyway, to be a part-time student at age twenty-four is kind of weird, but it's dismissible. I dismissed it.
Here came number three, fresh on the heels of everything else...she had a curfew.
Holy fucking pantyhose, Batman! Hold the phone! A curfew? At age twenty-four? No way. No fucking way. I stopped having a curfew when I turned 18. A curfew at age twenty-four is just pure bullshit.
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
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