When I broke up with my ex, I opened up the biggest can of lying, cheating, stealing, all-around-nasty worms you can imagine. As far as skeletons go, he could fill each of the Kardashians’ walk-ins with his. I was too smitten to notice they’d been crawling around my life and haunting my closets since the day I met him.
- He was hooking up with his secretary. This was the initial cause of the breakup. He had been spending a lot of late nights in the office, so I did a little sleuthing and stumbled upon some cringe-worthy emails between him and his secretary. It was clear that she was doing more than just answering calls and managing his calendar. Once I confronted him about it, he confessed that she wasn’t the first one. AWESOME.
- He was popping pills. I knew that he was prescribed Ritalin for his ADHD but I had no idea how much he was taking. He was in sales, so he had to be upbeat and on top of his game at all times. This made him very good at what he did. I always wondered how he maintained a constant level of energy and focus at all times, and as I was packing up my things to move out of our apartment, I found stashes of pills EVERYWHERE—at the bottom of his golf bag, in pairs of socks, under the mattress and behind pieces of art. You name a nook, he probably thought of it. I collected every pill I could find, threw it in his favorite mug, and doused it in water. I placed the mug and soggy pills on the kitchen counter next to a note that read, “Found your stash. Accidentally spilled some water on it.”
- Apparently, he was a kleptomaniac. As if the Ritalin high wasn’t enough, he needed to catch some adrenaline from petty theft. A few weeks after our breakup, I got a call from jail. JAIL. He was too ashamed to tell his parents what he had done and needed someone to bail him out. Apparently, the guy who makes six figures every year felt the need to steal a couple shirts from Nordstrom. As far as breakups go, this one was getting easier and easier to get over.
- He was into BDSM… just not with me. In addition to the pills stashed around the apartment, there were some bondage items that I never even knew existed—things that I wouldn’t know what to do with if my life depended on it. I wasn’t sure if he was moonlighting as a cop or a dominatrix, but I did know that he wasn’t using that stuff on me.
- His family hated me all along. These people deserve an Academy Award for the level of fake love I received in the two years I dated him. I was invited along for family vacations, included in the weekly family dinner and was even on their freaking speed dial. So, you can imagine my surprise after we broke up when I received calls from his mother and sisters claiming that I was the reason he had a drug problem. They were relieved that I was out of his life. I guess we have that in common now!
- He regularly hit on my friends. They were too afraid to tell me, which I can’t blame them for, but after we broke up, they all came forward with creepy stories. When we were out, he hit on them when I went to the bathroom, he sent inappropriate texts and even shot winks across the room. He claimed to be the most faithful guy in the world, incapable of telling a lie. I can’t believe I bought it.
- He thought my career was a joke. I get it, writing isn’t always the most lucrative career. When we were together, he proofread my articles, shared them on Facebook and seemed genuinely supportive. I found out later from friends that he told everyone he knew that I didn’t have a worthwhile skill to support a legitimate career. Ouch.
- He had no intention of marrying me. In an effort to explain why he couldn’t keep his hands off his secretary, he simply said, “I didn’t think you wanted a serious commitment from me. I’m not sure that I’m even marriage material.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that he couldn’t look me in the eye and take responsibility for what he did. This guy has issues, right?
- He was in love with his childhood best friend. He always held his best friend on a pedestal, which I thought was sweet. Little did I know that there was always more than just friendship there. Guess what? They got engaged six months after our breakup. I’m not sure when she’ll crack open that can of worms, but I know for a fact that I’m now one of the skeletons in his closet.
