ROUND ONE: PISSBOY vs. PISS DRUNK

R's Story: I somehow fell in love with a guy we'll call David. I lived with him and his blind, chain smoking mother in a tiny cockroach infested townhouse (no wonder it was infested, he used to leave food in his room for days and then eat it). He would shower once a week approximately. Carrying on...he drank so much that he used to pee the bed (or wherever he passed out...couch, floor etc.). I would wake up in a warm disgusting pool of it regularly.

He cheated on me with one of the girls at the bar he used to own. By this time we were living together in our own place. Girlie used to circle our building in her car and follow me around town. She sent me letters telling me how lucky I was to have him. The grand finale... he got angry one night, threw a pizza at the wall, cut the phone cord in half and punched a hole in the wall. I knew at this point it was time to call it quits.

I look back and wonder how I could have possibly stayed for two years.


R2's story: My cousin was getting married in Atlanta, so I naturally roped in my boyfriend of 2 years as "And Guest." In that easygoing way he had, A.G. didn't care much whether he went to the wedding or not, but the deal was sweetened when he learned one of his favorite bands, Suicide, was playing a show that same weekend. True, it was the same night of he wedding itself, and yeah, the band had a show back in our hometown he following week, but somehow "And Guest" made this gig the centerpiece of the entire trip.

A.G. appeared for his car-ride down with a Tupperware full of hash brownies and a sixer. Not inherently bad, but it was a matter of simple etiquette, like how you don't smoke in front of friends who are quitting. You don't kick off a passenger-side road trip like that. I took my frustration out on the gas pedal, so just over the NC line I got nabbed for 85 in a 60. A.G. was unphased. Back on the road, he retrieved the Tupperware from under the seat, killed the last beer, and dozed off.

Upon arriving, a sluggish A.G. excused himself from me and the fam to go down to the club and buy tickets for tomorrow's show. Sidetracked by southern hospitality and alcoholism, he failed and had to go back he next day. The club didn't open until 6; waiting for A.G. to get back, we missed the nuptials themselves. Eschewing tardiness twice in one night, as soon as he'd finished his dinner at the reception, he told me he was out to catch the band.

He stumbled in at 3 a.m., piss drunk, reeking of rock and roll, and woke me up. "I wish you could have been there," he slurred passionately, "Suicide is so great." Perhaps, but could it really hold a candle to homicide at that point? A.G. slept through brunch the next morning and was still snoring when I shoved him awake so we could check out.

Doing the speed limit, it takes 7 hours to drive from Atlanta, GA to Washington, DC. When you are not speaking, it feels even longer.


Claire Zulkey says: This is a tough one, because while R's story is indeed horrible, it's hard to imagine why she put up with this guy. Did he leave ho-ho's underneath the mattress? But pity points must be deducted when one is staying with a guy so obviously horrible. You woke up in a warm disgusting pool of pee "regularly." This is the 21st century, my dear: pee in the bed once, shame on you. Pee in the bed twice, shame on me. Really, seriously, shame on you though. By the way, the pizza story needs more detail: if it landed crust-first against the wall, then it isn't quite so bad but if you had pepperoni sliding towards the carpet, then you'd get extra gross-out points.

Maybe it's because I too have been stuck as the sober sidekick on an otherwise drug-filled car drive, but I think the award goes to #2. Why do I get the impression that her boyfriend didn't make brownies for his sweetie, but only to enjoy the magic of his own baking? Plus, humiliation in front of friends and family always adds up to extra points.

WINNER: Suicide girl.

Claire Zulkey is a Chicago writer, who "blogs" or whatever at Zulkey.com and MBToolBox.com. She once found out that her ex-boyfriend had been lying about his fancy job, and that the whole time they had been dating, he was working for a restaurant. Okay, that actually happened to a friend of hers. Claire Zulkey is too awesome to dredge up her own past: only other people's.