When someone decides to end a relationship, the fallout can be pretty ugly. The other person may still have strong feelings, and want to continue the relationship. Sometimes, they act on those feelings in a not-so healthy way. The results can be very destructive.
People on Reddit share how they reacted after a nasty break-up. Content has been edited for clarity.
“I Left It Up For A Few Weeks”
“After 6 years of dating, living together, planning to live abroad together, the truth was revealed: my boyfriend had been sleeping with my best friend for a good 2-3 years.
I announced what had happened in my Facebook status, saying ‘Thanks EX’s name for cheating on me with stupid girl’s name for two years. In my own bed too!’
Needless to say, they weren’t too happy and both asked me to remove it but I refused. I left it up for a few weeks and EVERYONE saw it, their families and all our friends. I reveled in the angry comments left on their walls, the best one being from my ex’s mom, who adored me.
She said, ‘I am so ashamed of you. Don’t bother coming home for Thanksgiving.’
His mom also messaged me that I deserved better than that, and she was sorry for raising an butthole. It was great.
We all shared the same friends and I was pleased to see every single one of my friends have out-casted my ex-best friend as well as my ex boyfriend. And as I said, I was her best friend so now she has NO ONE. Serves her right.
On another note, I still know all of his passwords for his social media accounts and email but I never did anything to them. It’s just not my style. Though nothing can be quite as fulfilling as turning his own mother against him.”
“What The Heck Do I Care?”
“I rented my first apartment with my then girlfriend. We had been dating for about six months before we moved in together. It had been about a week since we moved in together, and everything was moving smoothly. Then one night, I got home from work to find her in the bedroom being mounted like a dog with their backs to me. He was making love to her using the back door, which was something she’d never let me do (Real kicker to that one, she said butt-style hurts, and this guy was clearly bigger than me). She was all tied up and blindfolded using the silk ropes I bought for us. The stereo was blaring a very loud and dirty song, so they didn’t notice me until I took a curtain rod to the back of his head.
Left him passed out on top of her, still penetrating her, as she struggled to undo the ropes and figure out what the heck happened.
I wrote a note that said ‘My name is the only one on the lease. Pack your things and get the heck out TONIGHT, or the police will take you out. You can come back for your furniture later.’ I taped the note to the headboard right in front of her face.
I shut off the music, and left. Came back four hours later semi-hammered with my buddy and found that she was gone, but her stuff was still there. Everything was there exactly as I left it, except the note, which was crumpled up on the floor with bodily fluids and bits of poop in it. Wish I’d of known that before I picked it up.
So we threw out the window anything that was hers, minus everything I’d paid for.
Then we took all her furniture down to the parking lot, and left it sitting next to the bike rack with a spray painted sign (also known as the box spring of her bed) that read ‘Cheating arsehole’s stuff. Do not steal. Then again, what the heck do I care?’
I chain-locked and dead bolted the door that night, but didn’t trust that to be enough. Good thing I moved the heaviest furniture I could get into the doorway, because her roid-raging new boyfriend was trying to break in, and the next morning her stuff disappeared and I had the lock changed. I heard from her again about a year later, in the form of dozens of little sticky notes left on my apartment door ranging everywhere from threatening my non-existent children to begging me to take her back because she’s broke and living in her car in her parent’s driveway.
I did hear what happened to her, eventually. She maxed out this guy’s credit cards, which forced him into bankruptcy. He signed his car title into her name to avoid losing the car in the bankruptcy case, which happened to be the same Fox-body Mustang that she was living out of. Turns out, she caught several nasty diseases from another guy she cheated on roid-rage-man with, passed it back to him, and that’s why he broke up with her. She wouldn’t give him back the car, though. He ended up putting her in the emergency room with a couple of broken ribs and a broken jaw, and posting pictures of scenes like the one I described all over her parent’s Facebook pages as his revenge. To this day, you can still find her passed out hammered at 1 in the afternoon, with her foot hanging out the passenger window of a beat to heck Mustang that won’t start at least once a week, sitting in the same spot in her parent’s driveway.
As for me? After a couple rounds of really invasive tests (You know they stuff a cotton swab up your pee hole for one test?!) spaced a few months apart, I’m officially clean. Had a rough couple of months paying for that apartment on my own, but as it turns out she quit her job the day after I signed a lease, so I would have had that roughness either way. I ended up moving in with one of my best friends and we made that apartment work until we found a bigger one to include my new girlfriend, who’s now my fiancé. Today, we live in a 1,400 square foot house in the suburbs.
I think I won.”
“I Knew They Were Out Of Town”
“I’m not very proud of this one, I was about 19 at the time.
My girlfriend of 6 months had been cheating on me with my younger brother, and I was so furious, I was seeing red. I didn’t want to do anything stupid, so naturally, in my 19 year old brain, I figured the best way to not do something stupid was to go get hammered with my friends.
So after about 2 hours, I was not only still seeing red, but also hammered out of it too. I made my sober friend drive me to her house (don’t know to this day why he did it) and I went to the windows. I knew they were out of town, because it was a week before Thanksgiving and they had left for Omaha to see family, but I was just checking.
Satisfied that no one was home, I took the spare key I knew they kept under a little statue by the door and went in. Once inside, I went straight to their kitchen, and took a dump in the sink. I then ate a tub of margarine and went into her parents room where I promptly vomited. Finally, I went to her bedroom, peed ALL over the bed and masturbated onto her pillow.
When her parents found what their daughter did to me and how hammered I had been, the decided not to press charges. I send them a Christmas card every year.”
“I Was Terrified She’d Hit Me”
“So I was ‘seeing’ a girl (translation: we went to bars a lot and hung out in rooms together), and up until a certain point it was fun. She was a ‘wild child’ who worked at a bar on a busy inner city street. So getting free drinks, free tickets to shows and meeting all her really cool friends was a blast. We also went on rather ludicrous adventures through the city and at night (Darth Hader helmets on our heads while hammered and singing ukulele songs to strangers apologizing for never sending them child support).
Anyway, things got a little bit intense and her narcotic use was out of control. It stopped being fun when ‘minor vandalism’ turned into ‘arson’ and ‘hijinks’ turned into ‘assault.’ So at a bar, I calmly told her I loved spending time with her, and being friends was fine, but that I didn’t think we should be sleeping together anymore.
She was mad, but kind of ok with it. She said if that was the case, I could eff off and she’d talk to me in a few weeks once she’d calmed down. I was TERRIFIED she’d start hitting me or something so when was given a ‘get the heck out of dodge’ card, I cashed it straight away. I walked halfway home feeling like I’d just dodged a bullet.
The the phone calls started.
She kept calling and calling, and when I wouldn’t answer, she’d message me demanding I come see her or tell her where I was. This girl was unhinged to say the least, so I ended up ignoring them. Then she told me she was going to HUNT ME DOWN through all my usual haunts. Including my house. I ended up hiding out in a nightclub my friend worked at for about 6 hours. During that time, she apparently waited out the front of my house in her car after her search turned up nothing.
My flatmate calls me and tells me she’s left so I can come on home. I catch a cab and finally crawl into bed tired and a little shaken. Not 10 minutes later, she bursts into my room screaming at me, starts slapping me around, and calling me every terrible thing under the sun. I was in shock and just sorta froze up, I had no idea what to do. She left after 20 minutes of using me as a punching bag and also set fire to my couch.
I had to show up to work the next day, covered in bruises, sleep deprived and shell shocked. When asked what happened, I explained the story, and was subject to a long list of derision and ridicule. Worst part was when female co-workers told me it was ‘my own fault’ for dating a crazy chick and that what else did I expect?
When I replied that if a girl was beaten up by her narcotic addicted boyfriend there would be an instant investigation, they told me, ‘Oh it’s not the same.’ I asked why and all I got was ‘it just isn’t.
A breakup and a great look into the world of double standards.”
“My Rage Overcame Any Good Sense I Had”
“The worst breakup I have ever had happened around two years ago, during spring break. We went to Panama Beach and rented a house on the beachfront. My girlfriend and I rode down separately due to some scheduling complications (I think she had a meeting and a hair appointment or bikini wax or something).
So I got to the house first. This was the first time we had gone on a vacation by ourselves, so I wanted to make it memorable. I proceeded to set the mood of the bedroom with candles and music, so when she arrived we could get it on. I sat unclothed and waited for one hour, then two, then three. She didn’t show up at all that night. I wondered where she could have been, but just assumed there had been some traffic or something, maybe an accident on the freeway. These ideas were dispelled when she staggered in the next morning, hammered out of her mind, with clothes torn. Her chest was hanging out of her shirt. I was terrified at first. I thought that maybe she had been assaulted, and ran to help her.
Then an Abercrombie model of a guy slinked in behind her. She introduced me to her new ‘boyfriend’ she picked up at a club, and told me it was over. My rage overcame any good sense I had left after staying up all night, and I stormed out of the house, still unclothed. Seeing the guy’s black Viper parked diagonally in the driveway sparked my rage even more. I unscrewed the gas cap and poured three handfuls of sand into the tank, got into my car and left. I drove all through the night, getting home at 7:00 the next morning.
After waking up from the exhaustion & rage induced coma, I flipped on the T.V. to drown my sorrows in midday talk shows. On the news, I saw aerial shots of a horrible wreck in the town I had just been in. A black dodge viper had stalled in the middle of the highway and been rear-ended, causing a four car pile up. Of course, this was traced back to me pouring sand into his gas tank (they saw me through the window). I am currently being sued for the injuries of five people and the damages on four cars. Needless to say, I haven’t made eye contact with that sorry excuse for a human ex-girlfriend since.”
“It Did Feel Great To Do”
“I was in a relationship for two years, two years too long. He was an abusive drinker that was lovingly manipulative when sober. Broke up with him after having to call the police on him after a rather rough night. Two weeks later and I’m staying strong, telling him he has to be sober for at least a year before I would ever consider giving him another chance.
For the first time I stuck to my no, which was new for him and he very much so did not like it. Cue him then spilling he had been cheating on me for two months anyways with a girl he had sworn he was just friends with. Two months later, I’m going through a junk drawer of mine and I found I still had his spare car key. I am not an angry person day to day, and I honestly don’t even wish anything bad towards him.
I did however move his car two blocks every morning for a week. And on the last day, after what I’m sure was a week of being late to work and feeling on the verge of insanity, I left his car where he had parked it. I did also though turn the volume to max and move everything movable slightly. Do I think it was healthy? Not really but it did freaking feel great to do.”
“Jealousy Is Starting to Get The Better Of Her”
“I was dating this one woman, let’s call her ‘Cleo,’ for three years or so and we broke up because we realized we were better as friends than as lovers. She started dating again pretty soon thereafter, and I was happy for her. Occasionally we’d talk on the phone about our separate dating issues and problems, and the other would try to give the ‘man’s viewpoint’ or ‘woman’s viewpoint.’ All round a civil friendship, post-breakup. I’d also met Cleo’s parents, and she’d met mine. At some point my parents gave me a new set of luggage, and Cleo somehow ended up with one suitcase from that set in her possession.
Finally, I meet a fantastic gal, let’s call her ‘Metsu,’ and she stays the night. The following morning Metsu invites me back to her place to have dinner with her family. For me, this is a bit hasty, so I decline graciously but tell her (honestly) I’m interested in seeing her again. Metsu says it’s okay and she’d like that, and she gets dressed and leaves.
Cleo calls up. I tell her about Metsu. Cleo says she’s happy for me because it’s been a long time since we broke up and she was worried I wasn’t getting any. Then she says asks if I want to have dinner with her.
I’m thinking I already turned down Metsu’s offer, so I wouldn’t feel too honest if I took up Cleo’s offer. So I tell Cleo I’m not interested.
Cleo’s composure starts to crack, and it’s clear that jealousy is starting to get the better of her. She says her current boyfriend is out of town, and she doesn’t want to spend the weekend alone, and asks me if I want to hang out with her. I tell her this is really weird now and I say no.
Cleo starts to get vindictive. She starts to say that she wanted to be friends with me, but if I can’t find it in my heart to have dinner and hang out with her while her boyfriend’s away, then forget it – our friendship is over. She also says by the way, she has that suitcase my parents gave me, and if I don’t have dinner with her, then she won’t return it.
At this point I lay it out for her:
She thought about it and kinda seemed stuck for an answer. She just said ‘Okay, to be continued’ and hung up.”
“You Always Get Paid In The End”
“My last boyfriend and I had a big age difference. I was 17 when we started dating and he was 25. We broke up when I was 18 and he was 26 (we were together for a little under a year and a half).
My parents always thought he was crazy and, frankly, a pervert for dating someone so young. Looking back, I realized he was a total psycho but, of course, at the time I had no idea (or, more correctly, was just totally ignorant of that fact).
When we broke up, the first thing he did was throw a stuffed animal, a pair of my underwear, and a $5 bill all wrapped up together at my front door with a note that said, ‘You always get paid in the end, don’t you?’
Then, that was that. About a month later around my birthday, we talked for some reason. He went on babbling about how he dedicated the song ’19’ by T&S for me on a radio station. He then asked what my address was so he can send me flowers. After I said no and was majorly freaked out about this stuff, he asked me to meet him at an Olive Garden parking lot to ‘say our final goodbyes.’
Needless to say, I didn’t go.
After that, he proceeded to message every single person I’ve kissed, made love with, or was even just friends with (he somehow found a guy friend who I had no attraction to). He then told them multiple lies about how I had STDs, I’d open my legs for anyone, etc.
He would first attack them and call them scumbags. Then, he’d do a complete 180 and decide to try and be their friend, and get them to side with him and that’s where all the lies came in. I still have some of the messages he sent to a kid I liked at the time. I was cringing just reading them embarrassed about how I dated someone like that.”
“There Was A Package Addressed To Her”
“We moved in together for five months before I found out she’d been having a month-long affair with someone who was twice our age. The guy was also in a relationship. I was going to marry this girl – which now I see wouldn’t have been good, but still. Her family loved me and the whole thing was really bad, but luckily fairly simple. I, at the time, didn’t feel it was my place to tell her folks why we were breaking up. However, I trusted her to do so. I don’t think she did because I found out a month later she was still seeing the guy who, by the way, works for her mother.
She and I had always complained about getting mail addressed to the previous tenant of our apartment (once we even had to send back a package). Well two months into our breakup, I checked my mail and lo and behold, there was a package addressed to her. It kinda ruined my day to see her name, but what’s worse is I looked up where it came from. I didn’t open it, but the feel of it (it was in a bubble-mailer envelope) tells me it was not only lingerie from this place but also might’ve had a long, smooth adult toy.
Instead of mailing it back or calling her (I didn’t know her current address) or anything like that, I drove over to her parents’ house.
I wrote on the package, ‘It should, at this point, be obvious, but it seems I need to make it clear: please ask [ex’s name] to be more careful while filling out the shipping address online as it is not my job to deliver her mail. I also shouldn’t have to handle a package that contains lingerie or anything else that she bought for her polyamorous, 45-year-old lover who broke us up. Sincerely, [My name].’
If she hadn’t told them the reason, or, as I suspect, told them that I was the cheater, they at least now have the seeds of doubt planted and may one day know the truth. Either way, I finally got to say my piece and in a way that was enough to accomplish what I needed but not enough to get her mad enough to try to confront me about it.
After that, I went to IHOP for free pancakes day. I felt I’d earned them.”
“He Told Me He Loved Being With Me”
“I dated a guy for a short while. The relationship started as a fling but I developed strong feelings for him. A few weeks into it, I told him up front how I felt, and if he wasn’t down with it, then we needed to end things. I would have preferred just be friends before it got any deeper. He said he was okay with it. so we continued sleeping together and got into more of a relationship (without a title).
He spent the night with me one night and after a pretty amazing love making session, he held me for hours and we just talked until the sun came up (very mushy, I know). During this conversation, he told me he was completely over his ex, wanted nothing to do with the cheating brat. He told me loved being with me because I was such a low-key, anti-drama, chill girl he’d needed.
Two days later his best friend calls me up and tells me he had a little sleepover with his ex the night after he was with me. So I went to his house, cut up his sheets and poured 3 gallons of bleach and a gallon of liquid detergent (very slimy) all over his brand new memory foam mattress. I then wrote in Sharpie on the wall: ‘Wash your sheets between girls!'”