We begin our tale in rural France, where an emailer is vacationing with his girlfriend. They’ve been traveling for a few months, living their lives, when homeboy comes home to things being a little…off.
The first thing she tells me is a rather suspect story of a man trying to “kidnap’ her when she apparently attempted to walk the two mile journey to the local store to buy cigarettes. I didn’t buy it [because of] the changing details and fact that she hadn’t told me anything about this all day while I’ve been gone. I play along anyway.
Normally, I’d say playing into your girlfriend’s dramatizations of her daily life is a good boyfriend move, but I think it only counts when she’s exaggerating how psychotic her mother is, or telling you what a bitch her standards chair is, when she clearly deserved to get in trouble for vomiting on the bartender. The couple continued some banter, until the guy motioned to go upstairs.
Apparently this is where I went wrong. I was countered with a quick “well then I guess I’m following you because I can’t let you go anywhere on your own,” she said while blinking 137 times.
“Excuse me?” is about all I could muster from my surprise.
“I can’t trust you. Plain and simple. Trust and believe.” was her response. This was a phrase I would hear at least 40 times throughout the rest of the evening.
So homegirl allegedly fakes a kidnapping, and then gets mad when her boyfriend doesn’t buy it? On the one hand, I hate it when my boyfriend doesn’t go gaga over my fake kidnappings, on the other…what the fuck? What is happening?
The short explanation of why she was upset: She got into my (password protected) laptop after her “kidnapping” incident to watch a movie and looked up my web history while I was gone and found that there was porn on it.
Red flag. Everyone knows you don’t let a guy know you were snooping unless you find something, and porn doesn’t count as something. I mean, uhh, you shouldn’t snoop on your boyfriend! She starts unloading on him, with “nasty insults,” and “hateful aggressions.” She even went to the place you NEVER go with a guy, unless you’ve decided you don’t want to see him again. Dick insults. This is the equivalent to a dude grabbing a fat roll. Maybe worse. It got so abusive and relentless that he ended things on the spot. “Fine. We’re done. You’re single now. You happy?” But she wasn’t. So she punched him in the mouth. Not wanting to get physical with a woman, the guy tried to walk away.
I began to walk away right past her into the long hallway so I could isolate myself and got my second punch to the back of my head. For the next thirty minutes I was followed by a demon in the flesh throwing insults and threats straight from the cast of The Jerry Springer Show and Cops. Every room I tried to go into she blocked. Every time I told her to leave me alone she refused. Every door I opened she slammed shut in front of me. She almost breaks the paneling off of a door that I actually get locked so I have to open it as this isn’t our house and she’s causing serious collateral damage. She keeps going on and on about how nasty I am and telling me that she was never going to leave my side until we got back to America, “trust and believe.” … She hits me for the third and fourth time.
Dude, for porn? All this for PORN. Sometimes people masturbate!
Then the really scary part happens. I threaten to call the cops, to which she replies “do it, you’ll be the one who goes to jail. you don’t think i’ll lie and tell them you hit me? I’m the woman. You can’t do anything.” Fuck.
RT. Fuck.
Out of options and her refusing to leave me alone, I call my family on whatsapp hoping it will make her walk away out of fear of embarrassment. The call cuts out as she’s unplugged the wifi. Remember, we are rural so there is no cell signal. I’m literally trapped. I run out of the door and jump the fence. Walking up the road in my slippers, I finally get a cell signal. When I get my family on the phone to alert them of my situation I get two texts from satan. “come talk to me instead of beating me” and “my eye is swollen from you beating me.” Holy shit. I am beyond fucked. I’ve never felt the helpless feeling of being an innocent man with no options all while being falsely accused of domestic battery when I was the one being assaulted. After two hours of going over options with my parents and trying to communicate with neighbors as to why I’m walking outside their house at 2AM in my slippers, I decide the best option for me is the go back and fake it until I make it. Hopefully she’s asleep.
You don’t go Gone Girl on your boyfriend and then just settle down for a tiger snooze. This guy’s in worse danger than he thinks. Clearly.
I climb in through a window in the garage as she’s locked all the doors, and I don’t get past the living room before being spotted with a “what the fuck are you doing?” I remain calm and take it knowing I have no choice, and proceed to get verbally abused for the next hour while I just pray that she falls asleep. The biggest problem I face at this moment is that her face is FUCKED up. It’s bad. One of her eyes looks like someone cold cocked her with a left hook and the other looks like she took a solid jab from Ronda Rousey. How the fuck did that happen? I’m beyond petrified. The simple version of the rest is that she didn’t let up and we finally went upstairs and she falls asleep. Right now you might be saying, “you should’ve called the police.” Yeah, sure. Let an American male call the French police and possibly get thrown in a French prison when she lies and says I hit her. A situation that has landed countless innocent men in jail around America for years. I knew she would snap back to reality once she fell asleep.
Obviously, when she woke up she realized what had happened. All day long she’s been crying and pleading for forgiveness. Putty in my hands. Begging for me and my family not to hate her. Her face still looks awful. She says she doesn’t know how it happened. I don’t believe her. I assume she knocked herself around in case I called the cops down the road. This is some lunatic shit.
Lunatic shit indeed. This, coming from a self-proclaimed crazy girl.
My question is obviously what the fuck do I do??? My parents say she isn’t allowed in their home now for obvious reasons. She said some super fucked up shit that no matter how drunk she was is something you just don’t forget, and she put her hands on me for no reason other than I watched some blond lesbians go at it a couple times recently. This situation is so fucked up. We’re supposed to go to Barcelona next week before returning to our hometown in America for a few days. Then we booked $700 tickets to spend a month in Panama in June. Just leaving her ass isn’t exactly easy. Help me with your thoughts.
Oh, and our one year anniversary is on Thursday…
Well first and foremost, happy anniversary. It sounds like you two have a lot to celebrate. Second of all, get the fuck out. I don’t suppose to be able to advise you on this, thoroughly. Crimes in other countries make things weird. But I’m going to go ahead and say you should cancel your trip to Panama and consider getting a restraining order when you get back to the States. Your girlfriend desperately needs some counseling, and I don’t think it’s wrong if you tell her so.
Get home safe. I’d recommend you guys not drink before you return..
Image via Shutterstock
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Veronica Ruckh
Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at veronica@grandex.co
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