I've thought about it before, but it's almost painfully apparent now to me that I am one of those people... maybe you have seen/met the type. They tend to, upon meeting a new person, become very interesting and the person they meet becomes sort of enamored with them. Maybe "enamored" is a strong word, but it will do the trick for now. What I mean is that this person is almost instantly intriguing, almost addictive. People want to be around them, want to hear what they have to say, find amusement in every little joke or witty comment, and generally enjoy this person, a lot. Like, a lot.

You may be thinking either that I am really full of myself (I'm really not) or "what is this girl complaining about, then?" but I'm not done yet. The thing is, I seem to have this effect on people and then some time later (it's unclear to me how long it takes, but it seems to be between 6-12 months) the person who was previously thrilled to be in my presence is kind of, well, "over it". It doesn't bother me, I mean I understand that, especially in a relationship, the Honeymoon Phase, and anything related, fades over time. That doesn't bother me, I understand that after a certain amount of time, people lose their "glimmer" a little bit... Hence why there are so many entries on Datingish and other websites about how to keep the romance alive, how to spice up a relationship, etc. I don't have problems doing those things, either. The thing is, with me, it seems so drastic. I can't even count on two hands how many men (and boys) in my life have become addicted to me and my personality, and then over time, lost interest so drastically and seriously that no amount of repair or adjustment can fix it.

The easier memories of this are the guys who, over time, stop trying to impress me. That's fine. I don't need a show-off, and I definitely don't need constant reminders of how much I am loved. I am lucky to have enough confidence and stability that all I need is an occasional nice gesture or hug and I am good to go. These are the guys that may stop trying, in small ways. Like they don't remember to call me, they may stop going to events with me that I invite them to with friends, they possibly become more lazy and less appreciative of the things I do. All these things, while not exactly acceptable, are for the most part fix-able.

Then there are the harsher ones. Guys stop being decent all together. Like the ex of mine who, after getting very drunk one night and causing a huge scene, decided "it's okay to become an open alcoholic again because this girl has already seen that side at least one time" - from there on out, it was a blur of drunken slurring arguments on his part, me dragging him out of bars and other peoples' houses because he couldn't walk, screaming matches on the front lawn at 3am, and the list goes on... Even that was easier to explain. Okay, he was an alcoholic. It had very little, if nothing, to do with me.

And now I have cycled back to the kind where it's personal. It seems my relationship is moving into a place where I am no longer interesting at all, even though I haven't changed at all. I rarely change. I am always talkative with boyfriends, I share my whole life with them, including the simple stuff that doesn't always get expressed. I am always caring, I try to do as much as I can to show love and appreciation and I don't mind doing it, it brings me joy. I am always trying to include the dude in everything I do, because I jump whole-heartedly into serious relationships and I think that's how it should be. However, now, it seems I am going unnoticed... or... maybe not unnoticed. He knows I am here and what I am saying. But it seems to be floating somewhere outside his head and heart, not ever fully permeating any part of him that it used to. My jokes are no longer amusing, my witty banter is either ignored or returned with looks and words of either disgust, or exhaustion. My acts of love aren't noticed or cared for. And every effort I make seems to be pointless or non-existent.

I don't know why this happens. I don't have that spark anymore after a while. People get bored with it? People realize it isn't interesting after several months? Whatever the reason, it is hard to deal with. I am very honest with who I am and I don't change who I am unless it's for the better, and sorry, I don't think talking to a boyfriend less is going to improve me, or him, or anything.

Yeah, I talk a lot, but it's because I want to include you. Yeah, I expect something in return, but all I'm asking for is a few words and maybe a laugh here or there, even if it's fake sometimes - effort is better than nothing at all. Yeah, I might be just a little too much on some days, but is it really that hard to like me after 6 months? After all, if you made the commitment to be with me, it's kind of your responsibility to keep up your side of the deal. And if you said you liked me as a whole, well, you got it. What are you going to do with it now, 12 months later, when we know everything about each other and we live with each other?

I feel sometimes like all of this is a waste and I should stop giving so many pieces of myself out to people that just trash them after a certain point. But then what would I do? What's the purpose of having a fun existence and silly stories if you have no one to share it with?

Have you ever been really interested in someone, only to find that several months later you really don't care either way? Or, have you ever been the person this boredom sneaks in on, after being a very like-able and interesting individual?

Sorry it's been so long. I have been tossing around an idea in my head and thought I would get it out here and see what kind of form it takes. I get the feeling it will be very mixed and all over the place, so bear with me.

I've been thinking about the past a lot, although not in my usual negative-mopey way. There have just been certain things to remind me of it. For example, my birthday just passed last Sunday and I was trying to remember every birthday before it and what I did that day. Turns out, I can only really remember two birthdays back, and both of those past birthdays, I was with two different boyfriends, also different than the one I spent THIS birthday with. In an attempt to prevent myself from going down the "Gosh I feel like a slut" route, because I have been there before, I tried to settle for understanding that I was just trying to find the right guy and also I just tried to focus on those actual days and what I did, how I felt, etc.

My 23rd birthday, last year, I spent with my then-boyfriend who was the No-Spine Monster I had talked about in a previous entry. The day was spent going to a birthday party for my friend's child, enjoying a dinner with all my closest friends, going to a Battle Of The Bands tournament, and then throwing a small house party at my place where I got trashed more than ever before (due to my Spineless Monster being an absolute horror that day and moping around, making me feel bad, generally ruining my birthday mood - Note: I do NOT believe that drinking to the point of blacking out is a good thing, and no it doesn't help, I was just being weak).

My 22nd birthday, the year before, was probably the best birthday I have had, clocking in only second best to this year's birthday, which was my favorite. But it was spent with my worst boyfriend ever, the raging alcoholic, lying, cheating boyfriend who I happened to practically worship. But it was a good day, it was before he had turned into the Monster he became. We spent the day walking around a local hippie shopping town, and I got my tattoo on my chest added to, we had a great dinner and had a lot of fun together. I don't even really remember the specifics, but I know it holds a fond feeling in my heart and so it was a good day.

This year, my current boyfriend trumped all the others before him by giving me an amazing day. We started it off with coffee, fancy ones, which I never buy because of the price. We went to dinner which was AMAZING, and then we went to check out a car I might be buying. I didn't have enough for the car, it was 800 dollars and I had about 400, but my great, nice boyfriend talked the guy down to 700 and then fronted me the extra 300 dollars. He said I would have to pay him back for 200 of it, but 100 of that was his gift to me (considering he bought me a new computer only for Christmas, this is soooo generous and nice of him) and so I have my first car now - my very first! Only 8 years later than everyone else I know, who got a license and car at the age of 16, but hey, it's a beautiful car and it is in great condition and it's my first, so I love it dearly. It is sitting in my garage as we speak and he has been working on it, giving it a complete tune-up so it will be safe for me. It's a 1963 Chrysler New Yorker and I adore it.

Now my point in all this is, I think about the past a lot. Almost everything reminds me of something else and I often (against my own will) end up comparing lots of current events in my life to events from my past. I realized during this most recent examination, that I have a lot of fond feelings to my 22nd year with that horrible boyfriend, even though it is (believe me) flush with moments I would pay to forget/have erased from my memory at times... awful experiences, of dragging a boyfriend who is obviously far beyond the legal alcohol limit out of clubs, bars, lounges, other peoples' houses... carrying him to his bed and removing his shoes. Screaming at him for being awful, while he is swaying and slurring and eyes rolling around in his head. Finding out through various social networking sites that while I am trying to take care of an obviously beyond-help alocholic, he had been cheating on me with several different people. Staying up late at night wondering if he's coming home, why he isn't answering the phone, is he dead?, is he hurt?, is he having sex with a random girl he found on Craigslist today? etc etc.... see what I mean? Bad experiences. However, even though he was fake, he showed me so many good days in the beginning of our relationship and I still hold them fondly in my heart. I don't know why, I don't know if I should try to  get rid of those memories, I just don't know.

Long story short, is it okay to hold memories of the past like that, and think of them happily, even when you don't miss the person they include? Or is it damaging? I have yet to think that he has ever been better than my current boyfriend, there is no contest. My boyfriend now is someone who wants to make my life better, while that old guy was someone who wanted to tear my life apart. I know this, always have. But I still enjoy sometimes reminiscing about those good memories. Is this okay? Is it weird?

It comes back sometimes in hard ways, for example his sister-in-law was one of my best friends. She helped me through everything with him, she is such a sweet girl, amazing and smart and caring. She moved to Europe for school and I haven't seen her since before that boy and I broke up, but we have kept in touch through internet. She's back at home now and has been asking me to visit. But I worry that it will shoot me back into the past and I will be troubled, confused, and maybe hurt all over again. As much as I hate it, this great friend of mine is closely tied to memories of dating a horrible boy who broke my heart so bad. And she will always remind me of that, no matter how much I hate it or how much time has passed. Thus I have avoided seeing her, especially since she is staying at the house I lived in with him (even though he has long moved out) and so I fear visiting her would just be damaging somehow. Am I correct in this thinking, or putting too much into it? Maybe holding onto those old memories has something to do with this problem. Maybe if I didn't hold onto the past, I would be able to step back into it in a way, without being completely crippled by what happened before. I just fear that if I go to see her, it will almost literally be like me stepping into the past and I don't think I would be able to handle the way it feels, to see the house where we lived, see the people we lived with, they all remind me of him and I try to keep my life free of anything related to him, except for the small memories that are safely ONLY in my head, and not in front of my face.

But that brings up another question, why am I okay with reliving the memories in my head, but when it comes to putting it in front of my face in a physical form, I freak out?

I'm sure it's all for the best that I don't step into the past at all, which is what I am trying to do, but you know, we're all people who make mistakes and struggle sometimes, so that's what's happening now. Everyone has a weakness, and mine happens to be the past and what it entails.

I am spending my evening at home with my dogs watching Ghost Adventures, Strange Sex, and other various television shows. My boyfriend has to work tonight (like he does most holidays, haha!) but it's fine, we had a nice three days together and will have four more next week when he is off work :) I hope you all have a fun and safe new year's celebration, no matter what you do!

This is the final chapter in my "Monsters Exposé", I have saved the worst, at least in my experience, for last. I can't explain this monster other than in my own specific terms and circumstances, so I won't say "he may do this" and "he may act like that", I will tell you what happened to me, in exactly the way it happened, and it's bound to be long-winded because, well, it was a huge disaster.

We met through the internet. He reminded me of Kevin Federline, which threw me off, because he was like a beautiful version of him. However, I believed to my dismay, out of my league. We decided after a few days to meet in person, in a local town filled with hippie arts and crafts and many bars and restaurants. I got off the subway and looked around, seeing no one in urban clothes who resembled my vision of K-Fed. I reached into my bag to grab a cigarette, thinking maybe he was late and I would kill time. When I looked up, cigarette dangling from lips, I saw a man leaning against a brick wall smiling at me. He had a crooked smile, saggy beanie, rolled up jeans. Entirely different from my vision, but I knew by the look on his face that I was his, right from the start. We began to walk around and chat. We had so much in common. We loved bikes, we loved the same kind of movies, music, almost everything. But he was interesting, and different from me in so many ways. We went to a bar and shared some beers and stories and I knew from the beginning I was far too much in love for my own safety. Right before I stepped on the train home, after he stood waiting with me in the underground tunnel, we hugged, and he kissed me on the forehead. I swooned all the way home, wondering if he was real, and got home to see that his social networking page had the status update of: "can't wait til Thursday..." which was the next day we had set to see each other. Thus begins the twisted journey into the perfect man.

From here on out, he only got better. He made my coffee perfectly, we had the most amazing first kiss, we had lazy times together that were so fun, he made me muffins with my favorite fruit in them (he was a chef and would frequently bring me food from work), and the first time I spent the night, he didn't try anything. That is a huge mark of respect in my book, to not try a damn thing the first night - only made better by the morning interaction, which included him waking up early to go to work, and kissing me on the forehead saying, "Go back to bed, cutie." And throughout the months, he added so many petnames to his repertoire. Probably disgusting to the outside world, but they progressively got cuter and so genuine. "My little cherry pie", "my little sleepy bear", "my little cuddle monkey" etc etc... from here on out, we were perfect in the exact definition of the word. He was amazing to me, I loved him intensely, we spent as much time together as possible, he was great, amazing, beyond expectations. He even got me small surprises like a ring and necklace with roses (he knew I hated real flowers, but he went with me when I got rose tattoos and so roses were kind of like, "our thing") and handmade cards he bought at a local artsy store. He hinted at marrying me several times, he kissed me with such passion I was breathless, and I could think or talk of nothing but him, all day, every day, to everyone.

The day things went south, we had spent too much time at our local bar where we spent a lot of our dates. I knew he liked to drink; he used to work at a brewery after all. I was newly 22 years old and was never into drinking until I met him, coz he knew a lot about it and it just kind of happened - however I had no idea about what an alcoholic would look like from the outside. I thought, for a 24 year old man, it was completely normal to need a beer or two after work at a busy restaurant, and sometimes maybe even a mixed drink... no big deal, I thought, this is what adults do. After this night at the bar, we went to his house, where I frequently spent the night. He lived with three roommates: his big brother, his brother's fiancee, and a friend. We were in his room, drinking another beer we had bought on the way home at the liquor store. I wasn't drunk, and I didn't know how to tell if he was, but I thought he was fine. He got up to go to the bathroom, and I thought it was strange because someone was in the shower and he was gone for a long, long time, twenty minutes or so. I figured he was waiting for the bathroom to open up, but why not in the bedroom? Either way, he came back in, laid down, and eventually we fell asleep. Only a few minutes later, his older brother busted through the door screaming and throwing large objects at my man's head. I didn't understand why, until he expressed that my man, in his intense need to urinate, had walked outside into the backyard, unzipped, and released all his ingested alcohol all over the back step - which happened to lead right into the brother's room, and right next to the doggy door... leading the small dog they had to walk outside, and walk back in, tracking the Jim Beam scented urine all over their bedroom. His brother also expressed the desire to "call the cops again" and threatened to send him to rehab for his "problem". I thought he was entirely overreacting but after they spoke in private, my man came back only to tell me he was going to rehab the very next day. I was heartbroken.

He never did go, of course, and things went only more south from here. We were still madly in love, but the drinking, having been unsheathed and out in the open now, was in full-blown, completely obvious, in-your-face, disastrous mode. I guess he figured since "the secret was out", it was okay to be himself. He was still very loving, for a while, but the drinking got worse and worse. From here, I had to break up fights between him and much larger men at bars, cry on the sidewalk outside of bars, deal with him breaking our plans at random when I had already spent the money to come see him, and defend him to his family and convince even his own mother that he was "going to get help" and she would thank me, for "taking care of him." Eventually after so many fights, and the slow decline of stability and control, the breaking point was Halloween. I had planned the most amazing costume for myself: a perfect rendition of Amy Winehouse (ironic considering who I was dating, the alcoholic) and he was someone from The Warriors. We were invited to a "grown up party" as I called it - his brother's older friends were throwing it at their house. My boy was the bartender (smart, right?) and they were paying him for it. The night started off fine. I was mingling, fetching ice for him occasionally, he was working the bar. At one point I went to say hello and he was drunk, although only a few minutes ago he was fine - that was the thing about him, he could go from sober to hammered in two seconds, magically. He had to go to the bathroom. He left me in charge and I made too-strong drinks for strangers with accents. He came back without a shirt on, and it was wrapped around his waist for some reason. His brother confronted him, told him to wait in the living room til we were all done because he was too drunk, and had started to make a scene. A physical fight ensued. I tried to pry them apart and finally managed. I had to close out the night at the bar, and the hostess tipped me twenty dollars and said she was sorry for the situation I was in. This was the first time I realized that everyone saw him for what he was, but he was such a sweet talker that they just kind of accepted it and were very hush-hush about the whole thing. On the walk to the car, him, still shirtless, he began to run in the opposite direction. I still have no clue why. He was running down the middle of the street in San Francisco at 2 in the morning, shirtless. It would have been comical if not so retarded. I chased him three blocks and gave up, let him go. I had ripped the shirt off his waist in my haste of trying to catch him. I dropped it at my feet, fell to the ground with my head in my hands and cried. This was the lowest part of my life. He eventually came back, his brother wrangled him into the car, and we went home - he was chattery and cheery on the ride home, for some reason. At home, I wanted to stand in the front yard and get some air, and he came out and started antagonizing me, and my breaking point occurred. I punched him so many times in the face, my hands were sore for a week. I screamed at him, "Why do you do this to me? Why are you always like this? You embarrass me, you're a child, why don't you treat me the way I deserve?" he was on the ground and I went inside and went to bed.

After this, more downhill. Eventually he broke up with me, put us on "a break" and the next month that followed was hell. Even though he was an awful man now, I missed him so much, and I still loved him more than anything, I was holding onto the old version of him, I thought he could come back. I was miserable, he was off doing his own thing. We lived together at this point, and even though I moved there for his family who had asked me, I wished I had never done it. He wouldn't even speak to me anymore. I got self-destructive, I slept around, I drank a lot as well, I didn't care anymore. I spent time with his sister-in-law, who understood my pain and frequently had to get in fistfights with him in her day, as well. She would feed me vodka and orange juice from disposable coffee cups at 11 in the morning and we would complain about men while walking around the city, shopping with her Papillon. She always asked if I missed him, and I told her yes. She eventually played Cupid and got us to admit to each other, that we both missed each other and wanted to try again. And from then, we were perfect again. Like the old version. We even went to bars and he would control himself, not get drunk, it was nice. I felt like our rough patch was over.

Then one day when I was visiting my best friend, he called and he was very, very drunk. We were supposed to meet up shortly to make dinner together, and he canceled, said he would be home at 2 in the morning rather than the 7pm we agreed on. And then I said, "well when should I come home?" and he said not to worry about it. I asked what he meant and he said, "I don't want to be with you anymore". I cried and cried on my best friend's couch, while she and her two year old son comforted me. I moved out and never went back. I never understood what happened, well until a day later when I found out he was already dating another girl. It was then I found out also that he had been cheating on me from the very start. Awful, it was all a lie.

I was a wreck for months. Depressed. I drank a lot, too, why not? I felt like I could never love again, seeing as someone so perfect could rip my heart out so painfully (and mind you, I have left out dozens and dozens of details to keep this story under a billion paragraphs...). It was hopeless.

... Of course, I got over him eventually, I'm here, right? I will discuss how and why on a later day, to begin my fresh new subjects of recovery and REAL love. But, there you are. The worst of the Monsters, the one who appears saintly and turns into a devil right before your very eyes. Please, beware...

Can also be known as: The Flake.

This kind of person can be like this with more than their significant other, they are probably like this with everyone they know, including family, friends, and possibly even their co-workers/boss. This one is quite simple to explain, but hard to resolve issues with nonetheless. They constantly make promises, ever swear sometimes, to do certain things, be dependable for a certain event, promise a time to call/show up/etc and yet never seem to be able to do so. Pretty simple, right? Sounds so simple you'd almost be able to think that it'd be easy to break them of the habit by telling them, "look, just don't promise anything you're not sure of, and then you won't let me down constantly." but it's never that easy for them. They are obsessed with appearing to be the "good guy/girl" and this is why they make all these promises. They may not even be big huge commitments, but most of the time even as simple as, "yes, I will go with you to the mall/library/your house/your parents' house/etc." and still not be able to pull it off.

In my case, the Never-Ending-Promises Monster did this on the daily. We were dating, and at first I thought it was cute how he was obsessed with video games, making his own music, and drawing. I thought: "Wow! He is so artistic and creative, it seems there is nothing he can't accomplish." until I realized that really, he was just lazy and didn't like to do anything OTHER than those things. Oh, and drink and smoke pot all day. And pop Vicodin.

We had known each other for years before we started dating, and kind of had a fling that pretty much only consisted of sex, sharing music, watching movies, and texting. Then when we finally started dating years later, I was so excited. I kept thinking of him as this huge, god-like being, because he was so cool to me. He did tattoos, including a lot of mine throughout the years, not to mention had all these other creative abilities I had never even attempted. And he seemed to always be into the most obscure, interesting things that I had never heard of; I felt like I could learn a lot from him. And I did, but pretty much only that I never want to date another pot-smoker and that artists were kind of pretentious and full of themselves.

A few months after we started up, he started not keeping his promises. And they weren't complex ones. They were things like, helping me pick out presents for birthdays, going to dinner with me (even in times when I would pay), and finishing my one truly original, brilliant tattoo that I was so excited to have done. It was lyrics from my favorite band ever, written in the handwriting of the very singer of said band, and I wanted HIM to do it, because he was my boyfriend and I loved him and his art. This was the starting point. Several months after I had gotten the handwriting and drawn up the stencil, he was still putting it off. I even offered to pay him, still put it off. Excuses like, "I am too drunk today, too high today, I don't feel good today, I don't have the time today..." and would continue to drink, smoke, or play video games all through that day. Not to say my needs were more important than his free time, just sayin'... don't promise me things you can't follow through on. I would rather not have a set plan, than have a set plan and have it ruined time after time.

Eventually his drinking, smoking, and pill-popping got out of hand. His drug dealer even stated that he did too much and he didn't want to sell to him anymore. He became obsessed and even more addicted. In addition, he became increasingly cruel to his friends, family, and other random acquaintances. Which was never his quality... he used to always be friendly and caring and it disgusted me that he became like this. I was going through my annual "clean-up" act of regaining my faith, making amends will all enemies, and generally spreading as much happiness as I could, and seeing him on the other side of the bed talking shit to his own grandmother was just ruining him for me. I couldn't understand how he could be so mean, and I couldn't see how we could work like this. The breaking point was when his best friend's baby was born, and he was at the hospital. He texted me to tell me and I said to send my congratulations. He mentioned that both he and the father of the child were extremely stoned out of their minds. I was COMPLETELY disgusted. To be at your child's birth and to be so high, you barely know what's happening? One of the most important moments in this guy's life and he is missing it, just so he can sit there, glassy-eyed, saying, "man, what did you just say? I'm too high to listen."

A day or two after that I asked if he was ever going to quit smoking pot. He said, "Maybe someday... maybe not... probably not." and I asked, what if we get more serious and decide to get married? Are you going to be high at the wedding? And he replied, "Maybe," and that was the end of that. I couldn't comprehend floating through life totally unaware of how important things were and how I would feel KNOWING he just wasn't "there" for our important milestones. Shortly after this, I told him I couldn't be with him, because he was too addicted, too cruel, and we just weren't compatible anymore it seemed. He didn't understand and made the stupid reasoning, "you should have just lied and said you cheated or something, to make it easier on me." and kept insisting that the whole world wants to be lied to, and no one likes the truth, and no, he didn't appreciate my honesty. I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. What kind of person would prefer being told they were cheated on, rather than the simple reasoning of "we don't get along"?

This spurred a huge fight between us that lasted for a week or more, and then we stopped talking for years. I recently got back in contact with him just to say hello, because I knew his life had only gone downhill like I predicted. Now he is in prison for stealing his mother and his grandmother's credit cards and for getting caught with many different drugs on him. I am glad I got out before it was too late for me.

I wonder what kind of promises he's making now?

Not to say that all promise-breakers are going to end up this badly. But if you are getting your promises broken and you feel increasingly worse because of it... I can only suggest not to stick around long. It will likely not get any better at all, sadly. Habits are hard to break if you don't have the dedication...